“Tell me Jesse, does she sigh when you kiss her too”

“Jesse, this is Craig. Craig, Jesse. You two should get along. Jesse's dead,too.”

“These were things she hadn't felt wile being kissed in a long, long time. Exciting things. Especially when he lowered his head to kiss her again, this time on the throat. That's when she felt that her heart might burst from happiness.”

“Kill her for me," she said in that whiny little-girl voice.Diego took a step toward me, wearing an expression that told me he was only too happy to oblige his lady love."Oh, what?" I said. I wasn't even scared. I didn't care anymore. The numbness in my heart had pretty much taken over my whole body. "You always do what she tells you? You know, we have a word for that now. It's called being whipped.”

“You know," I said, holding my ground. "I gotta tell you. The goatee thing? Yeah, way over. And you know a little jewelry really does go a long way. Just something you might want to consider. I'm actually glad you stopped by, because I have a couple things I've been meaning to say to you. Number one,about your wife? Yeah, she's a skank. And number two, you know that whole thing where you killed Jesse and then buried his remains out back there? Yeah, way un-cool.”

“Well, I guess slave-runners aren't really my cup of tea. That is who you married instead, right? A slave-runner. Your father must have been so proud."That wiped the grin right off her face."You leave my father out of this," she snarled."Oh, why?" I asked. "Tell me something, is he sore at you? Your dad, I mean. You know, for having Jesse killed? Because I imagine he would be. I mean, basically, thanks to you, the de Silva family line ran out. And your kids with that Diego dude turned out to be, as we've already discussed, major losers. I bet whenever you run into your dad out there, you know, on the spiritual plane, he doesn't even say hi anymore, does he? That's gotta hurt."I'm not sure how much of that, if any, Maria actually understood. Still, she seemed plenty mad.”

“I can't even tell you how good it felt to see him. It felt even better when he reached through the metal grate, wrapped his fingers around the front of my shirt, dragged me forward, and kissed me through the bars. "Sorry" he said-only not looking to sorry, if you know what I mean.”