"Put the gun down," I said. "You won't need it."
She stared at me for a long moment, eyes narrowed to slits.
"You think you're some tough guy?"
"I didn't say that," I replied evenly. "We just don't have time to waste on this. Put the gun down so we can get on with it. I need to catch up with my crew."
She held my gaze a second longer, jaw tight, then dropped the gun onto the table with a heavy clack.
She climbed onto the bed and sat there, clearly rethinking the whole thing. I followed, sitting across from her.
"Okay… fine," she muttered, shoving her jeans down her legs in one rough motion. Her blood-stained top stayed on. "Hurry the fuck up," Mary said, shifting on the bed. "We don't have much time."
She was right. The dark red stain on her shirt had spread noticeably while we talked.
