"...he just wants his crummy knife back."
Their little conversation had been over an hour ago, and now Tully was worried.
No, 'worried' wasn't the right word. It was more restlessness, boredom, and a need to see Troy and Moffitt returning. But not worry. He almost never worried, it was something he'd worked hard to cure himself of, since doing it never helped anything or anybody.
The sun was going down, slanting shadows across the desert sand.
Cool air drifted into the still desert, a welcome reprieve from the glaring heat of the day. Or, at least it would've been welcome if it wasn't for the fact that the colder it got, the closer he and Hitch were to being spiked at the end of an Arab's spear.
But, no, he wouldn't worry.