Wife 1

She must be related to one of the other guys, probably a daughter who taught elocution. A hand gently shook Harry’s shoulder. ‘Mr Truscott?’ ‘...es, um, am I being discharged?’ ‘No, I’m afraid not — you have a two more days and then, according to the house surgeon, conditional discharge because you live alone.’ Restricted by his shoulder restraint, appropriately called a gunslinger harness for a guy who lives part of his life in gun-totting fiction, Harry turned carefully on to his back. His eyes. Reno steered himself clear, picking the chair in the far corner, a wise move in his mind for the moment. ‘At least it got a rise out of you,’ his banter matching the volume of his voice. Rude rolled up the parchment, tucking it inside his jacket. There was something bothering him, and his partner’s typical razzing was only expediting it to the surface. ‘Typical sentiment for you… getting a rise out of anything seems to be your major goal in life,’ He snorted. ‘I’ve pushed your buttons. More

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