" They walked to the doors, and she unlocked them. Before she could say anything, I began the show.

"Garrett! Oh, my God!" I rushed forward and threw my arms around him. "What happened? Who did this?"

"I was mugged."

"Do we say mugged in Albuquerque?"

He glared at me.

"I'm so sorry. I'll take you to the hospital."

Disappointment lined the guard's face. But it quickly transformed into confusion. "Wait, I thought you said your name was Reyes. Reyes Farrow."

After I gaped at him for an eternity, an eternity in which he struggled to conceal [a] mischievous grin, I turned back to her. "It is. It's Reyes Garrett Farrow. Not Reyes Alexander Farrow." I snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "That's another guy altogether."

She wrinkled her forehead in suspicion.

"Gotta go," I said, hurrying him along. "Have to get this man to a hospital for multiple stab wounds."

"He was stabbed?" she asked with a concerned gasp.

"Not yet, but the night is young. "

― Darynda Jones , The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson, #12)