Here’s the deal: I am a direct descendant of the outlaw Joaquin Murrieta. He was a kick-ass horseman, gambler and marksman. He stole the best horses and robbed rich Anglos at gunpoint. He loved women and seduced more than a few during his twenty-three years. Some of his money he gave to the poor, but to be truthful most of it he spent on whiskey, guns, expensive tailored clothes and on the women and children he left behind.

I got Joaquin Murrieta’s good looks. I got his courage and sense of justice for the poor. I got his contempt for the rich and powerful. I got his love of seduction. Like Joaquin used to, I love a good, clean armed robbery. I steal beautiful cars instead of beautiful horses.

Right now I’m about to stick up a west-side dude for twenty-four thousand dollars in cash. He won’t be happy, but he’ll turn it over.

And I’ll be richer and more famous than I already am.

My name is Allison Murrieta.

Here’s how you get a mark to bring you that much in cash: you put an ad in the Auto Trader for a 2005 BMW 525, low mileage and mint condition, and you ask twenty-five thousand, which is three grand less than it’s worth. You get a lot of calls on that car. They know you should be asking twenty-eight, but you’re a woman and you don’t sound overly bright. You’ve got a soft voice. You talk up the Beemer’s options and upgrades. The creamy leather and all that, even though BMW leather isn’t creamy. You say you’re pretty sure it’s worth more but you’re willing to sell quick because there have been some disappointments lately and you really do need to get on with your life.

You can hear the excitement in the men’s voices. The women often say they understand the disappointment part. You set up a time and a location to meet and you forget about them.