A bad deal by a deity or its mate will ruin the universe.
A quick telephone call to Jake Weller produced no further word on whether or not Fitzgerald had reported as summoned to Denver.
A simple yes or no would have sufficed.
A simple yes or no would suffice.
A woman identified herself as Mrs. Fryatt and asked if Martha had telephoned today, or if we'd heard from her, or from her mother, or anyone else concerning Martha.
Absent one of those gizmos to see around corners or a newspaper with a hole in it to held high like all the really cool spies do, Dean tried the direct approach.
After many adventures I reached Omaha, only to find that all my old friends were dead or had moved away.
After you have written three or four words, you can put them together, can you not?
Alfonso looked to be a year or so older than Jonathan.
All people need rest, even if they are made of wood, and as there is no night here they select a certain time of the day in which to sleep or doze.
All she could do was hope she passed out and awoke in her bed or on the beach or not at all.
All she had to do was practice for a day or two and then find Gabriel.
All the answers had either died with Josh or would likely remain a secret with Lori.
All the guests are staying put, with no check-ins or check-outs, Cynthia said as she and her husband sat down to lunch.
Am I speaking simply enough, Dusty, or do I need to dumb it down more?
An instinct wriggled, one she didn't want to acknowledge or deal with.
And because human nature changes either not at all or very slowly, people make the same choices over and over again.
And because some little snot-nose has a vivid imagination, or thinks it's fun to tell whoppers, I'm supposed to go traipsing off in some god-forsaken mine on the taxpayer's expense on a treasure hunt?
And then there was that other thing – their love life, or lack thereof.
And yet, he couldn't deny that Deidre was back or at least, a woman who had the knowledge of the goddess and the body and heart of a human.
And you'd better come too or you'll never find your way out of this hole.
Anyway, if it's company you want, why not take Julia or Rachel?
Are you going to continue to play detective and grill the poor woman, or is this a fun trip?
Are you going to let him slip out of your hands or are you going to do something?
Asking about Josh-the-miner is like asking about Joe-with-a-moustache or John-who-drives-a-snowplow.
Basically. Or would've been, if Darkyn hadn't decided to honor the informal deal he made with her.
Before she became a human, she never understood him or what he felt and thought.
Besides, Dean thought, Randy—single or married—probably has more sense than to get knocked on his ass by a zillion pounds of water pressure aimed at his body.
Bill usually came over in the evening to help, and sometimes Sean or Paul.
Bird Song was empty, or so they thought, when they returned.
But he's far too young to have had any involvement with the Dawkinses, the mine, or the skeleton.
But how did one misplace or lose millions?
But that doesn't mean we didn't love each other or have a super twelve years together.
But then, she hadn't approved of his drinking or the way he treated Lori either.
But then, that was obvious or she wouldn't have hired someone the way she did.
But, if an Immortal or human or deity corners you, and you aren't able to summon me, you need to know how to defend yourself, Darkyn started.
Carmen was always willing to listen, whether it was something happening at work or his plans about the wildlife safari.
Certainly he has no ties to Josh Mulligan of forty years ago, or the Dawkins, or the Lucky Pup mine.
Common sense tells us the obvious is usually where the truth rests and the obvious is either Fitzgerald or someone in the Dawkins family.
Could be an underground spring or river or something causing them to move.
Coupling words with a gentle caress or lifting her into his arms and carrying her to their bedroom never failed to excite her.
Cynthia scrunched close to Dean's ear, trying to hear the conversation, and offered a word or two as well.
Cynthia thought a second or two, careful with her answer.
Darkness moved in quickly now, and he knew he'd soon need help and more light than a simple flashlight to locate a wreck, if in fact a vehicle had plunged to the valley floor, a hundred or more feet below.
Darkyn didn't restrict her movement or who she saw, but the idea of seeing Gabriel again so soon after their meeting yesterday disturbed her.
Darkyn is not an easy person to understand or live with, and I'm still not certain at all what to think of him at times.
Darkyn's daughter appeared frail and gaunt, her skin a shade or two darker than the white pillow beneath her head.
David Dean harbored serious doubts about leaving Lydia Larkin's apartment without either contacting the police or calling an ambulance—or maybe a lawyer.
Dawkins, Sr. had never hired another mine manager after Josh and never so much as mentioned the Lucky Pup after that time—to his sons or his wife.
Deals made while the negotiator is distracted or emotional are easier to win, he said.
Dean had trouble remembering who was who but all were of like mind in their affection for the old man who turned up the charm meter a notch or two.
