He made a show of checking his shoulder rig, then pretending he had an itch, slid a hand along his calf to confirm that his Glock 27 was safely tucked into his ankle holster. He wanted to put the Bank Bandits in jail, but he didn’t want to die doing it. He had a life to get back to. A life that hinged on the success of his mission today. And on Lily forgiving him. The van stopped. Rourke Walsh, the leader of this band of deadly misfits, cleared his throat. “Ready, ladies?” Connor looked around. The van had pulled into a parking spot just in front of a Bank of America. What the hell? He eyed his partners in crime. None appeared concerned. “Aren’t we supposed to hit the CitiBank on Jackson?” He glanced at Owen, looking for confirmation, but his friend kept staring at the back of the driver’s head. Something was going on, something bad. Rourke grinned. “You know what they say, once a conman always a conman. Think of this as a test. I got a buddy scoping out the CitiBank. Cops show up there, I’ll know we can’t trust you.”
