The whole car reeked of gasoline—that was Justin Fisher’s doing.
Even the seats, made of a mix of cotton and leather, were soaked with the smell.
Justin itched like he had ants under his skin.
Leslie Green reached out toward Broderick Ackerley, clearly wanting him to hand over the lighter.
Broderick shook his head, voice low and steady. “Leslie, let me do it.”
He wasn’t about to sit this one out.
Leslie looked over at Miles Ackerley, who was in total disarray.
“Miles, don’t you want revenge?”
Miles’ hand hung by his side, then curled tightly into a fist.
Was he really gonna be the one to light it?
Seeing his hesitation, Leslie let out a faint, mocking laugh but didn’t press.
She tilted her head back, glanced at the sky, then suddenly laughed out loud.
