Mary Heron

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Roarke studied the ID shot, sipped more coffee. Said, “Hmm.” “What?” Instantly, she swung around, eyes narrowed and focused. “What kind of hmm was that? That was a, you know, some kind of hmm.” “Obviously, I’ll need to guard my hmms in the future.” Eve drilled a finger into Roarke’s chest. “You know this guy?”
Leverage in Death (In Death, #47)
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