You'll start talking, and pretty soon we'll all start nodding, and then the next thing you know, I'm hang gliding off the Eiffel Tower at night, being chased by ninja vampires

Let's do it. Monkeys are always funny. You pretty much can't go wrong with a monkey, right? Hi paused. Well unless that monkey wants you dead, or does needle drugs or something. Then it's wrong, and a bad monkey.

We did just leave an insane asylum,” Hi agreed. “For all we know, Chance spend his nights dancing naked with sock puppets, plotting to invade Canada.

Amazing.” Hi stripped off his shirt, wrung it out. “Score one for your honker.” “Thanks, I think.” I cocked my chin at Hi’s substantial midsection. “Nice abs.” “Yeah, I work out twice a month. No expectations. But stop hitting on me, it’s embarrassing.

Fine. Everybody wears seatbelts. No radio. No distractions.” Ben shot Hi a stern look. “No running commentary.” “Your loss,” Hi said. “To the pimp ride!

Though a good cop, Luc Claudel has the patience of a firecracker, the sensitivity of Vlad the Impaler, and a persistent skepticism as to the value of forensic anthropology. Snappy dresser, though.

I hated myself for needing him at such times, for craving his strength whenever I felt upset.