“Millie ran back and forth, first jumping on Diego, then Henry, then Diego. "Arff!" she said, which means "let's help" in the way dogs talk.”

“But my friend IS the sea, Mr. Diego. He has been my friend since I was very young, my only friend, and I can't bear to hear him crying. he's lonely. I came here to keep him company.""Boy, the sea is not your friend, especially not today." "Excuse me, Mr. Diego, but I think you are wrong. He is my friend, he says good morning to me every day.”

“It was like talking to Diego had cleared my head. For the first time in three months, blood was not the main thing in there.”

“The more credit you give away, the more will come back to you. The more you help others, the more they will want to help you.”

“I didn't move. I've learned from years of experience that dogs and falcons and ladies come back to you if you stay where you are.”

“It's a dog eat dog world.”

“Watching him, his hands buried in his pockets—to keep from circling her neck she supposed—she couldn't help but marvel at the curious mix of Southern courtesy and male arrogance, the natural assumption he shouldered of being lawfully in control. "Engaging in a moral battle isn't always hazardous to one's health, you know.""Doesn't look like it's doing wonders for yours.""Saints be praised, it can actually be rewarding."Looking over his shoulder, he halted in the middle of the room. "Irish.""I beg your pardon?""You. Irish. The green eyes, the tiny bit of red in your hair. Is Connor your real name?""Yes, why..." she said, stammering. Bloody hell. "Of course.""Liar."She felt the slow, hot roll of color cross her cheeks. "What could that possibly have to do with anything?""I don't know, but I have a feeling it means something. It's the first I've heard come out of that sassy mouth of yours that didn't sound like some damned speech." He tapped his head, starting to pace again. "What I wonder is, where are you in there?”