Dean was sure that, deep down, she thought whacking at a ball or chasing one someone else clobbered was an extended children's game and certainly not a worthwhile profession.
Deidre braced herself for his violent reaction or words.
Deidre hadn't tried to dye her hair pink or hide the fact she was different.
Deidre never felt she belonged in the mortal or Immortal worlds, because she didn't.
Deidre nodded, unable to think of a response that didn't involve crying or fleeing.
Deidre paced through the garden, not really interested in the blooming flowers, statuary or neat rows of hedges.
Deidre shifted, aware again that she was now defenseless against the creatures that used to either fear her or at least, respect her power.
Deidre stared at him as if deciding whether she wanted to be angry or disappointed.
Deidre took some solace from the fact he didn't laugh or throw her out.
Deidre wasn't certain if that was good or not.
Deidre wasn't certain if there was any affection for his daughter, though his persistence in healing her was a sign of either care or obligation.
Demon Law offers you no protection, Death's mate or not.
Depending on provocation—any or none.
Destiny had finally reached the point that she would tolerate being held by Lori, but after a few minutes she was ready to get down or go to Alex, Carmen or Jonathan.
Did anyone come to visit you or anything?
Did he arrange to have Alex out of the way, or was he simply taking advantage of the situation?
Did he trust her or assume she knew better than to run?
Did you read this somewhere or do you just have a vivid imagination?
Do you need the original, or can I keep it?
Do you want me to make love to you or hug you?
Do you want the job or don't you?
Do you want to go or not?
Do you want to talk to Len, or Howard?
Either Cynthia's presence relaxed her or she'd decided David Dean was not a combatant from the enemy camp.
Either Gabriel killed him here, or he killed Logan in her apartment.
Either she was dead and didn't know it, or she was close enough to take matters into her own hands.
Either that or scare us badly.
Either you'll die or you won't.
Even his lingering doubt about the real cost of her deals with Darkyn didn't extend to the question of whether or not he was meant to be with the woman in his arms.
Even if you reject me or hate me or … She cleared her throat.
Even the doctor had no idea if or how quickly he would return to normal.
Everything he did was to help her, or so he thought.
Everything Miss Sullivan taught me she illustrated by a beautiful story or a poem.
Finding another Dawkins in one of Ouray's dozen or two lodging places shouldn't be much trouble for an ace detective-almost sheriff.
Fred had told him the young girl lived between divorced parents, always at odds with one or the other.
Gabe had never heard of Logan Myers and didn't know what connection he might have, considering he had no living relatives or friends, aside from Rhyn and Katie.
God, maybe it got infected or something!
Have a shot or two of whiskey.
He also wasn't going to let the Dark One hurt or threaten or even talk to his mate ever again.
He and his buddies finished first six or seven times in a row.
He appeared to be close to eleven or twelve.
He ate without waiting for her, his eyes either glued to her or the door.
He can't bear to pass up an antique bargain—buying or selling.
He cannot enter Death's domain or other areas of the Immortal world without invitation.
He could easily overpower her in a struggle or outlast her in a chase.
He could lie and tell them he was a police officer or sheriff and maybe squeeze some tidbit of information about recently released mom Patsy, but surely Fitzgerald would find out and tank his election ambitions, if those aspirations weren't already six feet under.
He couldn't have been too close or the horses would have smelled him.
He couldn't help feeling angry with the goddess who set this all up or escape the emotion he felt knowing his mate was the woman he'd loved for thousands of years.
He couldn't possibly know or understand, but he seemed to sense something was wrong between them.
He didn't do or say anything bad.
He didn't give her the reassurance she sought about whether or not they had a real future together, and she brokered a deal with the Dark One in a desperate attempt to ensure she had a chance with Gabriel.
He didn't have to love her or live with her or even talk to her.
He didn't know how to shake off that yoke or his anger.
He didn't know if it was because of Darkyn or because of being attacked by death dealers that defected.
He didn't know what that meant or even if it was a possibility that she would one day trust him enough to tell him what was burdening her.
He didn't know why they broke in the first place or how to fix them if it happened again.
He doubted his night – or his next few thousand years – was going to get any better than this.
He expected her to push him away and slap him, and he was prepared to leave and remain furious at her for the next week or two.
He flung one of his knives at the tree line, not caring if he hit anything or not.
He had almost been kind, or at least, as kind as he was capable of being.
He had no idea of the depth of the gorge or the length of the rope, but he prayed it was sufficient.
He hadn't been attacked by anything remotely human or animal.
He hadn't thought about a sitter before now, or hadn't thought about how much he would pay?
