A single gunshot. Then a pained yelp, followed by the clatter of a dropped weapon.
“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.” 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. A single gunshot
J-Mac’s voice cut through the noise, calm as a stone. “Corrigan. You said we were ghosts. You were right. And you know what ghosts do to people who try to cage them?” “Docked at the old lumber mill
“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.”
“Syndicate,” J-Mac repeated, his voice a low gravel. “Then you’re just middlemen, Corrigan. Which means you want more than the money. You want the location of the rest of it. The Diamond Duchess haul.”