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jobs in the first place. They’re convinced we’ve got some kind of natural robbing ability or trade secrets or something. Plus, Soldado’s personally vouched for each of us. Gabriel’s dad was good. But then he started hitting more banks, trying for bigger takes, and ended up on the FBI’s radar. Agents dogged him down and took him in. The lesson I get from this? The key to surviving in a city that held the title Bank Robbery Capital of the World for more than a decade is to keep a low profile. With bank robberies happening all the time, the police have to cherry-pick who to focus on: robbers who score big and robbers who hurt people. And God help you if you shoot at a cop or something. You will get caught. And you will do a stretch in jail. Like Gabriel’s dad. A long, long stretch. The gun charges alone will jack you up good. I know because I researched it.
    I’ll be a thief if I have to, but no way I’m going to be a stupid one. “We can’t do it. Come on, you guys gotta see it. Fifty million? We’ll have the LAPD
and
the FBI on our asses.”
    Benny nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s too big.”
    Eddie looks torn but ultimately nods. “You gotta tell Soldado we can’t.”
    A look of pure rage flashes across Gabriel’s face. “We’ve done six jobs so far. And what have we got to show for it? After the split, we’ve each cleared what? Two to six thousand apiece for each job? Max. This is a different deal. How can you not get that? Think of it as freedom money. You think the Eme’ll ever let us stop if we keep doin’ small-time jobs? But if we do one big one, they’ll agree we’re too hot. No more jobs. We can take care of our families and get on with our lives. Think about it.”
    I look over at Soldado and we lock eyes. He gives me another small nod. It can’t be this easy. One more job and we’re free? The Eme just lets us go? It’s all I want. To leave all this behind and get on with my life. But the thing is, whether I believe they will doesn’t change the bottom line: if the Eme wants us to do it, we don’t really have a choice.

I watch as the US Bank Tower comes into view, my face pressed to the car window even though the sun is shining right on me, heating me up and making me sweat. It’s been a little more than twenty-four hours since the jump, and instead of going to school, we’re headed back downtown, this time because my mother is dragging us to my father’s bank, LL National, to talk to the people there about our accounts. When she went online to get money for Dad’s bail, all of our funds were frozen.
    We pass the spot where I landed. I half smile, remembering. Crashing on top of that van was nothing short of epic. The two guys inside were thoroughly freaked out. I wish I could bottle the rush of happiness I felt. I could use it this morning.
    “There’s no way it’s all frozen. He can’t have left us with nothing,” Mom says, her voice on the edge of hysteria, her hands gripping the wheel so hard her knuckles are white.
    She looks wild this morning, not her usual polished self. Little pieces of hair stick out around her temples, and her hastily-scraped-together bun is already coming undone at the nape of her neck. She put on makeup but somehow forgot eyeliner. I don’t tell her, because she’s already so upset. She never even knew we were gone Saturday night. I waited for her to ask me about it, but she was too preoccupied with this errand. A perk of having your father arrested, I guess, is that you don’t get questioned about where you’ve been or why you were out so late.
    Quinn is sprawled in the backseat, snoring away; sleep is his way of avoiding uncomfortable situations. I envy him. I can’t shut down like that when things get weird. I get itchy and restless instead. If I could jump out of the car and run the rest of the way, I would.
    “He can’t have left us this way. He can’t. He can’t.” She half laughs and her fingers flex, strangling the steering