Very slowly, she peeked around the tree trunk. Saw a slim, petite figure, flanked by two very large, very dangerous-looking soldier of fortune types picking their way through the bodies and the rubble. "Amy?" Oh, God. It was Amy. "Get away from her," Jenna ordered, stepping out from behind the conifer, wielding the iron pan like a club. Both men stopped. Glanced at her. Glanced at each other over Amy's head. "What?" The biggest one grunted out a surly laugh. "Or you'll souffle us?" Okay. She was definitely going after him first.

I existed until I met you. Now I'm alive.

I don't think sleeping with you is going to solve anything," she said, stopping at the guest bedroom door. "I don't really care what you think.

He knew he wasn't going anywhere that didn't take him to her.

Amy, listen to me. What I do. The choices I make. They're mine. Only mine. The consequences of those decisions—mine. "Mine," he repeated when she sighed heavily. "No one else's." Silence. Only the warm wetness of her tears dampening his shirt. It broke his heart.

I generally find subtlety a waste of time.

Okay, I'm guessing you're gonna give us the bad news first because there's no good news?