The wail of sirens slid farther into the distance. Ethan Blake decided this was his chance.
“What’re you thinking, kid? If I hadn’t dragged you into the van I might’ve remembered that sack of cash. Robbing a bank isn’t easy these days. Try anything funny and I’ll put a bullet in your head right now!” the fat man snarled, pressing the muzzle harder against Ethan’s temple.
Ethan said nothing, only let his eyes flick toward the fat man. That look—half-assessment, half-calm—set the man off. “What’s that look? You sneerin’ at me?”
“You were the one who pulled me onto the van. I was about to tell you to grab that other sack,” Ethan said evenly.
“You supposed to have reminded me!” the fat man snapped. “Wait—what did you call me?”
“Fat man,” Ethan answered, dry.
“Hey—who do you think you are
