Anthony Coburn

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Then suddenly he shook his head, so violently that she thought he might have been having an attack of dysreflexia. “No!” he whispered. She’d expected playful, she’d expected passionate, at worst a flirtatious Oh-oh, not a good idea . . . But he sounded weak. The hollow sound of his voice cut into her soul.
The Coffin Dancer (Lincoln Rhyme, #2)
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