He half-expected Darkyn to snap or scream at her.
He handled weapons as if they were extensions of his body, never dropping them or misplacing a strike.
He kept writing all one summer—ten or twelve letters.
He leaves no room for failure or my hope that certain things will change, she said.
He leaves no room for failure or my hope that certain things will change.
He liked trying to get a rise out of her, and he really did want to know where they stood in her mind and whether or not he had to worry about her running off to make more deals with Darkyn.
He made no move to bite her or kiss her, simply studied her, his thumb stroking the pulse in her neck.
He never expected to see the blue sky again or the trees around the fortress, let alone sip sweet tea and nibble on berry scones.
He pushed forward, feeling stirred, but not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say.
He shared some of his power or whatever your deities do.
He should have no trouble figuring out where he lived, worked or what his telephone number was.
He thinks its weaponry or something.
He took her arm with one of the hands that had explored every part of her body – or the body he thought was hers - not even a few hours before.
He was around Ouray for ten years or so.
He was unconscious – or dead? – while she stood on a beach near blue-green depths so clear, she could see the white sand at the bottom of the water.
He wasn't about to lose her or the chance to build a life with the woman he'd loved for tens of thousands of years.
He wasn't as forgiving of himself or his mate.
He wasn't sure if she had seen it, too, or she was afraid he was returning to the road without her.
He wiped his prints and replaced it, wondering if Joseph or Ginger Dawkins was responsible for the gunshot at the mine.
He'd cave to Andre's advice and double-check with Darkyn about whether or not his mate owed the Dark One anything – formally or informally.
He'd never been guilty in his role as an assassin or as Death, until sitting with her on the beach.
He'll be back in twenty minutes or so.
He's an adult, or nearly so.
He's my husband, for better or for worse.
He's never out more than ten to twenty minutes at a time and three or four sessions make a heavy day.
He's out to get you, or to use me to do it, or get both of us.
Her first thought was that he was sending her to Death as a means of torturing her or at least, nailing home the point that he had won this round with Gabriel.
Her gums were irritated, reminding her she hadn't eaten or drunk water in a while.
Her heart was breaking again or maybe, her hope crumbling.
Hey, you're a witness and I want your statement, whether you like it or not!
I always knew when she wished me to bring her something, and I would run upstairs or anywhere else she indicated.
I can spend time researching it or I can try to duplicate.
I can't read her mind or find all the deals in the Oracle.
I can't see any of the girls running the ranch... or wanting to, for that matter.
I can't see where there's near enough evidence to nail Fitzgerald over Billy's death, or that there ever will be.
I can't tell you to break or keep promises, but I can sense you want to talk about this problem.
I didn't plan it or nothing.
I do not wish them well or happy.
I don't even know the decade the guy died, much less who he was or who might be connected to him.
I don't expect them or anyone else to make deals with you for me, she said, hurt as much by his words as the thought that there was no one outside of Hell who wished her well.
I don't know how many times or how many ways I can say I'm sorry.
I don't know if he drove it or why he would have it.
I don't know if he is actually trying to hide things, or simply doesn't know how to initiate the subject.
I don't know if this is a message or something else.
I don't know why she didn't ask for it before - or why she didn't tell me about the baby.
I don't like either the one or the other.
I don't suppose you will find a need to raise him or Kris as you did me.
I don't suppose you'll put in a good - or bad - word for me.
I don't want to see you hurt here or killed.
I don't want to spoil them - or anyone else to spoil them.
I don't want you to love me out of guilt or pity.
I figured that if Giddon was using a pseudonym, he would have to either do his banking with his own name or fill out some kind of paperwork to do business under another name.
I gave her a week to make Gabriel fall in love with her, or I get her soul.
I guess he was 'high profile'— king of the clan or some nonsense like that.
I had to make a choice without knowing what would happen or even if you would be there for me in the morning.
I just don't know who or how or why they were taken.
I knew one way or another the bones would be made public.
I like staying in a house, or a bed and breakfast—places where you meet people.
I loved you from the day we met, and it had nothing to do with guilt or pity.
I make the predictions in this book not to be sensational or controversial.
I might have a stroke or a million other things.
I might have pulled your leg a time or two, but we've got along pretty good over the years keeping stuff to ourselves.
I need everything I can get in a week or two.
I realized then you'd never understand or accept me for who I was.
I suppose Paul recognized my name, either before or soon after we first met, back when I was a teenager.
I think there's a good chance it was either her or Fitzgerald.
I was kind of scared they might shoot us or something, but nothing bad happened.
I was thinking about you then, not Alex or Destiny.
