In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. “What the hell is going on here, Officer?” He grumbled. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure.
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