Devoted in Death (In Death #41)

addiction.

A thin snow started to spit out of grumpy gray skies. Which meant, Eve knew, that at least fifty percent of the drivers currently on the road would lose a minimum of one-third of their intelligence quotient, any skill they’d previously held at operating a vehicle thereby turning what had been the standard annoying traffic into mayhem.

Breath is life. You are not the pebble washed to shore by the wave, but the fish that swims in the wave. Breathe in to fill, to draw in the light.

Breath is life. You are not the pebble washed to shore by the wave, but the fish that swims in the wave. Breathe in to fill, to draw in the light. Slow,” he told her, “with awareness. Breathe out to empty. And pause, hold in that space between. Now in to fill.

Cold as a bitch’s tit.” “It’s ‘witch’s.’” “Why? Doesn’t matter,” Eve said quickly. “Neither way makes sense. If somebody’s a witch, why do they put up with cold tits? I’m a bitch, and twenty-four hours ago, my tits were plenty warm.

cowboy bar in Dry Creek, a place many who lived there considered

Erotica so he’d last longer.

Guilt’s oozing out of the son—name’s Jimbo, and I’m sorry about that. And Bubba’s getting sweaty.

He glided

He wore command as he wore his suit—a good fit with clean lines.

Love, she knew—where once she hadn’t believed—could be quiet and sweet, and still hold the world.

One look,

Or the ploy Dahmer used—that classic had proven to do the job in all the decades following. Lone woman struggling to lift something heavy into the back of a vehicle. Can

She stepped inside, into warmth and white marble veined with gray, into the strangely spicy scent of whatever the masses of bold flowers cast off from their silver urn on the central table.

She went to the AutoChef, programmed a vitamin smoothie. And was shocked when that’s exactly what she got.