“Sam Roth, you bastard," Cole said. There was admiration in his voice, which probably meant I'd made a poor decision.”

“Poor bastards," Cole said, his gaze still on the stars. "They must get pretty tired of watching us make the same damn mistakes all the time.”

“I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. "For crying out loud," he said. "It's a racoon." "Poor thing," I said. "It could be a rabid baby-killer," Cole told me primly. "Shut up," Sam said pleasantly.”

“I loved you so much right then Sam Roth.”

“Cole," I breathed, "what have you done to yourself?"The wolf's head jerked back toward its shoulders, again and again. Cole sang from the speakers, his voice slow and uncertain against a sparse backing of just piano, a different Cole than I'd ever heard:If I am Hannibalwhere are my Alps?”

“Apologize to the lady,” Blake’s voice was smooth, calm, and deadly. He’d also unleashed his bright green eyes on the poor bastard, who looked like he might wet his pants.”