19
Wendy popped her head in the bathroom and jumped when she saw the g*n. “Jesus Christ, Shea! What the hell?” She seemed less jittery, eyes more focused. The clammy flush of fever was gone. Her hair was brushed, makeup not quite concealing the shiner Mackey had given her.
“Sorry. Didn’t know it was you.” Shea tossed the Glock onto her jeans, piled on the floor next to her. “Where the hell you been?”
“I got hungry. Where’s Annie?”
Shea shook her head. “She wasn’t there.”
Tears filled Wendy’s eyes. She collapsed onto the toilet seat, burying her face in her hands. “What are we gonna do? I want my baby back.”
Gritting her teeth against the pain, Shea pivoted toward her and put a hand on her sister’s knee. “We’ll get her back. Just gotta figure out a way to get the ransom.”
Wendy looke
