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.
He backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side, and she tasted copper. J-Mac lunged against his restraints, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “You touch her again, and the only thing you’ll be counting is your own teeth on the floor.” bonnie blue jmac
Corrigan laughed, but it was thin. He gestured to a rusted table where their duffel bags lay open. Stacks of cash—the take from the last job—were piled sloppily. “See, here’s the problem. This money is ours . You idiots robbed the wrong courier. That was a delivery for the Serpent Syndicate.” The men who’d caught them were amateurs
“They’re on the boat,” Bonnie said. “Docked at the old lumber mill. But you’ll need a boat yourself to get there. The bridge is out.” But amateurs wanted to talk