Jenny

“Agent Briggs had led that team. Shortly thereafter, he’d started using Dean—the son of a notorious serial killer—to get inside the head of other killers. Eventually, the FBI had discovered what Briggs was doing and, instead of firing him, they’d made it official. Dean had been moved into an old house in the town outside of Marine Corps Base Quantico. Briggs had hired a man named Judd to act as Dean’s guardian. Over time, Briggs had begun recruiting other teenagers with savant-like skills. First Lia, with her uncanny ability to lie and to spot lies when they exited the mouths of others. Then Sloane and Michael, and finally me.”
― Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Killer Instinct

“Briggs has a case.” Michael liked to make an entrance. “He just got the call.”

“But his team just got back.” Sloane loaded her catapult again. “The FBI has fifty-six field offices, and the DC field office is the second-largest in the country. There are dozens of teams who could take this case. Why assign it to Briggs?”

“Because I’m the most qualified for the job,” Briggs said, coming into the room. “And,” he added under his breath, “because somewhere along the way, the universe decided I needed to suffer.”
― Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Killer Instinct

“I have an idea,” Lia said in an overly innocent tone that I recognized immediately as trouble. “We could always take things to the next level.” She unknotted the white kerchief around her neck and tossed it to me. Her fingers played with the bottom of her tank top, raising it up just enough to make it crystal clear what the “next level” was.

“It is my understanding that the rules of strip poker specify that only the loser is required to disrobe,” Sloane interjected. “No one has lost yet, ergo—”

“Call it a show of solidarity,” Lia said, inching her shirt up farther. “Cassie’s almost out of chips. I’m just trying to even the playing field.”

“Lia.” Dean was not amused.

“Come on, Dean,” Lia said, her bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Loosen up. We’re all friends here.” With those words, Lia pulled off her tank top.”
― Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Killer Instinct

“Sloane?” Lia turned to her next. Sloane stared at Lia, a blush spreading over her cheeks.

“I’m not undressing until we establish a conversion rate,” she informed us tartly, gesturing toward her mountain of chips.

“Sloane,” Michael said.

“Yes?”

“How would you feel about a second cup of coffee?”

Forty-five seconds later, Sloane was in the kitchen, and neither of the boys was wearing a shirt.”
― Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Killer Instinct