Alyssa

"Took you long enough," Christine scoffs, sliding into the backseat in a skin-tight pink dress. Her matching purse sits daintily on her lap, as if we're actually going shopping instead of plotting a break-in.

King's jaw ticks, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. I see the retort brewing on his lips, but he swallows it down. I squeeze his hand, silently begging him. Let's just get this over with. Please don't strangle her and toss her body out on the side of the ...