Christa Chapman

55%
Flag icon
‘Peabody.’ ‘Sir!’ Eve could see her white face, her startled eyes in the dim light of the crib. ‘On your feet, soldier. Media conference in fifteen. One Police Plaza.’ ‘Got it. Just let me slap myself around and wake up. I’m on my way.’ ‘Get there now. I’ll slap you around.’ ‘You sweet-talker.’
Visions in Death (In Death, #19)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview