Page 12 of Lawton

Sammy clicked through a few more channels and stopped on some infomercial. The announcer's voice boomed through the mist. Smoothies. Veggie drinks. Cocktails. This thing did it all with just the touch of a button. All for five easy payments if you called like now.

But wait, there's more.

Sammy shoved the last bite of sub into his open mouth and set down the remote. He reached for a notepad and scribbled down the number, repeating it out loud as he scratched out the digits. He ripped off the top sheet of paper and shoved it into the front pocket of his saggy jeans.

Again, he reached for the remote. He clicked through a dozen more channels and stopped on a sit-com that was older than me. "The girl," he repeated. "Who was she?"

From the TV, canned laughter filled the room. It was hard to think, and even harder to speak.

Sammy gave me a sideways glance. "You know her?"

I knew lots of girls. But there was something in his voice that I didn't like. It was setting off a whole series of alarm bells that sliced through the fog. Somehow, I made myself mumble, "What girl?"

Sammy smiled, showing lots of teeth. "Hospital girl."

I didn't like that smile, and I didn't like his tone.

Sammy clicked off the TV and turned sideways in the chair. He gave me a good, long look. "You playin' dumb?"

Was I? I wasn't sure. My voice was thick. "Hospital girl?"

"Yeah," he said. "Cute. Maybe eighteen, twenty. Blue jacket. Nice hair."

I almost smiled. She did have nice hair. It probably smelled like summer. Itlookedlike summer. Probably felt like summer too.

Sammy gave me a hard look. "Any of this ringing a bell?"

I gave a slow shake of my head. It hurt like hell, but I worked not to show it. Another dose of drugs, and I'd be out all night. I gave a slow blink. "The nurse?"

"No." Sammy's voice was deadpan. "Your sister."

The joke might've been funny, except I had a sister. She was barely a teenager, and I'd been working like hell to keep her safe. Sammy knew this, which was why he'd mentioned it. It wasn't just a joke. It was a reminder. Call it a warning.

But wasn't the point. Not now, anyway. Because even through the fog, I knew damn well who he meant. The girl on the sidewalk. The girl in the hospital. They were the same girl.

I recalled her telling someone – more than one someone, come to think of it – that she was my sister.

At the memory, something nice and warm squeezed at my heart. She should've left me. But she hadn't. When I got out of here, I decided, I'd look her up, maybe see if she wanted to get a coffee or something.

That's what nice girls did, right? They got coffee? Or lattes. Or whatever.

Sammy spoke again. "Isawher. You forgetting that?"

The warmth faded. I made myself think.Wheredid Sammy see her? Inside the hospital? My mouth went dry. Or outside, on the sidewalk?

Shit.

The hospital room wasn't a big deal. But the sidewalk, that was a problem. She might've seen Sammy. She might've seen Trick. She might've seen the SUV, which come to think of it, belonged to the boss.

"Cut the bull," Sammy said. "A girl like that? You don't forget."

He was right. I wouldn't forget her. But Sammy needed to and fast. Stalling for time, I made myself mumble, "The girl from the hospital?"

"Yeah. A friend of yours?"

"Nah." It was true. I didn't even know her name. Not yet. But somehow, I'd find out. She had amazing eyes. And that voice. So damn sweet.

Sammy gave a low chuckle. "Girl had nice tits."