“Are you going to kill this guy? Or are we just going to sit here all night?”
“Patience, Finn,” I murmured. “We’ve been in the car for only an hour.”
“Longest hour of my life,” he muttered.
I arched an eyebrow and looked over at Finnegan Lane, my partner in crime for the night. Most nights, actually. Just after ten o’clock a few days before Christmas, and we sat in the darkened front of Finn’s black Cadillac Escalade. An hour ago, Finn had parked the car in a secluded, out-of-the-way alley overlooking the docks that fronted the Aneirin...