It's Mari, Jack," Ken whispered, needing to say it aloud. "What?" Jack jerked around, staring at the sniper as the eyes fluttered closed. "Are you certain?" Ken pulled the woman's belt loose and buckled it around her leg. "Either that or your wife is playing sniper for the other team. It has to be Mari. She looks exactly like Briony.
Christine FeehanThe house is made up of the spirits of our ancestors. Did you think they would lie idly by while we were under attack?" 'Cuz, yeah, didn't everybody's ancestors rise up and destroy enemies.
Christine FeehanThey're spreading out. Look unaware and sweet and innocent. It's a little hard to look innocent when I'm as big as a house.
Christine FeehanYou aren't worried are you?" "Why should I be worried? It's just another day in the neighborhood. You know - bombs, fires, people shooting at you. Why should I be worried? Especially since we could be clothes shopping or boarding a plane. I'm not in the least worried." "Hmmm," he mused allowed. "I read about this in the relationship manual. It's called womanly sarcasm and usually means a man is in deep trouble.
Christine Feehan