“SWAT? For me?" Still trembling, one hand clung to the ambulance gurney, the other held a massive sterilised cotton wool wad under my nose.
"Tactical Support was busy. You got Dennis and Arlo," said Harry, speed-reading the papers he'd snatched from inside my jacket.
Closest his hands had been to my chest in a long time.
"Which one broke my nose?"
"That'd be Dennis.”