I won't let you think there's a chance this isn't real or permanent.
I wonder if that shot, or whatever it was, came from the owner of that blue sweater on his Jeep seat?
I would never stop you from going to college or doing anything else you wanted to do.
I'd better get cracking on that, knock on doors or something.
I'd say you have few choices; get protection, get a gun or head for the hills.
I'd use the wrong towel or leave a dish out, and then you'd be threatening to kill me again.
I'll be in town in a day or two.
I'm surprised Ed's newspaper ad didn't say, 'Dead or Alive!'
I've been all over and most of it looks the same from a bus or a bar.
If anything weird happens, please walk or run away or call the police or something.
If this here skull wasn't broken, maybe someone would think it was the real McCoy—at least in the dark or from a distance.
If you don't want to forgive me or can't, I understand, she started.
If you leave, you won't stay away long or go far.
If you try to alert anyone or escape, I'll peel your skin from your bodies and watch you scream, Harmony warned.
If you win or lose, let it be on purpose.
If you're going to return to chasing bad guys, you'd better think about getting in shape or you won't be catching any of them.
In addition to the five we bought, there were five or six—maybe seven more.
In addition to the native deer, the Elk or buffalo could have eaten the grain.
In any case, the vow was for better or for worse.
In fact, she glowed with health, even if she seemed shy or nervous.
In only about five or ten minutes, the mare was groaning and lying on her side, pushing hard.
In the eyes of the Deans, it was looking more and more as if person or persons unknown did in fact take the original bones and switch them for the theatrical imitations Fitzgerald dragged out of The Lucky Pup mine.
In the meantime, killing dealers he used to consider colleagues or allies weighed heavily on his emotions at a time when he needed to think clearly.
Is she a friend of the family or just someone you're humping on the side?
Is the bus bringing him, or do you have to go get him?
It didn't create trust or affection or hope or love.
It didn't make sense that nothing could save the girl, or that Darkyn was capable of trying to.
It doesn't matter what color your hair is or what Darkyn did to you.
It doesn't smell as if it was cleaned or preserved.
It had nothing to do with you or how I felt.
It looks like a hole in the ground that hasn't been touched in thirty years or more.
It makes me feel small when you keep things from me - like you don't trust me, or you think I'm not mature enough to handle it.
It was a far cry from the woman who ran away screaming from the soul she accidentally touched last week or the goddess who would've commanded him rather than risk getting her hands dirty.
It was a week or so before his car was found.
It was a young man's—or woman's—game, although Dean doubted he'd have joined the contest, at least not willingly, even in his careless years.
It was either an original or an excellent copy, signed by Andy Gordon.
It was frustrating to work with someone who didn't try, but if it had not been for him trying to rescue her, she might be the one on that bed – or in the morgue.
It was hard to say whether she would visit Alex, or whether he would even know who she was.
It was hard to tell if the visitor was unwelcome, as he always maintained a professional tone when talking to customers or strangers.
It was hard to tell whether she would go through with contesting the will, or if she even could after so long.
It was parked in the driveway of the neighboring lot, where she'd seen no lights or activity all weekend.
It was the wrong thing to say— or do—to Cynthia Dean.
It was unclear if this action was prompted by Patsy Boyd herself or just some do-gooder trying to clear her desk of problems.
It'll make or break him, and I don't feel like he's anywhere near ready.
It's hard to say there's no connection with the bones until we're sure there is a third Dawkins, who he or she is, and what the suit is all about.
It's nice any time we're together – with or without the kids.
It's private land, not national forest or park lands, and even though you or the Dawkinses own all this, it's not posted, except for the mine tunnel.
It's the heart of the season and still early enough to hitch a ride with a Jeep tour or a tourist.
It's your decision whether or not you want to stay with me.
Just because it upsets me doesn't mean I don't want to know - or that you shouldn't tell me.
Later that evening while they were alone, Carmen and Alex decided that the next time Lori came by or called, Carmen would talk to her and tell her that the option to take Destiny back had passed.
Let's go get a hamburger or something.
Life was so different than she had planned or expected, and yet, it was so much better.
Like it or not, he'd best get cracking.
Logan or …Wynn, if I wasn't with Logan this weekend …Dammit.
Long pants or grubby clothes weren't necessary, as Dean had no intention of entering the mine.
Lydia was not as tall as Jennifer Radisson, but only by an inch or two.
Ma thought mammograms were for old ladies or women with big boobs.
Marriage was supposed to cool that passion, or so they said.
Maybe - or by splitting us up.
