Bonnie Blue Jmac -

J-Mac shot her a look— what are you doing? —but he trusted her. He always did.

“Lie,” she said, grinning. “But there’s a getaway car two blocks west. I always have a backup.”

Bonnie Blue knelt on the cold concrete, her red hair plastered to her skull, wrists tied behind her back with a zip tie that bit into her skin. Across the vast, echoey space, J-Mac was in the same position, his broad shoulders hunched, a thin line of blood tracing from his scalp down his temple. He caught her eye and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Don’t provoke them. bonnie blue jmac

A single gunshot. Then a pained yelp, followed by the clatter of a dropped weapon.

Bonnie found the loading bay by memory. She yanked the chain, and the door groaned upward, letting in a wash of cool, wet air. J-Mac appeared beside her, silhouetted against the rain, a second pistol in his hand. J-Mac shot her a look— what are you doing

Corrigan stepped closer. “Keys. Now.”

The men who’d caught them were amateurs. That was the only reason Bonnie and J-Mac were still breathing. Professionals would have put a bullet in each of their skulls the second they’d snatched them from the motel. But amateurs wanted to talk. Amateurs wanted to gloat. “Lie,” she said, grinning

Corrigan’s eyes glittered. Bingo.