‘Does it matter?’ Gabriel ground his teeth. She was not going to make this easy on him. ‘Yes.’ Gabriel answered tersely. ‘Why?’ she seeme... indifferent to him, and it was making him nervous. Had she already found someone else? He was an idiot to think she wouldn’t. Desiree flipped her blankets back and marched out of the room. She really only did it because she knew walking away in the middle of a conversation would drive Gabriel nuts, and predictably it did. ‘Don’t walk away from me,’ he said. I walked forward and picked up the dropped revolver. Glancing to the right, I saw that the original owner had had his throat cut by an improvised knife made from razor blades embedded in something that looked like a hair brush handle. "Who are you?" a man to my left demanded. "Harris, British Military Intelligence," I said training my weapon on him. "Hughes. NYPD," he said, pulling a badge from his pocket. I glanced at it and passed him the revolver. "If you make. More

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