Blake kept sneaking anxious glances at Lawson and Ray. The two guys had just been throwing down—if they started swinging again, it'd be a total shitshow.
But a few minutes later she watched in stunned silence as Lawson and Ray walked back over, arms slung around each other's shoulders like they'd been buddies for years.
The sight hit her almost as hard as seeing Lawson's ripped body that morning.
She was completely speechless.
"You guys…"
"Blake, Mr. Gaines and I had a real talk. He's decided to find the right moment to ask your mom out and clear the air. But he's gonna need your help pulling it off!"
Blake's eyes lit up. She had no idea how Lawson pulled that off, but if it meant getting her parents back together, she'd do anything.
"No problem!"
How'd he do it? Joker Trump Card, obviously.
That card cranked his persuasion to nightmare levels. Just like the Clown Prince himself, he could twist minds with nothing but words.
Lawson figured it was a solid test run for the new card, and the results were terrifyingly good.
Ray's opinion of him had flipped completely, though the overprotective dad still didn't want him anywhere near his daughter.
"Blake, I gotta go handle some things. Head back with Lawson for now, and don't stay out too long!"
The subtext was crystal clear: Don't go on a date with this guy. The old man was terrified his perfect little cabbage patch was about to get plowed by a wild boar.
"Dad! Like I'm in any mood to wander around right now anyway!"
Right then Lawson's phone buzzed.
He checked it—a text from the bearded guy he'd played poker with yesterday, setting up a meet.
Blake caught the shift in his face.
"Lawson, everything okay?"
"Just some small work thing. Nothing major. Come on, Blake, let's get you home."
"Okay! Bye, Dad! We're heading out!"
"Be careful! And don't stay out late!"
"I know!"
On the way back, Lawson casually pumped Blake for info about her dad.
He had a strong feeling Ray wasn't some regular dude. If he wasn't LAPD, he had to be federal.
"You're asking what my dad does? He's with Coast Guard Search and Rescue. He's barely ever home because of the job—that's why Mom got so pissed."
Coast Guard Search and Rescue?
Lawson didn't buy it for a second. Ray's takedown moves weren't rescue training—they were pure violent suppression. The guy came from an agency that cracked skulls for a living.
He was lying to his own family about his job? Black ops? CIA? NSA? Some other three-letter soup?
After dropping Blake off and politely turning down Mrs. Gaines' dinner invite, Lawson hit a used car lot. He dropped five grand on a Dodge Viper SRT-10.
It was an older 90s model, and for that price it definitely had a salvage title.
Lawson didn't give a shit.
The Viper looked decent and ran fine. He needed wheels right now, so he paid cash and took the keys.
In America, not having a car was basically a disability.
The bearded guy's address was way out in the northern LA suburbs, past the Hollywood Hills, practically at the county line.
Lawson finally pulled up to an old, rundown warehouse. He scoped the perimeter carefully before stepping inside.
"You made it. Little later than I expected. And why the hell are you dressed like an insurance salesman?"
The bearded guy—Phil—and the Rune Mage—Dennis—were sitting on the hood of a scrapped car. Captain Jack—Donnie—was leaning against the fender, hands in his pockets, still looking half-checked out.
"I don't keep my phone glued to my face 24/7. I miss texts. Besides, don't you guys appreciate a professional look?"
Phil nodded slowly. The excuse worked.
"I'm Phil. This is Dennis. He's Donnie. We're a crew. Right now I need to know if you've got what it takes to roll with us. What's your track record?"
"You guys catch the news about that high-speed chase in North LA last night? That was me driving."
Phil and Dennis exchanged surprised looks.
Donnie's eyes went wide, staring at Lawson. He couldn't believe the exact guy his handler was hunting had just walked straight into their lap.
"Whoa! For real?"
"Dead serious. LAPD's tearing the city apart looking for me right now. Why would I take that heat if it wasn't me?"
At that point Lawson's Underworld Reputation kicked in hard. Phil and Dennis bought it instantly.
Phil, the crew boss, stuck out his hand.
"Welcome aboard. We're about to make a lot of money together."
Lawson licked his lips and flashed a wicked grin.
"I love making money. So how are we getting rich?"
That smile was exactly what Phil and Dennis wanted to see. Only a real sociopath smiled like that.
"Alright. Crew's complete—let's talk the plan."
Phil nodded at Dennis, who pulled out a map of the LA suburbs and pointed to a spot.
"This is the target."
Lawson leaned in. Dennis was pointing at a Pacific Standard Bank branch out in the burbs.
"A bank? We're hitting a bank?"
Hearing the word "bank," Donnie snapped out of his daze and leaned in close.
"What, you scared?" Dennis challenged.
Lawson's face showed zero fear.
"Ha! Scared? Nah. I'm just wondering why you picked a suburban branch. They don't keep that much cash."
Phil looked satisfied with the reaction and explained.
"Because we got a solid tip. There's an underground jeweler stashing millions in uncut stones in one of their safe-deposit boxes. Security's standard, location's isolated. Won't find a better target."
Donnie nodded hard. If Phil was telling the truth, it was a damn good one.
"Interesting. So you guys got the whole thing mapped out?"
"Damn right. Your job is simple—drive. You get us out clean after the hit."
"Oh? Let me quiz you then. How many guards on duty? Where's the security room? What's the average foot traffic at the time we hit? How fast is police response once the alarm trips?"
Lawson's rapid-fire questions left Phil and Dennis staring at him, completely blank. Their "plan" was basically grab guns, grab a car, pick a day. They hadn't thought about any of that shit.
Seeing their faces, Lawson knew these guys were total amateurs. Zero professionalism.
Phil swallowed hard.
"Have you… done this kind of job before?"
"I've never robbed a bank. But being bad takes talent too, don't you think?"