I just laid there, my left arm throbbing from the impact, my right side none too happy either. I kept my eyes shut so I wouldn't see how bad it was. I... could smell exhaust and steam from a dirty engine and hear the moans of Jake, as well as the screams of the spectators."Trish," a voice whispered and my eyes flashed open."Connor?" What the hell was he doing here?"Curl your legs up." I did as he told me and saw him drop the truck the last few inches to the ground."How did you-?" I stopped and. Her gun was nowhere to be seen. Her nanomite blade, usually strapped to her hip, missing. Her undersuit, lined with enough microfiber chips and transmitters to crack a class-9 corporate firewall had been stripped off and disposed of somewhere, as with the rest of her clothes. She was as bare as the walls.Bare except, of course, for two important exceptions. The lush and colourful tattoo covering the length of her right arm and, much to her dismay but not her surprise, the grey band wrapped. " He looked to be in his late forties, greying hair and overweight, but with a friendly, welcoming smile."Hello Skip," I smiled back. "I'm ... Emma," I almost buggered it up, "and this is Kevin." Wotcha!" Kevin gave an informal salute from behind Brian. Oh, take him now, Lord!"Well pull up a pew," Skip indicated some chairs against the rear wall of the wheelhouse. "Me 'n' Brian've gotta get this tub on its way to Circular Quay. We can yak when we're outta the Cove."Brian sat on the stool beside. Pour la troisième fois aujourd'hui, il se repassait le spot publicitaire qu'il avait fait publier un peu plus tôt dans la semaine, et cette dernière phrase le faisait toujours autant rire. Il soupira de contentement. Il sentait qu'il allait se plaire ici. Il parcourut du regard le vaste appartement au dessus de la _walk of fame _de Los Angeles qu'il venait d'acheter à prix d'or. Il avait bien grimpé les échelons depuis l'époque ou il sillonnait les rues de Paris à la recherche de nouvelles.