Page 69 of Tear Me to Pieces
Becca’s head tips, her eyes narrowing in a scrutinizing gaze. “Why didn’t you leave?”
“I was raised in a fundamentalist church that worked very hard to suppress women. To make sure we had few options. I didn’t have a driver’s license. A bank account. Credit card. Nothing. My husband kept all my documents locked up tight.” I shrug, feeling oddly disconnected from everything. “And when he figured out I was going to try to leave him anyway, he took me out into the middle of nowhere and locked me in a cabin where he thought no one could find me.” I lean closer to Becca. “But Lydia found me anyway. She and Christian and Simon and Tate came for me. Saved me when I couldn’t save myself.”
Becca’s dark eyes are watery as they meet mine. “How did she find you?”
“I managed to sneak out and ran like hell.” For the first time emotion creeps in, but it’s not sadness over all the time I lost or regret over not finding a way out sooner. It’s not even disgust at the men who tried to ruin me. It’s pride. “I found a spot where Lydia and I played when we were kids and she was able to meet me there.” It’s a super simplified version of the events—just like Beca’s—but hopefully it’s enough to make the task of finding her sister seem possible. Something to give her hope.
She pulls in a deep breath. “I just wish I knew she was okay. That I could tell her I’m looking for her.” Her expression hardens. “And that I’m going to murder every person who did this to her.”
I’m not sure how much murdering goes on around here anymore, but sure. Murder sounds fun. I know a few people I’dbe plotting against if they weren’t already behind bars. I like that they can’t get to me, but it also means I can’t get to them.
“I’ll help.” I might as well get it out of my system any way I can. “I’ve got a lot of feminine rage to get rid of.”
Becca gives me a small smile. “I’d like that.”
We both jump when my front door flies open and heavy footsteps come thudding our way. Simon races into the kitchen, looking a little wild.
I sit up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s your phone?” His dark eyes snap around the kitchen.
“I don’t know.” I pat my pockets. “Upstairs maybe?” I lose the damn thing almost as much as I lose my coffee cup. “Why?”
He comes toward me, moving fast. “We’ve got to go.”
I stand, letting him direct me toward the back door. “Where are we going?”
“The hospital.” He leads me straight out into the chilly autumn air. “Lydia’s having the baby.”
24
SIMON
“She’s so pretty.”Myra sits next to her sister on the hospital bed, eyes fused to the tiny baby tucked in Lydia’s arms.
I’ve seen plenty of babies over the years—my brothers are in the habit of making as many of them as they can—but I’m always struck by how fucking small they are. How helpless and fragile and delicate.
It’s a little terrifying.
Lydia turns to Myra. “You want to hold her?”
Myra’s gaze jumps to where I stand next to Christian, lingering just a second before going back to her sister. She bobs her head in a small nod.
I watch, unable to breathe as Lydia settles the baby into Myra’s embrace. It’s not hard to imagine this moment as a very different scenario. One where it’s not Christian’s baby my Myra’s holding.
“It fucking sucks.” Christian’s voice is low in my ear.
My head snaps his way. “What?”
He tips his head at his wife. “Having to watch them suffer. Knowing it’s your fault. That there’s not shit you can do to stop it. It fucking sucks.”
That’s an angle I hadn’t considered. But now it’s going to haunt me at night. “Thanks for the tip.”
“No problem.” Christian shrugs. “I figured, based on the way you’re looking at her, it wouldn’t be long before it was Myra in that bed.”
I haven’t told anyone about the deal I made with Myra. The agreement we negotiated. It didn’t feel like it was their business. And I didn’t want one of my brothers to try to talk me out of it.
Or kick my ass over it.
