He rubbed his thumb against his knuckle as he looked at the register.

“The lift works fine for now,” Derek said bluntly.

He came back to the counter and opened the envelope.

He started laying crisp hundred-dollar bills on top of the bank statements.

Michael counted them as they landed on the paper.

“Derek, I can’t take the shop’s money.”

“I’m not asking your permission,” Derek said.

“We need a professional inside that house.”