“Hi. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. I told you that at the outset. Ramage!” she began, and his mouth sealed hers and his breath was mixed with her breath. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage.
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