“The Bonnie Blue and the J-Mac,” sneered the leader, a weasel-faced man named Corrigan. He paced in front of them, cheap boots squeaking on the damp floor. “The ghosts of the Ozarks. The duo who robbed the Diamond Duchess casino and vanished into thin air. And now? Now you look like a couple of drowned cats.”
“Lie,” she said, grinning. “But there’s a getaway car two blocks west. I always have a backup.” bonnie blue jmac
Bonnie shifted her weight, feeling for the tiny sliver of metal she’d palmed from a broken chair leg an hour ago. She’d been working the zip tie against it, strand by strand. She felt the last fiber give. Her hands were free, but she kept them behind her back, wrists together. “The Bonnie Blue and the J-Mac,” sneered the
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. The duo who robbed the Diamond Duchess casino