Just don’t look at it, Boyd kept thinking. The engine purred like a kitten, the bits of plastic had been meticulously picked off of seat and floor, and if he could just ignore the mangled steering column and the screwdriver sticking out of what had once been the ignition, as if some psycho had stabbed the vehicle in her throat, Boyd could almost convince himself the car was still perfect.
“You don’t touch these lock pins from this point forward,” Boyd had told a shocked and stunned Oliver. “And you can say goodbye to the idea of sleeping in a hotel from now on as well.” Until he could get back to Syracuse and fix what he’d just damaged, his baby was going to be unprotected by either lock or ignition. Any Joe Blow off the street could slide into her and drive away and that was not going to
