The woman grabbed a set of keys from under the counter and threw them to me. “Don’t scratch it,” she said, her booming voice echoing around the garage. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, looking down at the set of keys in my hand, which said Aston Martin. At any other point in my life, I would have smiled, but the concern for Daniel and Jess overrode the emotion, even when I found the gunmetal-gray Vanquish coupe and got inside.
Do NOT destroy the Aston!
