One bad turn deserves another, yeah?

Tom's POV

Seven hundred thousand dollars.  

I sat at the dining table, toying the bacon, pushing it round my plate. My brain was in a damned overdrive. Like it had been in the past days. Seven hundred grand.  

I couldn't get over it. Dammit that was our money. And why would anyone break into a car that had tinted windows? How did they know that there was a bag of cash in the backseat?  

I couldn't remember how we got in, but I was fairly certain that the car door and lock was still intact. Unless they had a master key.  

Well that was possible.  

But the robbery still felt a bit off and it irked the shit out of me that Barlow thought I could have stolen it. The idea hadn't even dropped in mind. I was too buzzed from the alcohol that night to even try to steal shit.  

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