“Fucking pyromanic, Crazier'n a male crab, that one.”

“I'm like the fucking Three Stooges of espionage. All three of 'em. All rolled into one!”

“Stop thumping me, you fuck!”

“Yeah well, sorry I 'fucked' at you”

“It's not a bomb, you ignorant fuck! It's a grenade!”

“Fuck,” Zane murmured, pulling Ty closer. “You’re worse than heroin.”

“How can you approve of them? Does it not bother you that your son, your only son, the very last male to carry the Garrett name, goes home from work every night to another man? That doesn’t offend your sensibilities?” “Not one bit,” Harrison said. He picked up his newspaper again. “At least he looks forward to going home.”