Did he just rip out the engine?" I asked. "Yes", Saiman said. "And now he is demolishing the Maserati with it." Ten seconds later Curran hurled the twisted wreck of black and orange that used to be the Maserati into the wall. The first melodic notes of an old song came from the computer. I glanced at Saiman. He shrugged. "It begged for a soundtrack.

Go to the Black Sea, meet new people, see beautiful places, get killed by a mutant carnivorous kangaroo goat. One item off my bucket list.

Maybe if I prayed to Miss Marple, she’d hook me up with a clue

I looked at him. "You really need to work on your threats. I can't tell if you're threatening me or inviting me for tea.

Every time I think you’ve reached the limits of arrogance, you show me new heights. Truly, your egotism is like the Universe—ever expanding.

You slept with Curran and you didn’t tell me? I’m your best friend.” “It didn’t come up.” “How disappointing for you.” Ha-ha. “That’s not what I meant.

Tiny gold sparks flared in his irises. "You're in my rooms in my bathtub naked and you're still mouthing off." Did he expect anything different? "Hey, I didn't kick or punch you in the throat. I consider this progress. And you haven't choked me again, which is some sort of record for you.