She found time to say, “No,” to Wright’s hopeful grin. “I have something to check out. You . . . guard the truck.” “Sylvie,” Wright said, “no one wants this truck. I’m broke and on foot, and I don’t want this truck.” “Shh.” She put her hand up, signaling silence. The echoes were consolidating, be...
Behind that, a long white drive stretched forward surrounded by plush grass and tall, swaying palms. Pretty. Except when you were on the wrong side of the gate. Sylvie rolled down her window, reached out gingerly for the intercom. Last time she tried to talk to Val, it had been all aversion magic...