The drive back from South Boston through the howling nor'easter had been a test of Sean's tactical driving. The Atlantic gale had flooded the lower underpasses beneath Storrow Drive, forcing the armored Escalade through the deserted, wind-swept avenues of the Back Bay. Sleet lashed against the ballistic glass, the wipers beating a frantic, rhythmic tempo against the storm. Maeve had sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the blurred…
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