“Will you keep one?” a crying street girl whispered to a billionaire. Trembling, he looked at the infants and recognized his stolen twins-and the incredible sacrifice of the homeless girl who saved them…
“Sammy? Sammy, wake up. Look at me.” Her voice was a desperate, high-pitched plea.
Marcus swerved into the oncoming lane, tires screeching against the slick asphalt, the horn blaring a continuous, deafening note. I reached back, my fingers finding the baby’s tiny wrist. The pulse was there, but it was a faint, frantic flutter, like a dying moth.
