. . and then three hunky bank robbers took me hostage. Sure, I'd always dreamed of escaping my life, but I was thinking Greyhound bus - not getaway vehicle! Then I started asking questions, and I found out about their rules. These guys have more rules than a grammar class. Except their rules are shockingly dirty. And way more fun to memorize. They're letting me stay for now, but I'm never supposed to ask their real names. Or where they're from, or why they lead this life. And we can never, ever think about tomorrow. Here's a secret: I'm starting to suspect my tough-as-nails outlaws might have tender-as-taffy hearts. And every night I go to sleep wishing this didn't have to end.