“Could wait all night,” said McGrath, without taking his eyes off the Infiniti. “Could wait all night and then not have time to do anything if they light it up. And then you got, how many of these little fucks did you say there were, Spence?”

“Three, but two of them were only—”

“Three. So you got three little wannabe Gs running around, making the situation way more difficult to control.”

Silent, the Yo-Yo awaited instruction.

“A little closer. Let’s see what they’re doing.” The music was so loud that McGrath could talk normally without fear of betraying their presence.

Spencer felt his guts tighten. He hadn’t expected to meet these punks again.

“Dom, these guys—” he started, but McGrath cut him off with a raised hand.

More laughter rippled through the music. It surprised Spencer how young it sounded, like the laughter of a child.

By the time the Yo-Yo stopped, they were barely thirty yards away. The Infiniti’s front doors were open. One of the trio sat behind the wheel with his hood down and face exposed. Spencer guessed the kid bouncing in the seat probably wasn’t even old enough to drive. Beside him, Pistol Pete yelled down a phone while smoking a joint. The kid in the back leaned forward and passed a joint to his buddy behind the wheel. They were oblivious of being watched.

McGrath sat back in his seat. “Yo-Yo?”

The Yo-Yo’s head turned only slightly.

“Happy with this?”

The Yo-Yo looked back at the car. He gave a small nod.

“Johnny Boy?”

Johnny Boy looked around. “They picked a nice place.”

“Yeah, they did, didn’t they? Yo-Yo, go get my fucking money.”

Apparently the Yo-Yo didn’t need second tellings. He just got out. Instantly. When he reappeared through the windshield, he was holding a huge caliber, long-barreled pistol. Not having to worry about being quiet, he moved fast toward the Infiniti. He was only ten yards away when its back door suddenly opened. The Yo-Yo stopped, dropped to a half crouch, and raised his gun. Spencer stopped breathing.

But the kid in the back hadn’t seen anything. He leaped out and ran to the open front door. He looked even younger than his buddy, no more than twelve or thirteen. Spencer struggled with the fact that these, these children, had pulled knives on Milt and him. The kid crouched down by his friend. They put their G faces on and made two-finger gang signs as they selfied up.