Hans (Alliance, #4)

by S.J. Tilly

setting the container on the worn welcome mat in front of my door. It doesn’t actually say welcome. But it does have a sheet of carefully crafted explosives woven into the inner layer of the mat, so there’s that.

The town we live in isn’t tiny, but it’s small enough and just far away enough from the bigger suburbs that the different taxi services rarely run here, and there is no public transportation. Which is good, because if I witnessed her getting into the back of a stranger’s car, I’d have my sniper rifle out and aimed at the back of the driver’s head before you could say psychotic.

Seasoned travelers have their packing down to a science. Three changes of clothes. Minimal toiletries. A laptop containing four throwing knives.

For a year, I’ve been dreaming of what it would be like to have his attention. And it turns out I have all of it. Now I can’t settle for anything less.