Now she gives me the once-over. Twice. “Youlook well fucked. It’s about bloody time.”
“Amen to that.”
“When do I get to—”
My phone ringing cuts her off.
“Him?”
I shake my head, look down and see “Unknown.”Maybe it is Ethan.
“Hello.”
“Theresa, this is Skip.”
I feel the blood rush out of my face at thesame time my knees lock. My sister sees it, grabs my hand, andpushes me down to sit on the edge of the bed.
I can barely speak. “Is he alive?”
“Absolutely,” he says quickly.
The breath returns to my lungs and I’m ableto think. Sort of. “What happened?”
“He was shot in the arm, and he’s in surgeryat Mount Sinai Hospital.”
“I’m leaving right now.”
“They expect the surgery to take a fewhours.”
“I’m leaving right now.”
“Gotcha. Listen, don’t freak when you seecops and agents in the waiting room.”
Now I’m freaking. “Okay.”
“The doctor knows to ask for you.”
That saves me one hurdle I don’t have toclear. “Okay.”
“Theresa. He’s going to be all right.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“I’m not BS-ing you. He’ll be fine.”
“Thank you for the call, Skip.”
“Can’t wait to meet you.”
“Are you there?”
“No. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
He hangs up.
I stare at the phone and Laura takes it outof my hand. “Talk to me,” she says gently.
