Page 76 of The Company We Keep

Even if you wreck me, even if you waste the youth I’ve got

Baby if the cops come calling

I’ll never talk

— —K. Flay (“The Cops,” 2013)

On the morningafter the Lefebvre job, the stretch of highway between the hotel and the penthouse managed to erase the fear and doubt that had blossomed in Dust’s chest.

Slip ups would be unavoidable. But he had Carrow’s trust — and that was what mattered.

The woman at the hotel only reminded him how urgent it was for Dust to get back on track. He had to make concrete steps towards what he’d begun to think of as his ultimate proposal: a new life for the two of them.

If they left The Company — left Las Abras and took onnew identities, it would soothe both of their deepest fears. Carrow could leave the rest of the members of The Company with enough money to retire far away from Las Abras — making sure, at last, that they were safe.

And Dust could leave behind the paranoia, the fear that Abe would rear its ugly head and take everything from him.

Maybe in a few years, they could become a family again. The Company itself could start over, once the smoke cleared, in a new city. Maybe even a new country.

The only piece missing — the thing he always hit like a brick wall — was how to explain to Carrow what he was escaping from.

They pulledinto the private parking bay. The tech van from the previous night’s heist was there, so obviously everything had gone off without a hitch in bringing the gold up to the 45th floor. One of the nicer sedans was missing — the red one Leta favored.

“I bet they went for brunch,” Carrow said, nodding at the empty parking space.

Dust smiled. He would’ve liked to join them. Days after heists were always good ones. The adrenaline wore off overnight, but the elation at a job well done was something that stretched for days afterwards.

Maybe Dust would volunteer to cook that night, he thought. He’d like an excuse to get everyone around the table and in a good mood.

“Emerson?”

Dust’s heart seemed to drop into his stomach when he heard Carrow say the name.

Carrow had entered the penthouse first, Dust pausing at the entryway to look at some damage to the door jamb that had probably happened while the rest of The Company was bringing up the bullion the night before.

But then Dust heard Carrow’s voice, and he couldn’t get inside fast enough.

The man was standing in their dining room.

Undercover AIIB Agent Neil Emerson did not belong there.

And yet there he was.

Carrow had already pulled his gun and aimed it at the man. Dust came to stand beside him and did the same. There was no sign of anyone else from The Company in the penthouse. Emerson looked unconcerned about the two guns pointed at him — and a smile slid across his face as Dust joined his boss.

Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Dust asked.

His heart was racing. There wasn’t a singlegoodreason why the undercover agent would show up unannounced at Carrow’s place.

“I came up with the gold,” Emerson said casually. “Your people were distracted enough getting the bars up that they didn’t notice someone slipping in behind them. I’ve been waiting for you two all morning.”

“So sorry to keep you waiting,” Carrow said through gritted teeth. “What can we help you with?”

Dust wondered if the penthouse had ever been infiltrated like this before — though from the stress in his boss’ voice he could guess that it had not.

“I have an offer for you concerning our mutual friend, Charlie Judge,” Emerson said. Dust’s blood ran cold. On anyother morning of any other goddamn day, he could’ve called Emerson a liar — at least bought himself some time to explain. But the name was still fresh in Carrow’s mind from that woman in the lobby he entered training with, so many years ago. Damn her memory.

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