Curran and I mixed about as well as glycerin and nitric acid: put us together, shake a bit, and hit the deck as we exploded.

I will kill him.” “Erra’s eyebrows rose. “You’d have to go through me first.” I shrugged. “I have to do something for a warm-up.” She laughed softly. “That’s the spirit. I do think you might be my favorite niece.

Yep.” Eloquence ’R’ Us. When in trouble, keep it monosyllabic—safer that way.

Judging by the hard lines of his face and the flat look in his eyes, he'd left the Marines, but the Corps hadn't quite left him.

It was one of those idiotic things that could've been resolved in a split second. Tara had no right to touch Raphael, and once she did he had every right to punch her. She should've left it at that, and now she was dead because she didn't.

...they tended towards the simple pleasures in life: drinking, whoring and fighting, preferably all three at once.

I almost had her." Curran nodded. "I heard. And you could've taken her, too." My voice came out flat. "Rub it in, why don't you." He grinned. "No time for that now, maybe later." I closed my eyes. There wouldn't be any later. "Are you imagining me rubbing it in?" he asked.