“Come with me," he said quietly and extended his hand."Nuh-uh." I shook my head, scooting in the opposite direction . "I don't think so, All American Hero.”

“And you don’t want to be involved with my people, Max. They’re the type to bleed you dry and leave your corpse to rot. When the reckoning comes”—I lifted my hand and made an arch, pointing across the room—”you’ll want to be way the f*ck over there. Do you feel me?”

“Stop a knife? You're serious.""As a heart attack.""You are something else."I couldn't tell if he was giving me a compliment or a veiled insult. "I try to be an individual. It's all the rage.”

“You know.” My voice was laced with sarcasm. “I love being reminded of just how f*cked up people find my company. One minute, I’m asked to be more loving and sweet. In fact, someone once told me it was downright adorable. But when I actually give the public what they want, they think I’m suffering from a chemical imbalance.”

“Rule number one that all girls must learn. If you’re told to lie down on the floor during a robbery or tostep inside a waiting car during a kidnapping, you’re not doing yourself any favors by cooperating. You’reessentially handing the bastards a loaded gun and giving them express permission to shoot you in the head.”

“I nodded in approval, turned around and opened the door, and stepped into the hall. I walked past the receptionist, smiling at her shocked face when she told me in a superficial voice to have a nice day, and I gave her a parting gift—my middle finger.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil, for that fine psychological assessment," I snapped and motioned my chin to Disco. "Why don't you and Oprah here go take a long walk off a short plank and do the world a favor?”