" I wish I didn’t know, absolutely, you sign papers of ours without the reading of them.”
“I give them a scan.” Sometimes. “If you fucked me over, I’m a cop. I know how to make you pay without letting it show. Like, the one where I tranq your wine, dress you in a diaper and pasties, get you in your office and transmit the image globally.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
“Just in my free time.” She gave his hands a squeeze before drawing hers away and laying them on his cheeks. “Bottom line? She wasn’t wrong to trust a man she loves—because it had to be love. He’s not rich or good-looking or powerful. She just loves the wrong man. I don’t.”
“Well now,” he murmured, then leaned in to take her mouth in a soft, slow, sweet kiss.
“There’s the one where I coat the inside of all your boxers with a biological that causes your works to develop festering boils.”
It made him wince. “Christ Jesus, you obviously have far too much free time.”
“I’ve got a whole list,” she said as he opened the front door. “For him, too,” she added, shooting a finger at Summerset.
Summerset merely cocked his eyebrows. “No visible injuries once again. We appear to be on a streak.”
“For him I have the stick up his ass surgically removed, and without it, his whole body collapses into a puddle of ghoul.”
She tossed her coat over the newel post. “You’ll be too busy with festering boils to have him reanimated. "
― J.D. Robb , Connections in Death (In Death, #48)