Duke looks at me. His bright gray eyes like electric drill bits. They don't move, and he doesn't step closer.

But I still feel like his gaze is stabbing into me. Boring holes to see what's at my core, what I'm hiding.

I have to swallow my panic, telling myself with mantra-like determination that he doesn't know what I've done,

what I'm about to do.

I stand a good 12 feet away in the loft, but it feels like I'm standing right in front of

Duke, within arm's reach.

Finally, there's movement below his eyes.

His brown beard cracks open in a snagletooth smile, and his eyes

finally find another target as he capels, dumping the duffel bag full of cash and jewelry on the table.

The other guys take their cue from Duke, laughing it up, and releasing the tension that held

through the job and the ride back

here.

Simp and Teach already have beers in hand, and Rolf is pulling out a bag of cocaine

from his watch pocket, what he calls his Coke pocket.

The high windows in the loft show only darkness, but the lights inside give it a

kind of cozy feeling. For a long time, I felt safe in the loft, but not anymore. Things have

gone off the rails lately, and that's why I have to do what I'm about to do, even if it doesn't

really make sense. Well, that, and I'm about to do, even if it doesn't really make sense.

Well, that, and I'll go to prison for a very long time if I don't do it.

The four men are gathered around the table right now,

but I know they'll soon move off to other parts of the loft,

and I can't let that happen. The mysterious man's words echo in my head

...