“Ira,” Larkin interrupted, and his voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears. “I haven’t been able to sleep for weeks. It’s not because of the Prozac. It’s because I’m waiting for that sonofabitch to walk through our front door so I can put a bullet in his brain. I would kill for you.” Doyle didn’t move, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Adam Worth will never make me doubt the love of my life.”
