She massaged her temple. “Him. I was going to say I love ‘him.’ As in, I love you, and can you please put away that…dagger, or whatever it is?” “It’s a combat knife,” Adrían said. “A fixed sheath tactical Bowie. Would’ve torn a hole in my throat.” Joel tucked away the blade. “He’s right. Non-slip grip. Serrated edge. Would’ve fucked him up.” Adrían flicked a thumb at him and nodded.
