Page 467 - Anonymous
P. 467
locks. She wears black cowboy boots, a
floral dress, and a black leather jacket.
“Gracie. Where were you?” Worried
eyes land on her daughter.
She points to me, and Sin's face
breaks into a smile. "Now that right,
there is a looker," my father whispers. I
shake my head, but he's right. That she
is. The whole fucking package and she's
about to go down for murder. What are
the chances?
