the smuggler’s bible


In a perfect world, Fiona would find a car—something mean with horsepower and an engine rumble you can feel in your chest cavity—unattended with the keys on the seat. Then, she’s free and clear across the horizon and nobody’s heart gets broken.

Well, not hers at least.

Instead, she wins a clunker off of an idiot in a poker game and has to break his arm before he decides to cover the bet. There isn’t even a sidecar. The cat rides in her satchel.

“Stop fidgeting,” she says over her shoulder. “This wreck wobbles enough as it is.”