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“It’s what she does, Ms. Morgan.’ Mr. Solomon’s eyes found mine, but there was a change in him somehow. ‘Running,’ he added. ‘Of course, technically, her pattern is to do something to get kicked out, but that’s not an option now, so she’s taken matters into her own hands. Do you know what I’m saying, Ms. Morgan?’
But sadly, I didn’t.
‘Sometimes people run...to see if you’ll come after them.”
― Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover
But sadly, I didn’t.
‘Sometimes people run...to see if you’ll come after them.”
― Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover
“There are things spies often carry with them: pocket litter, fake IDs, and the occasional weapon-slash-camera-slash-hair accessory. But the heaviest things, I think, are the secrets. They can drown you if you let them. As I sat inside Sublevel Two that day, I knew the one I held was so heavy I might never see the surface again.”
― Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover
― Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover
“There's something about seeing people when they have just wake up--before they have a chance to put on the face they show everyone else. There's like this last hint of innocence.”
― Fat Cat
― Fat Cat
“There's a power that comes with silence. I had grown to fear the unsaid thing. So it felt like a release to say it-to admit that the risk wasn't just inside our walls-it was inside my skin. I was willing to claw, scratch, and bleed until I'd found it.”
― Out of Sight, Out of Time
― Out of Sight, Out of Time
“Okay, gang," I said, "according to blueprints, there's an elevator access panel on the east side of the building. We may get a little dirty, but—"
"I thought we'd just go through the doors," Liz said, flashing three beautifully engraved invitations and some wonderfully authentic fake IDs.
The tickets were $20,000 each. The Secret Service had been vetting the guest list for weeks, so Bex and I stopped beneath a streetlamp and studied Liz.
"Do I even want to know where you got those?" I asked.
Liz seemed to ponder it, and then she said, "No.”
― Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover
"I thought we'd just go through the doors," Liz said, flashing three beautifully engraved invitations and some wonderfully authentic fake IDs.
The tickets were $20,000 each. The Secret Service had been vetting the guest list for weeks, so Bex and I stopped beneath a streetlamp and studied Liz.
"Do I even want to know where you got those?" I asked.
Liz seemed to ponder it, and then she said, "No.”
― Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover
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