If it had been anyone on my list of people that I trusted implicitly, it wouldn't have happened. I shook my head. Healing and a little facial reconstruction, you are good, he said, and his tone made it not a compliment. I was more cautious, scanning the area as I moved to join them, my gun pointed at the ground, but held two-handed, ready to go back up.
I was cursing Malcolm, cursing him for the mess he'd started. Not yet, I said, but even as I said it the endorphins began to fade, and the first ache began. He wanted. It was one of those laughs that held more bitterness than humor.
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