Maybe 'metalman' is some sheet metal worker or some heavy metal rocker.
Maybe it was macho or part of the control thing.
Maybe she should instruct or remind him, but the thought of it seemed so unnatural.
Maybe she'll learn a thing or two about being human.
Maybe something to do with her mother—like her mother mistreats her or beats her?
Maybe there's a backdoor or someone she knows in Hell who can help you.
Maybe this man had a seedy past – or present, life.
Mertz said she told him she didn't know who Yancey was or what he did.
Mostly meant the old man was in jail again, or they was looking to find him and put him there.
My batteries are low-- think I can Travel in an hour or so.
My grandparents didn't stay long—a year or two—and then they moved to Denver.
My guess is it came from a finger or toe.
No deity or Immortal or living human ever welcomed or accepted Death, but the souls always had.
No one attacked her or told her to stop.
No one knows where the hell he is, or what he's plotting.
No part of her wanted to reveal what Gabriel told her or that she meant it when she said she would find a way to help him.
No part of his stance or piercing look was welcoming and yet, she felt the urge to cross to him.
No, but sometimes I don't see him for a week or more.
No, she didn't remember who'd called or even if they left a name.
Nobody knows where the man is and even if he's been in there a long, long time, someone must care about him, or at least maybe did back then, when it happened.
None of the five fought him or made excuses.
Normal kids didn't ask about the underworld or being human.
Not at all like Darkyn was bleeding her dry or torturing her.
Not the abbreviated version contrived for a witless or hysterical wife, but the whole thing – including any designs Lori has on you... or you have for her.
Nothing can get in or out.
Now, if you're acting sheriff or whatever the hell your position is, it's your damned job to follow through.
Of course, Katie wouldn't know about the way he stroked her cheek or brushed her lips with his in such a tantalizing way.
One does not dress or act like a lady.
One of Mrs. Worthington's friends taped the debate and Fred and Cynthia listened to it while Dean nursed his ego, and an ale or two, on the front porch.
Only two or three people ever see your file, Ileana added.
Or are you just tormenting me for the fun of it?
Or checking with the Oracle.
Or did he come back to Ouray and do something about it?
Or did they cross over from the underworld?
Or have you changed your mind about leaving tomorrow?
Or he was already a step ahead.
Or I'll never leave Hell.
Or is it somehow different when she's his wife?
Or make love to her again.
Or maybe explain why you didn't even tell me before seeking him out?
Or maybe it goes back to your junior prom.
Or maybe it's just because daddy didn't ask their permission first.
Or maybe peeling your skin off?
Or maybe she just wants to prove to herself someone actually loves her enough and cares about her enough to punish her.
Or maybe they didn't care.
Or maybe you all should consider making instruction manuals before dumping your duties and walking away.
Or maybe, he planned on coming back for her tonight.
Or maybe, he wanted to get rid of his own regret at the idea of taking such a sweet soul, someone who might've been a kindred spirit in a different time and place.
Or maybe, incomplete is a better word.
Or maybe, like he really had loved her through the millennia they were together.
Or might have happened, if things broke bad.
Or paint her face blue, Gabriel added.
Or perhaps the theater props were kept somewhere just before the auction— after they were hauled out of the storage quarters.
Or risk that there was something else going on that would drive his mate back to Darkyn for whatever reason.
Or that she bore them no ill will.
Or they'd have razed the whole mall.
Or was Brandon the one with the problem?
Or was it a nightmare only?
Or was it the other way around?
Or what exactly his mate had done.
Or whatever, she paused, as if waiting for his response, before continuing.
Or whoever's ass ends up owning the mine, Dean thought, but he simply waved away the apology.
Or why they were here in the first place, as they expressed zero interest in the beauty of the area; Ouray's main attraction.
Or worse, staying with her for eternity but hating her.
Or, I'm alive and about to be dead.
Or, maybe it was the thing with his father.
Or, more intriguingly, perhaps one of the auction's bargain foot lockers contained the remains of the actual skeleton!
Or, papa got an answer to his newspaper ad and saved a shotgun shell by doing the bashing himself.
Or, sweet Edith wasn't so sweet and bashed Josh's head in and left him in the mine.
Or, you know, just a quickie in the moonlight.
Ordinarily she would have thumped him on top of the head or yelled, but fearful of offending a customer, she tolerated his invasion of her space.
Perhaps the body is much younger—only ten or twenty or thirty years old.
Perhaps when she lost her soul at the end of the week or maybe, if she could help him recover his underworld, she'd tell Gabriel then.
Physically, he was improving, but not in the conversation or response area.
