Fantasy in Death (In Death #30)

A lot of nasty things grow out of love if it isn’t ... tended right. Jealousy, hate, resentment, suspicion.

Christ Jesus Eve. The girl's shattered like glass, and it'll take a blood miracle to put her together again. And you're standing here talking about fucking games?"
She met fire with ice. "Obviously your heartstrings are playing a tune."
"It might be because I have them," he shot back. "Because I'm not so caught up trying to win some shagging game that I consider a young woman a logical choice. She's still alive, Lieutenant. She's not on your side of the board yet."
"Why don't you go back to the waiting area. You can all join hands. Maybe hold a prayer meeting. You go ahead and do that while the one who put her in the OR is chuckling up his sleeve. I've got better things to do."
She strode away, steeling both her heart and belly against the hurt. It wasn't just the body she thought that could shatter. And it wasn't only fists and pipes and bats that could shatter it.

Do you think the penis ever gets tired?"


Anybody's. I mean anybody with one. Does the penis ever just think: for God's sake pal, give it a rest? Or is it all: Woo-who!! Here we go again!

His in-house intercom greeted him with a cheery 'Welcome home, Bart,' and his server droid - custom-made to replicate Princess Leia, classic 'Star Wars,' slave-girl mode (he was a nerd, but he was still a guy) - strolled out to offer him his favorite orange fizzy with crushed ice.

Hotter than a fuck in hell.

I know love, and what it does to you, for you. I know that it can bloom out of friendship, or that friendship can open out of love. Both are precious. And when you have both, there’s little that can’t be done.

It may be you confused undercover with undercovered.

It’s a mistake to be too much one of your own as they’ll never see you as fully in charge.

It’s Nerd World,” Peabody said. “Or Geek Galaxy. I can’t decide which because it’s full of nerds and geeks.” “It’s Nerd World in the Geek Galaxy.

I’ve eliminated everything else. This is what’s left. And when you’ve eliminated everything else, what’s left should be true.

Maybe I just didn’t want it to be Benny because he really loves her, and if I was wrong about that, it’d be depressing. Who wants to be depressed?”

“Poets,” Eve decided. “You have to think they must.”

“Okay, other than poets.

Maybe they're out doing the tango and drinking tequila shots." He sent Eve a grin. "As we will be when we reach their age. After which we'll come home and have mad sex."

"For God's sake. This is on the record."

"Yes, I know." He stepped off with her on Var's floor. "I wanted those future plans to be official as well.

Murder did that. Took lives, crushed others, changed still others forever.

No one’s indispensable. Except you to me.

Officer down. Officer down."

"I'm an officer now, am I? That's insult to injury.

One might be a coincidence.” Hands on her hips, she turned back. “Put them together it’s a pattern.

People often do the incomprehensible. It’s what makes them so fascinating.

She strode away, steeling both her heart and her belly against the hurt. It wasn’t just the body, she thought, that could shatter. And it wasn’t only fists and pipes and bats that could shatter it.

She wondered why two people who loved each other to the point of stupid managed to aggravate each other as often as they seemed to.

That was another thing about partners, she decided. They knew what would make you laugh, often before you did.

Try to look like Peabody."


"Serious, official, yet approachable."

"You forgot adorable."

"Peabody is not adorable."

"She is from my perspective. Besides, I was talking about me.

What’s the point of playing if winning isn’t the goal?

When someone believes they’re smarter, more talented, just plain more right than anyone else, and they harbor this kind of need, they’re very, very dangerous.

When you don’t know what you can have, you do okay with what you’ve got.

Winning can be addictive,” Mira agreed. “So can murder.

You’ve played the games. You’re a competitive soul.” “What’s the point of playing if winning isn’t the goal?