“You got it.”

I watched as they transferred the money to the trunk of a yellow Hyundai and the bag with the clothes to the back of a green Dodge Ram truck. But the part that fascinated me the most was the fact that Michael and Sabrina peeled a plastic wrap off the sides of the van. I couldn’t see what the van now looked like from my vantage, but surely they had just changed its entire appearance.

They wadded the wrap and stuffed it into a storm drain; then Michael tossed Eric a set of keys. He jumped in the truck and started it up as Sabrina headed for the Hyundai while Michael took her place behind the wheel of the van.

“I’m going with the money,” the blond said, but Donovan pulled him back in and closed the door.

“We stick to the plan. Unless you want to give up your share and leave now.”

The guy sat back, his expression full of anger, and most of it was directed at me.

“Hold on to your panties,” Michael said as he charged forward. The Hyundai and the Dodge followed until they were out of the garage; then everyone went their separate ways.

“You just signed our arrest warrant,” the blond said to Donovan.

He unsheathed a wicked-looking knife, and my gaze locked on like a laser-guided missile. My chest weakened, the walls caving in as I withered inside myself like paper. I’d felt a knife once as it slipped past layers of flesh and tendon until it hit bone. It was not something I wanted to repeat.

He pointed it toward me. “Either she goes in the dirt,” he said, shifting the pointy end toward Donovan, “or you do.”

Adrenaline pumped hard through Donovan’s body, so if this chain of events surprised him, I couldn’t feel it. Without a hint of hesitation, he pulled his Glock and fired. For the third time that day, a gun went off way to close for comfort.

I should’ve known the day was going to turn out bad when it started with my father trying to kill me. They always went downhill from there.

“Fuck!” the guy yelled, ducking long after the bullet flew past him and broke through the glass of one door.

He’d ducked, too. For some reason, that made me feel better about my earlier reaction. But not about the sound. Nausea punched into my stomach and pushed hard, but I was getting used to the massive adrenaline dumps. I tensed and fought the surge of bile, forcing it down and holding it there.

“Drop the knife, and the next round will never leave the chamber.”

The guy tossed the knife right at me, but more as a warning than an attack. It hit my shoulder and landed harmlessly on the metal floor with a clang. I grabbed it before the guy could change his mind. The blade was as long as my forearm, and holding it did little to alleviate the fear coursing through me. I couldn’t help but wonder if Reyes had been right. I was afraid of a guy with a knife. Two months ago, that would only have registered about a 4 on my Richter scale, but now the slightest offense seemed to rocket my fear response off the charts.

We hit a rough spot as Michael barreled forward, and then the world went dark. Everyone exited out different doors: Michael out the driver’s door, the blond out the back, and Donovan out the sliding side door. He grabbed the last bag and nodded for me to follow him. We were in his detached garage.

Michael was busy taking off yet another wrap; this one had yellow letters that read D & D PLUMBING. Now the van that had been black when I first saw it was white. Clever.

“You kidnapped me,” I said to Donovan.

“We didn’t kidnap you. We borrowed you.”

“You took me hostage.”

“Which is like borrowing.”

I marched behind him and he busied himself with this task or that one. “Why banks? Why do this?”

He dropped his gaze and fiddled with his gloves, unsnapping and resnapping the strap. “Sadly, we won’t see a penny of that money we took today.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“That was the goal.” He lifted his brows into a shrug. “It was always the goal. We had to make it look like we were just robbing banks randomly. Like we just stumbled upon a fresh shipment of cash by accident. Like we didn’t know it would be there. Waiting.”

I’d wondered how they happened upon so much cash.

He took out a saddlebag and stuffed it with some personal effects. “The deal was we get to keep everything we’ve taken so far. That’s our payoff. But the money from the heist today all goes to one guy.”

“And who would that be?”

“The guy who’s blackmailing us.”

The air siphoned out of my lungs as I laughed; then I realized he was being serious. “You’re being blackmailed to rob banks?”

“Stranger things have happened,” he said, lifting one shoulder.

“Not to me.” When he offered me a skeptical stare, I said, “Well, okay, but this is still a bit out there, even for me. Donovan, what happened?”

“I happened.” Eric walked up then. He’d apparently ditched the truck and strolled up to us with hardly a care in the world. “I was jumped one night outside a club by a group of guys, and I killed one of them. This guy filmed the whole thing.”

“He has evidence that would put all of us away for a long time. We were there. I watched it happen. Eric was holding his own, so I didn’t step in. But we just left the guy there.”

“We didn’t think he’d die,” Eric said. “Those guys f**king started it.”

“But if it was self-defense?”