I love being a pavement artist; seriously, I do. It's like when guys who would normally hate being freakishly tall discover basketball, or when girls with abnormally long fingers sit down at a piano. Blending in, going unseen, being a shadow in the sun is what I'm good at. Seeing the shadows, it turns out, is not my natural gift.

"Good for him," Hale said. And then he stopped. There were four other people in the room, but Hale only looked at Kat, and something in his gaze burned her, froze her, made her want to run.

Tell me Zach.” I don’t know if it was the wind or the adrenaline, but I shivered. “And don’t lie to me.

That's good; don't deny it. Denying the undeniable just makes you sound like a fool as well as a liar. In this profession, you can be one- sometimes the other. But never both.

Macey was just starting to argue when Abby asked, "What can you tell me about the gunmen?" "They're amateurs," Hale said at the exact same time Macey told her teacher, "They're pros.

Its Vermeer" Kat turned to the boy who lingered in the doorway. "It's stolen" "What can I say?" Hale eased behind her and studied the painting over her shoulder. "I met a very nice man who bet me he had the best security system in Istanbul." His breath was warm on the back of her neck. "He was mistaken.

The whole summer lay ahead of us-time to rest, time to wait. And when the future comes-no matter what comes with it-I'll be smarter. I'll be stronger. I'll be ready.