““[Rynda] fell silent, then glanced at Bug. “Could you get me some coffee?” “No,” Bug said. She blinked. “I’m a surveillance specialist, not a waiter,” Bug said, his diction perfect, his voice flat. “The coffee is on the kitchen counter over there. Help yourself.” She opened her mouth and closed it. “Nevada?” Bug said. Don’t do it, don’t do it . . . “Would you like some coffee?” “No, thanks.” Ass. “Because I’ll totally get it for you.” Rynda got up and walked to the kitchen counter, glancing in Rogan’s direction for a moment. “You’re being cruel,” I murmured. “Sue me,” Bug whispered back.””
