the boys be
wall of the VIP lounge, pressin
ugh the fro
the corridor. Earpieces coiled behind their ears. Mo
o to his mouth. His face
lungs
ous. They'd h
. Pointed a small finger toward a gray '
print on his tablet. "Corridor leads
rport schematics. Survival instinct ro
her knees, ripped
combat, prop wrangling, desperate scra
ench coat. Shoved the smallest bo
y around the left boy's head, covering his hair
traw hat, crammed it onto t
l mask over her nose and mouth. The fabric felt f
lead bodyguard pointe
ya
oped the smallest boy into her left arm. Gr
ms as a shield – a trick learned d
st toward th
. Head turned. Eyes locked
heart st
pulling the boys flat against her
d into his pocket. A small
ripping out his earpiece, face cont
o
en, dragging the boys into th
e VIP lounge do
a voic
ce
half-carried, half-dragged t
hless giggles vibrated against her neck – a bizarre counterpoin
r his mouth. "Shh!" Cold s
e door loomed. Greerash bar with
Cold, damp garage
ped onto
ed violently, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away
ck Maybach glided forw
from her knees,
d the front passenger door
d out, forming an impassable
ll-closed rear driver's side
in the sha
d from arctic ice. Cold. B
/1/113831/coverbig.jpg?v=a8b1d7f36a550a9a6fece807b7cf28b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)