This posting is for
ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY.
It contains
substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language, which may be
considered offensive by some readers.
The letter
was addressed to Mr. Colin Bliss.
It sat
on my desk, propped against the framed photograph of Anthony and me. This
reminded me that, as we were no longer “an item,” I really needed to dispose
of that photograph of my chief and me. It was bound to look a trifle like I
was sucking up, and I’d already done enough of that in every conceivable
form.
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But
in not losing, he had begun to realize he had lost. He’d lost his life while taking the lives of others. Not literally.
He was physically alive; he ate, he slept, he…existed. Therein lay the
problem, as all he did was exist. He was thirty-four and had nothing to show
for his life except money in the bank.
page 18, iBook
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Charlie
Baker held the cell phone in his hand, staring at it blankly. He swept his
thumb over the picture on the display, waiting for the old hurt to return,
but it didn’t. […]
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“You
guessed.”
“Yeah,
it kind of popped into my head that he might be gay when we were making out backstage
in between scenes during The Music Man.”
Page 47, iBook
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“Shit.”
Bobby, aka, ‘Prizm’, peered over the edge of the roof again then pulled his
head back quickly. When he took another cautious look, he thanked his lucky
stars he’d decided to sleep on up there tonight, not in one of the doorways.
Down below him in the alley two kids he
vaguely knew were being rousted by a pair of cops […]
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“I’m
her father.”
“You
gave her life; Noah is her father. […] Without him, even if you see her, you
have no family.”
Page 62, iBook
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Goddamnit,
Calebneeded a good, hard fuck.
He
didn’t have a particular preference for what the woman should look like. Hell,
he wasn’t picky; he enjoyed them all. As long as they loved the act of
fucking just as much as he did, […]
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I instantly
realized my mistake. Kissing in public? Kissing in front of Angus and Natalie
and for all the world to see? I was already pulling back, trying to make it
look like I’d sort of lost balance and weaved forward, when he stopped
me—hand on my shoulder—and kissed me.
Page 193, iBook
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Everyone
dreams.
Even those
who wake without memory of their dreams spend time on the unconscious plane. Some
people dream in vivid color and detail, while others amble along, their
nocturnal journeys little more than a regurgitation of the prior day’s events—in
black and white, no less.
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