(The alarm system beeped again.) "Can you make it over the sill?" I don't have a choice, do I," I said, zipping my jeans closed with as much care as I...could manage under the hurried circumstances. I didn't have my panties on and I didn't want to catch anything in the zipper. (Brandon must have it worse.)"Here, help me with the screen," Brandon said, his fingernails dug in. We strained at the thing, which I don't think had ever been removed before, slowly pulling it out of the window frame,. “Well, I’m sorry, I don’t have much in the way of combat gear at home,” she said tartly, “not much call for that in my line of work.” “What line are you in?” I pried, intrigued by her, manner, her incongruous appearance and her apparent ability to survive where many, many others could not. “I was a dancer,” she said. I looked her over. She had the petite, firm physique to bear out that claim but her lower back, inner forearms and cleavage were marked with the kind of sexually explicit tattoos. More

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