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Just one Line.

The thumb dug in. Her blood beat futilely against the narrowing walls of its fragile channel. His wet blue eyes merged into the dying yellow blur of the Moon above his shoulder.

The Moon went out.
 
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Squirming into an upright position without the use of her hands was surprisingly difficult. He hadn't bothered to belt her in. She found that discouraging.
 
'And I finally get to the end and he gives me my penance, I have to say five "Hail Marys" with his cock in my mouth.'
 
The two-lane asphalt road ahead wound upward between a steep, scrub-dotted rock face to Lauren's right and a drop-off cliff to the left. Stretches had no shoulder or guard rails. Where barriers did exist they were sometimes buckled or broken clear through from heavy impact. Jakob was taking them up the Ortega, probably headed toward Elsinore, the section once nicknamed Ricochet Alley.

At this time in the evening they weren't likely to so much as pass another car up here. It was an efficient place to dispose of someone without even going to the trouble of killing them first—the thousand-foot drop would take care of that.

It might be a while before the body was found. A longer wait for them to identify her.
 
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Fighting for her life in the dark on a mountain road with her hands lashed together wasn't as much like sparring on a gym mat on Thursday mornings with her trainer barking at her as she'd have wished.
 
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She opens the door and steps inside, gently pulling me in with her, kicking off her heels, and closing the door behind her. We stand in the vestibule, close and face-to-face. I am so unsure of this.
 
“With a name like ‘Hope,’ you should be an optimist.’”

“I’m an architect. My parents were optimists. They had Hope.”
 
He was throwing chaff. The improvised senselessness of the scheme was naively brilliant in its way; all the little things that wouldn't add up. They'd be thrown clear of the car. With her hands freed, it would take longer for investigators to work out who'd been driving.
 
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He caught her off-guard with that. She started to laugh, but something like a cross-circuit happened inside and she burst into tears.

"He's angry and he's suspicious, and if I'm honest he's right to be all that and worse. Christ, I've done so many wrong things at this point, I'm not sure I know how to do the next right thing."
 
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"I ams not having a havings a stroke!" Freja hissed angrily, stomping her foot. "This is how the speaking of English is done, you... you goose-smoocher!"

- Freja, mouthing off at a cop (Mike & Karen, chapter 43, 'The Battle of Dry Lips')
 
It was like watching elks lock horns on Animal Planet. Father and son had barely tolerated one another over the last few years. Lauren didn't suppose that her sleeping with Ethan helped matters.
 
"My name?" The air shimmered around her as Abigail gathered her will. "Is what you'll be screaming on your way to hell."
 
"JEN YOU ARE A DIRTY RAT YOU BITCH!" as Cheyenne stomps towards our table in full strident.
 
"Maybe it's the motion of the ocean, but good luck crossing the Atlantic in a paddleboat."
 
Were there naked cuties prowling the halls as guests were arising?
 
"He was looking back at her with that faraway look of stupidity and clarity all men got after orgasm."
 
My organ stirred as I heard her mention 'orthography' then 'blind stamped calfskin'.
 
She wished she had a sofa in here. With nothing but the sisal rug under her desk and two swivel chairs in the place, they'd have to do it on the slick mahogany floor. Ethan already had her so hot that it hardly mattered.
 
"...She imported this stud of a French chef to throw it in her ex's face, too, and she parades him around like a hunk of fine meat. He is, by the way."
 
"The Buddha said that change is never painful, it's only our resistance to change that hurts."

"That's a real big 'only.' Like saying that being hung by the neck from a gallows only hurts for a minute."

"Or three."

"I feel better. Good talk."
 
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