“But about last night. E. . He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes. ’ Kimble’s eyes widened. ’ She bit her lip, frowning. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. I fought. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. He saw that she was tense. And, besides, she didn’t just immediately want to make her attempt.
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