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“I’m a stone-cold bastard hell-bent on revenge,” he adds helpfully.

Ninian looks impressed.

“No good will come of me, is what I’m saying.” He shakes his head. “Good thing there’s that three-day wait, right?” His feet are bare, and the white shirt tucked out from under his fleece is a cartoon sneer.

“There are ways around that,” she chuckles.


She holds up the Deagle on one finger, letting it dangle, so big and fat and bright.

“You can sell me a gun, then?” His eyes are puppies.

Ninian nods gently, easy now.

“Are you sure?” he asks.