“I’m telling you, one more run, that’s it. Just one more score, and we’re on easy street.” Pell leaned back against the fence, grinning. “And this last one was a sweet one, wasn’t it? In, out, smooth as butter, no hitches at all.”

“Why is it,” Kell mused, “that every time you say something’s going to be smooth, I start to worry?”

“Well, that, my friend, is because you have no faith in me at all. Now, look, I’ve got all the info already. My source set me up good. You, me, Fell, the three of us in and out and kabang, we never have to see each other again, we never have to see nobody we don’t wanna see again.”

“This source.” Kell made the word sound sour and dirty, “that’s the question. They get, what, a quarter of our take?”

“Yeah, uh, something like that.” Pell shifted from foot to foot.

“And they give you the locations. But you’ve never seen them. You just dead-drop the money and get the information the same way?”

“Yeah? And?”

“And you never thought that was the least bit hinkey?”

“Why should I? I mean, Fell set us up. Fell’d worked with them before, and I know Fell from that Southwest job, you remember. Hellion set that one up.”

“And Hellion is such a good judge of character, too, aren’t they?” Kell’s headshake was more sad than upset. “Seriously, Pell, something’s just a little off about this.”

“Come on, Kell,” Pell wheedled. “Think about the money. Think about Easy Street. Not having to do anything else like this ever again, if we don’t want. Not having to work if we don’t want.”

“If it sounds too good to be true…” Kell muttered.

“Well, it’s not like this job is going to be a simple one or anything. We’re going to have to work damn hard for this last score. But once we do…”

“Easy street.” Kell wasn’t that hard to convince. People that were didn’t usually end up in their line of work. “All right. Let’s go.”

The building was just as the plans had suggested; the target was just where they were supposed to be, the security as easy as hacking a baby monitor. Pell handled the extraction with customary finesse while Kell handled the getaway car.

“See?” Pell drove into the drop-off site. “Easy-peasy, easy street.”

“You know,” Kell agreed slowly, “you might actually be right for… what’s that smell?”

“You’ve done quite well in acquisitions,” the voice over the car radio purred, as the gas knocked them unconscious. “But now I want you in a more front-and-center position in my slave shops. As merchandise, I think.”

Written to this week’s Thimbleful Thursday Prompt: Easy Street, and part of my d/s ‘verse. Probably.

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