Please record this or listen carefully.
Please stop me if I become redundant or boorish.
Probably not or he would have used it.
Pumpkin and the Westlake fellow are over with Mrs. Langstrom, or at the funeral home.
Rather than taking souls and risking a run-in with him or his dealers, the demons snatched the dead or killed whomever they wanted and brought them here, where they'd have more time for soul extraction.
Reluctant or not, his body heat was welcome.
Right or wrong, the decision had been made.
She acts more sorry for the woman, or exasperated, than afraid of her.
She couldn't change anything that happened or make things right.
She couldn't tell them apart yet and looked around to determine if this courtyard was the one near the medieval cafeteria or not.
She didn't know how he could love her still after all she'd done or why he was willing to try to make things work.
She didn't like seeing someone else suffer the way she did every time she thought of Cody or Jake or others dying.
She didn't move away or object when he allowed his palms to skim her curves, tracing down her sides to her hips then around to her tight bottom.
She didn't remember his passion, the way he tasted and smelled and felt, or the movement of his muscles beneath taut, smooth skin.
She didn't see Jared, but she couldn't shake the sense he – or someone else – was following her.
She didn't wait to see if he stayed or went but walked out of her room.
She didn't want to talk whilst I was there, figuring maybe the line was tapped or something.
She had always been a recluse at heart, often declining a social outing with her friends so that she could be alone with a book or her writing.
She had no idea if Darkyn sought her out when she was upset because he thought she might be in danger or because he was concerned about her being with her ex.
She had no phone, no way of contacting Dusty or Jenn or Darian.
She had no such experience or excuse.
She had some money tucked away in a cookie jar in the kitchen and she intended to pay him something, whether he liked it or not.
She had to be, or he wouldn't have been able to assume her role as Death.
She hadn't judged him or restrained him.
She hadn't planned on jumping off her building, but the events of this night made the idea more appealing than having her head severed from her body or ending up a pile of bones in a bathtub.
She held her breath, wondering if he meant to respond or not.
She held no sway in what happened or played no larger part in their twisted doings.
She listened, not wanting to cry or acknowledge the level of pain she put him through for so long.
She may be a first class bitch—but if there isn't a legal custody fight or the child isn't reported in danger or grossly neglected, it's none of our business.
She mourned the loss of all she'd ever learned or known.
She must at least think she has or surely she wouldn't have shown up after all this time and started a fuss about something that we all settled long time ago.
She never mentioned Lori or the man who had stabbed him – or anything else unpleasant.
She recalled no emotions, though, to indicate if that exchange was good or bad.
She said her mother or someone took her calling card but she didn't explain.
She seemed to consider whether or not to answer.
She shivered, not wanting to imagine what Darkyn was capable of or how hard it might be to outmaneuver him to leave Hell.
She shook her head and focused on her phone again, willing Logan to return one of her dozens of calls or texts.
She stared after him as he drove away, wondering if he would be home for supper – or if he was going to eat alone.
She struggled to recall what her real mother looked like or the day she became Death or even the day she met Gabriel.
She touched a branch gingerly, uncertain if the trees here were sensitive to touch or not.
She was nearly as tall as he, a natural blonde or the customer of a very good beautician.
She wasn't expecting his gentleness or the level of his interest in exploring her body, a combination that rendered her breathless before her clothes were off.
She wondered if it was because of the thought of her seducing someone else or because of her triumph at winning his affection, even if he beat her at every other thing.
She'd been incapable of empathy or remorse.
She'd been on the verge of dying, discussing how her impending death forced her to decide whether she wanted to live or mourn.
She'd challenged Gabriel's new mate to win him over in one week, or one of them lost their souls.
She'd never before been able to tell when someone lied to her or when they were manipulating her.
She'd show him she wasn't afraid to back down in bed or anywhere else.
She'd worn either sandals or tennis shoes.
Shock or maybe fear put the words in her mouth when the woman answered.
Since they still didn't know why he attacked her or Alex, they considered it possible that he might return.
So far, except for stomach growls an hour or so before mealtime, Dean wasn't complaining.
So what do you say, yes or no?
Some hacker might be able to, or the FBI maybe.
Someone needs to have the final say or some decisions could go on and on.
Something about him made her feel comfortable, or she wouldn't be sitting alone with a man dressed like the angel of death on the beach after dark, revealing secrets she didn't tell her boyfriend of two years.
Something as simple as calling her sweetheart or pointing out her many attributes could put her in a romantic mood.
Sometimes he would take care of the whole flock while the shepherd was resting or eating his dinner.
