“Yeah.” He leaned his hip against the counter. “After all that stuff came out about him, I wasn’t sure. But now…”
“Now what?”
“He’s a good guy and he really cares about you. I trust him.”
A small smile curved her lips. She wasn’t sure why, but she liked that her brother approved.
Her phone vibrated, and she looked down again, expecting to see another text from Zane.
It wasn’t.
Unknown number: Feeling safe?
Her heart stuttered, and she shot up so fast her stool hit the floor. “Noah.”
“What is it?”
Another text came through.
Unknown number: You shouldn’t be. No one Zane cares about is safe. He lost that privilege when he stabbed me in the back.
“He’s messaging me,” Bonnie whispered.
“Who?” Noah grabbed her cell, his gaze running over the words before he cursed. “I’m calling Jesse.”
“What’s going on?” Indie asked, as she stepped back into the room.
“He got my number.” Bonnie turned to glance out at the street. “I’m closing the curtains.”
It was probably overkill, but there was this pit in her stomach, and doing something felt better than nothing.
She moved to the window.
“What’s that?” Indie asked.
Bonnie looked up. She’d just spotted the person crouching behind a car on the street when Indie screamed. Her sister dove on top of her as a bullet cut through the glass.
Bonnie gasped as they hit the floor, and a second later, Noah was dragging them both away from the window to the corner of the room. That’s when Bonnie saw the blood.
Notherblood, though.
Her gaze shot up. “Indie…”
Zane slipped through the trees,the Airbnb house in view.
He couldn’t see Ethan, but he knew his friend was on the other side somewhere. They’d already been to three other properties, all with booking dates that coincided with the prisoner break. Monty hadn’t been at any of them.
Was he here? All the curtains were closed, and there were no vehicles out front. Didn’t mean the house was empty though.
With the Glock held close to his body, he kept low and jogged forward, scanning his surroundings as he moved. When he reached the window, he lifted a rock and gently tossed it at the glass before dropping to the side of the house.
If there was someone inside, they’d hear it.
One minute passed. Then another. Nothing.
Quickly, he pulled out his pick and slipped it into the window. The lock clicked and he pushed the window open before climbing through and dropping inside with a quiet thud.
A twin bed centered the room, with bedside tables on either side, and an old freestanding armoire was positioned against the opposite wall. That was it. No bags. No people.
