Felicity had just enough breath left to laugh when the man on the other side of the supermarket wall said, "Christ, Marx, if you knock that shelf over, you're explaining how it happened."
She knew Pope's voice. And now Pope knew a fair bit more about hers. She buried her face in Victor's chest, which did nothing to help because the bastard was laughing too. Voss passed her a cup of water while Damien found her something to wear over what was left of her dress.
Across the wall, Ivan wished he'd taken first watch. Legend had clawed four grooves into the windowsill. Marx was coming down from a private moment behind a stack of cartons, and Pope had apparently decided that a man could save his dignity by looking busy afterward. There wasn't much left of Ivan's own dignity, either. He'd had his hand in his pants and the sound of that woman's pleasure in his ears. He cleaned himself up, glad his men had better manners than to turn around.