Sprinkled in the assortment of oldies were a few exceptions—two couples both named Dawkins, and Pumpkin Green, a young man taking a break from his cross country hike to California in support of the homeless, or so he claimed.
Surprised, she sought some sign he was testing her or baiting her again.
Take pictures or something.
Tell me what you want or just leave me alone!
That or Dean's announcement about running his fingerprints.
The birds were silent, watching her to see if she was friend or foe.
The couple was hoping to get on the road ahead of one or more of the feuding Dawkinses, who might be moseying to the same destination.
The demons can't access it, but an Immortal or dealer who goes through Hell can.
The doctor said they could find no reason for him to stay in a coma, except the possibility of brain damage from lack of oxygen or blood loss.
The goddess never appreciated anything around her, or anyone.
The human named Deidre had to have it with her, a trinket or piece of jewelry with sentimental value that she never took off.
The idea of making love in a strange bedroom was disturbing enough, but with only a door between them and the children, locked or not, it didn't feel right.
The idea that Brandon felt relieved wasn't all that flattering - or comforting, for that matter.
The Lucky Pup is one of a dozen or so digs scattered around his property up in Governor's Basin.
The nurse thought his larynx might still be irritated from the endotracheal or feeding tube.
The only thing I didn't count on was Darkyn giving me the choice of my power or Gabriel when I left Hell.
The overload of emotions, the inability to read Gabriel's mind to find out what he thought, so she knew what to say or do.
The pain she was in or the situation where she might lose her soul in three days.
The problem wasn't Dulce or his father.
The rest he had built in investments – other than what was in the special savings account drawing interest until he could decide whether to return it or accept the responsibility that went with it.
The runners might encounter any kind of weather, including freezing temperatures, fog, rain, or snow.
The sky was given the status of something pure and clean, the earth sort of a dirty wasteland, and anything below water level or the ground considered Hellish.
The State of Colorado sent me over, seeing as there's no experienced under-sheriff or deputy.
The top of the buggy caught the air like a parachute or an umbrella filled with wind, and held them back so that they floated downward with a gentle motion that was not so very disagreeable to bear.
The top was still off, allowing additional room, but he still felt three or four trips lay ahead.
The trail was narrow enough that she found herself running into his frame or leaning against him.
The voice echoed from somewhere to the left, or was it the right?
The warmth of the evening chased out Bird Song's guests—all non-dieters probably queuing up for ice cream, or maybe simply promenading the Victorian village streets as alpenglow painted the surrounding peaks in pink.
The woman listened patiently, or so Dean assumed by her silence.
The WWW news was either negative or tardy because each took turns bickering at the other until Dean was ready to toss the entire family.
Then he would have appointed her executor or something.
There are no locks on the doors or windows, and only one route of egress in the case of an emergency.
There was a sheriff's vehicle parked out front, but Dean wasn't sure if it belonged to Fitzgerald or Lydia.
There was no reason why he couldn't do the finances or make the normal decisions.
There was no room for mistakes or hesitation.
There was no sign of Fitzgerald, Lydia Larkin, the jailer, or Fred O'Connor.
There was nothing they could say or do about Martha's situation except to keep their telephone nearby and pray for the best.
There was polite applause, a little less then followed Fitzgerald's words, or so thought Dean.
There were too many emotions for her to identify them, but one of them – or all of them? – caused the tears.
There, amid a cluster of floats, Boy Scouts and ballerinas, four of Fred's lady friends were in the final stages of hanging bunting about a beautiful old touring car whose vintage or name Dean couldn't identify.
These soldiers guarded the streets of the town; they would not let any one go out or come in without their leave.
They could've both gone somewhere else entirely, wherever they wanted to go, without the underworld crumbling or the pain Gabriel was in.
They knew there was little more they could do or say to console the lonely child.
They made me wait an hour or so knowing what was coming.
They might still want to ask me a question or two.
They sat there and pretended to agree, or at least consider the alternatives and ramifications as presented.
They think Patsy Boyd stashed the kid with a relative or a buddy and the girl's okay.
They were only here four or five years in the late fifties, Charlie said.
They've brought things to such a pass that there are no carts or anything!...
This felt like another of his tests or maybe, his way of closing another door.
This place, him, her situation – they couldn't be, or she was going to go insane.
This time, there was no mistaking the weapons lining his trench coat or the sword along one thigh.
To move, or even breathe, would have destroyed the moment.
Two or three times we stopped to rest under a tree by the wayside.
Unable to look at him or control the tears starting to form, Deidre walked away.
