Twelve (The Naturals, #4.5)
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Read between January 25 - January 25, 2025
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Dean and I had been together since we were teenagers, and Michael had taken great joy in singing the same song nearly the whole time.
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person cannot, by definition, defuse a bomb unless it’s operational to begin with.”
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“I’m not going to tell the two of you to get a room,” Michael announced, “because that is geographically impossible. So instead, I will suggest, quite delicately, that the two of you get a metaphorical room.”
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“the worst part of your week was clearly losing a bet and being forced to carry a man-purse to training activities for forty-eight hours.”
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Dean wasn’t much of a sharer—not with anyone but me. Then again, these days, I wasn’t much of a sharer, either.
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When I was twelve years old, my mother had been deemed missing, presumed dead. When Dean was twelve, he’d betrayed his serial killer father, resulting in Daniel Redding’s arrest and the creation of the Naturals program.
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“Aren’t you a little young to be FBI?” The officer who managed to look Celine in the eye and say those words would probably soon regret it.
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Celine smiles sweetly. “Why would I be interested in boys,” she asks the table innocently, “when there are girls?”
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He took everything away from you. He locked you up. He hurt you. You danced.
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“You won’t ever be normal, Mackenzie, but you’ll be okay.” “Personally,” Lia commented, “I find normal overrated.”
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“You do your jobs,” she promised, “you find Kelley’s killer—and I’ll come down.”
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abdomen. Scars—small, deliberate half-moons—had stretched from one of Kelley’s hip bones to the next, too low to show unless she was naked.
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“You with the righteously indignant, yet distinctly guilty expression on your face! Hands in the air!”
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I leaned back against Dean, and Lia leaned against me before we all chorused in unison, “Aye.”