“Holy fuck, Jesus, shit, you’re Tatum Jackson”

“Chace shook his head, not at odds with how he felt about Tatum Jackson and Tyrell Walker, two of the biggest badasses he knew, demonstrating signs they were pussy whipped and didn’t give a shit.”

“Holy crap,” Mindy whispered.“Jesus Christ,” Brody muttered.“Oh my God,” I breathed.“What the fuck?” Max clipped.”

“Jesus, holy fuck,” Rivera murmured, coming to a quick halt and looking up at the tall, hulking, tattoo-sleeved Ryker. “Boy, what’d your Mama feed you growin’ up?” he asked. “Newborn babies,” Ryker answered, scowling down at Rivera.”

“Nope, it wasn’t an oh shit moment. It was an oh fuck moment.”

“Baby,” another voice came into my ear and this was my man’s, “shut the fuck up, concentrate and don’t sit there muttering into your tits makin’ it look like you’re waitin’ to fuck over some asshole. He sees you doin’ that shit, these guys we’re hunting will take you out and tonight is not my night to lose you.”

“Jesus, fuck, once we kill him, can I keep stabbing him?”