Shane looked faintly injured. “I make it my business to know everything about silver. And I saw your notes. I study up on everything when it comes to your boss, anyway.” There was a flicker of jealousy about that, but she didn’t have time, or energy, to consider it very much. Not even whether or not she liked it.

Right. I’ve been missing Nutty McFang anyway.” “Stop making up names for him.” “What about Count Crackula?” “Just stop.

Glad it was you and not me," Shane said, and offered Myrin a hand up. "Any brain damage?" "Since the bullet actually passed through his brain, then yes, idiot boy, there's certainly brain damage," Oliver said. "It will pass. His brain's the least fragile thing about him." "You say the nicest things," Myrin said. He was slurring his words, and he threw an arm around Oliver's neck. "Marry me.

She was staring at you.’’ ‘‘What can I say? Irresistible.’’ ‘‘Shane, it’s not funny. I just—you should be careful.’’ ‘‘Always am.’’ Which was an absolute lie. Shane’s eyes fixed on hers, and she felt a burst of heat inside that crept up to burn in her cheeks. He smiled slowly. ‘‘Jealous?’’ ‘‘Maybe.’’ ‘‘No reason. I like my ladies with a pulse.

If you ask me if I’m imagining it again, I’m going to punch you out, Dead Man Walking.” Michael raised his eyebrows and glanced at Eve. “He doesn’t sound crazy.” “Er,” she clarified, “crazier. He sounds like he’s back to normal, which is baseline crazy.

I'd blurted out the question only to keep him from noticing that I was working my hands free, but the Warden behind me, some young brown-haired surfer dude, yelled a warning. "She's getting loose!" Narc.

Sure. Knock yourself out. No, really. Hammer to the head, works every time.” Claire