“Cops before breakfast. Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.”

“...Jake, a homosexual cop buried so deep in the closet he didn't know where to look for himself.”

“Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.”

“Rick said, "Is there some place we can go and talk?""You want to talk?," Keir raised an eyebrow. "I never thought I'd see the day.""Nah, I want to tell you this joke I heard."Keir nodded, patient. "Shoot.""Two Irish cops walk into a bar. The first cop says..." Rick's voice dropped. He said gruffly, "I love you. Come home."Keir managed to keep his voice steady. "What's the other cop say?"The sweetness of Rick's smile was like a kick in his chest. "That's what I'm here to find out, boyo.”

“I love you," Jake whispered. "Are you strong enough for this?"I made myself comfortable. Said over my shoulder, "Sure.""Would you tell me if you weren't?"I grinned. "Maybe. I can't think of a nicer way to commit suicide.""That's good. I can't think of a more pleasant way to commit murder.”

“It was nearly five before Jake walked in. He was sunburnt, wet, and smelled faintly of fish. Sexy as hell. Don’t ask me to explain.”

“Guy was saying, “What the hell is it about you that attracts murder and mayhem?""Something in my body language?"He groaned. “That was bad—even for you.”