Gin! Gin, are you here?” “Right behind you,” I said. Finn shrieked and whirled around. I winced at the high-pitched sound. “Dammit, woman.” He clutched the folder to his chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

You're late." "Sorry. I was busy talking about my feelings and killing people.

Are you coming along peaceful-like, or am I going to have to hog-tie you and put you in the car?

He realized something was going on between Logan and me. I wish he'd clue me in on exactly what it was, because I had no idea.

You bruised my ego, you see, and there’s just not enough money in the world to soothe my ego when it gets bruised

I don't judge you for what you've done, Gin. Why are you judging me for another man's mistakes?

Hope. An emotion that always kept suckering me in, time after time, despite my supposed retirement from the assassin business. Hope. The one thing that always seemed to get me into more trouble than just killing people for money ever had. Ah, hope. Sometimes, I really hated it.