"That's what the island's best at," he agreed easily, "second chances and new starts." It certainly had been for him.

He was going to respond to her musings about the future, but held them back when she coughed and he winced in sympathy for her ribs. When he'd been hit by part of a tank shell, the recoil had slammed him back into a wall. He'd a vivid motley of bruises on his back and sides that put his current bumps and scrapes to shame, and could remember the agony of breathing and talking when your ribs wanted nothing well to do with it.

"No problem," Lipton told Lao when he woke, rifle in hand and a quick slap to his side showing his knife was handy as well. He nodded to Sonya, gratful that Lao had saved him from having to convince her to sit tight himself, and headed out the door, wary and alert.