Donovan Caine wanted me, but he wasn't strong enough to accept me. Not my past, not my strength, not the woman I was. Bitter disappointment filled me, replacing my rage, but I forced myself to ask the final question I wanted an answer to.

Oh, Finn isn’t an assassin,” I cut in. “He’s much, much worse. He’s a banker.

Any chance of getting something sweet to go with my coffee?” [Finn] asked in a hopeful voice. I arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean all those pieces of strawberry pie that you ate for lunch weren't enough?” “I’m a growing boy,” Finn said in a sincere tone. “I need my vitamins.” Bria snorted. “The only thing that’s growing on you, Lane, is your ego.” Finn sidled up to my sister and gave her a dazzling smile. “Well, other things of mine also tend to swell up in your presence, detective.

It'll be okay, I promise. No matter what I see or feel. You'll still be Logan and I'll still be your Gypsy girl.

But I'd much rather face a dozen assassins like LaFleur any night than deal with something as tricky, convoluted, and fragile as my feelings.

Kiss me or let me go. I don’t care anymore.

Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?