So I was on the lam. We just knocked over the First street bank and the coppers were hard on our tails. We were holed up in deserted brownstone off of Oak. The plan was to lay low while the heat cooled off, then we’d divvy up the take. A bank job would usually score us enough jack to keep us in dames and booze for a month.
But this time it wasn’t the dames on my mind, it was the law. We could hear them right outside the door. A there was a team of them. The shuffling of their boots…
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