“She’s been inside forever,” I say.
Seth glances toward the boutique entrance. “She’ll come out soon.”
I shift my focus back to the driver.
He moves a few feet away from the SUV, and his jacket falls open as he walks. The gun at his side is easy to spot now. An inside-the-waistband holster sits on his right hip.
Seth sees it at the same time I do.
The driver paces along the curb with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other, drifting farther down the sidewalk as he scrolls. He pauses every few steps to type, then keeps walking without once looking back at the vehicle.
From the back seat, Beau finally speaks.
“What’s in the cooler?”
Seth lets out a quiet breath that almost passes for a laugh.
“A gift,” he says. “For Sophie.”
Beau looks at the cooler and smirks.
Seth shifts his attention to the SUV across the street. “It’s time.”
I nod.
We both step out before the driver even thinks to turn around. Seth crosses the street with calm confidence, blending into the flow of pedestrians. I head in the opposite direction along the sidewalk, then circle back behind the parked SUV. I slip behind the SUV and press the release beneath the rear hatch. The trunk pops open with a soft click. I lift it just enough to slide inside and lower it quietly behind me. I shift across the cargo space and lower myself flat against the floor behind the folded seats.
The passenger door opens.
Seth slides into the seat before the driver reaches the door.
The driver climbs in, still distracted by whatever is on his phone. He shuts the door and tosses the device onto the center console before finally turning his head.
“What the f—”
Seth moves before the sentencefinishes.
The knife drives forward beneath the man’s ribs.
The driver’s eyes widen as the blade punches into him. Air bursts from his lungs in a wet gasp. His hand drops toward the holster at his hip.
Seth twists the knife deeper.
The man’s shoulders jerk as pain tears through him. His fingers brush the grip of the gun but never close around it.
Seth rips the blade free and drives it into him again with brutal force.
Blood spreads across the front of the man’s shirt and soaks into the seat. His mouth opens twice as if he means to shout. Only a choking sound comes out.
Seth grabs the back of his collar and forces him forward against the steering wheel.
The driver slumps there with his forehead resting just above the horn.
From the trunk I watch Seth wipe the blade against the man’s sleeve before sliding the knife back beneath his jacket.
Then he shifts the body slightly so it leans naturally toward the wheel, like a driver bent forward to check something on the dashboard.
I stay perfectly still in the cargo space and watch the boutique entrance through the narrow strip of glass behind me.