Uncertain if she understood him or not, Deidre studied him.
Unless you're using magic on her, there's no way any woman – Immortal, deity or human – would ever choose to stay with you.
Unlike Logan, this man wouldn't hesitate or complain about holding her on the days when the pain was too much.
Waiting for him to snap or yell as he had when she arrived to Hell, she touched him timidly with her other hand to begin exploring the ridges of the scars on his chest.
Was he an admirer, as Alex thought, or was he paid to make it look like they were involved?
Was he offended or surprised?
Was it bloated, or did he look like he was taking a nap?
Was that something new, or had he been that way all along – even before he opened his eyes?
We lived a long way from any school for the blind or the deaf, and it seemed unlikely that any one would come to such an out-of-the-way place as Tuscumbia to teach a child who was both deaf and blind.
We may stay there a night or two.
We'd better go in the back way or Mom will have my hide.
We'll be back in an hour or two.
We're not talking about cats, or Fred.
Well, whatever it is, it probably won't go down too well with Howard or Len.
Were his comments genuine, or simply a way to get her to like him?
What do you do at age thirty, or, if you're lucky, forty?
What does all that nonsense have to do with vodka or Billy Langstrom?
What else did he know or suspect?
What have they done for Louis XVII, for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth?
Whatever happens with my mate, happens if or when it does.
Whatever secret she kept, it couldn't change this moment or what he felt.
When the meal ended and the dishes were put to bed, the three withdrew to the parlor, now empty of guests who were either dining uptown or waiting in line to do so.
When the phone rang for the fourth time, Dean assumed it was either a call for reservations or more discussion on the upcoming New Jersey wedding plans, but Cynthia held the phone against herself and called to her husband.
When you touch someone, you feel nothing, not the warmth of their skin or the smoothness.
Whenever anything delighted or interested me she talked it over with me just as if she were a little girl herself.
Whenever she felt overwhelmed from her oncoming death or the doctors' news, she ran to her room until she was strong enough to face the world again.
Whether he believed it or not, Lori was a threat to their relationship.
Whether he was trying to escape or attack Alex was unclear, but Alex reached the door at the same time the man did.
Whether it was Pumpkin's advice or the sunny day, Cynthia's mood lightened as they drove.
Whether it was something she actually needed or something she contrived to make him feel needed was irrelevant.
Whether it was wedding plans, baby names, or ways to kill her son, Dean didn't know.
Whether or not you take my deal, I'll help her.
Whether that desire was conveyed by him or originated in her head was a mystery, but when he drew her into his arms, she was willing.
Whether there was someone else in her life at this point or she was alone was a mystery.
Whether things in the future stay the same as they are today or change from what they are today, both are understood in terms of the current reality.
While Dean was fully exonerated from any wrongdoing in the unfortunate affair, either Fitzgerald failed to agree with the determination or simply despised being judged wrong.
While Pumpkin Green was not at this week's mass, or probably any other service within miles of Ouray, Billy Langstrom's partner in love Melissa attended.
While safety is closely monitored, the challenge is not for the untrained or naive.
Who is asking, Andy Gordon or Yancey Giddon?
Whoever owned the soul, he or she was important to find their way to Death's jewelry box.
Why do I have the feeling the place is haunted or something?
Why not one of his sisters or brothers – or his parents?
Why, they're better than piglets--or even milk!
With the DNA you could tell whose finger it was, if you happened to have the rest of the guy's body or a few squirts of his liquids.
With the exception of the trail, of course, but he never appeared to be in any hurry – coming or going there.
Without a pump or two spares, they accomplished the same thing.
Without her power, she wasn't able to sense him or the danger he posed.
Would revealing your secret to him make him pity you or drive him away?
Would she spend the rest of her life traveling back and forth from a hospital or nursing home?
Would you like some coffee or something?
Wynn wasn't about to ask why it was secret or spend too much time in Hell with the violent creature before him.
Yeah. No word yet on whether or not there are more.
Yes. I plan on moving in a month or so.
Yet he still couldn't control his facial muscles or speak.
You act like you've been shut out of your underworld or your mate made a deal with Darkyn and turned into someone else.
You are a deity without a domain or source of power, which means you have nothing I could possibly want, Darkyn said.
You can't understand that or how I feel.
You had no trouble ripping him from me or me from my own life.
You win your battles or they destroy you!
You won't fail the underworld or her.
You'll look around when you get a search warrant, or hell freezes over—whichever comes first!
You're a human mate, or were originally, which means I can't hurt you.
You're always helping me out one way or another.
You're going to have a little brother or sister.