He muted the TV, laid the remote on the end table, and cocked his head to look up at her. “You could have knocked. So tell me, what is it you want?” “What a loving way to greet your daughter!” Annie stood just inside the door. She bristled, glaring at the old man. “A better

Phil flipped a match. Its head touched the blistering sidewalk, burst into flame. “Cool,” she said. “Lemonade?” “Thanks.” The cold liquid slid down his parched throat. His eyes slid over her. Moist golden-brown skin, curly auburn hair, body radiating sultry heat.

  The missile fell from the sky and hit the sidewalk with a loud, wet, plopping sound, barely missing Jerome’s regulation spit-shined shoes. The knot of shoppers surrounding the gunnery sergeant and his companion broke apart like an overripe melon splattering to pieces upon impact. Following standard battlefield protocol,