“I think you enjoy messing with people.""That's a purely hypothetical supposition on your part," the bastard says.”

“Now there's a girl I don't want to mess with' — or at least, that's what I would think if I had a chronic fear of freakishly nice people.”

“I hope you nail the bastard.”So does he.”

“Welcome to Arizona, you bastard.”

“I wasn't a complete bastard. If she liked to think she saw good in me, if she wanted to take credit for it, I'd let her. She deserved that much.”

“You think you fucking know me? I'm an assassin. I kill people for a living. Good people, bad people, it makes no difference to me as long as I get paid." I spoke slowly, giving each word time to sink in. "And that girl you just sold out? She's the only thing in this world that makes me even remotely human.”

“That's not cruel. This is. You come here in the middle of the night, expecting me to be awake, and ask—no, demand—me to give you things that belong to me as much as they belong to you. Never mind what it does to me. Never mind that each time I see you, I wonder if I'll ever hold you in my arms again, or be able to touch you without you cringing away like I'm a monster. I think it's fair to ask if there's an 'us,' my dear, because I suspect you're trying to use me just now. Tell me that's not cruel, and I'll let you go.”