Page 73 of Tear Me to Pieces
I cringe inwardly at the last name. I didn’t want to keep Matthias’s name, but I’m not sure going back to my father’s was any better.
Hopefully I’ll be able to replace it with a new one—one I choose myself—soon.
“That’s me.” I step back, motioning toward the family room. “Do you want to see where you’re bringing everything?”
The men follow me in and I leave the door open since they’re just going to be headed back out. As I walk down the hall, I open the app for the camera on the front porch and switch it off. Hearing the alarm go off a million times while they bring in my couch will drive me crazy.
When I look up, I nearly bump into one of their backs. I fumble my phone, but manage to regain my grip on it as I lean to see what has them stopping so abruptly.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Becca.
Last night after Simon and I got home from the hospital, he made enough dinner for us to invite Becca and Butch over. I think it might be the first real meal she’s eaten, and from what she said this morning, the heavy weight of the carbs in the pasta pretty much made her comatose, so she also got a full night’s sleep. Add-on that she took an extra extended shower upstairs in my bathroom, and she’s looking pretty darn cute. She’s got this innocent, nerdy vibe that is probably catnip to most men.
My movers included.
Stepping around them, I move into the family room, gesturing to the blank wall in front of me. “I’d like the long end of the sectional right here, with the shorter portion angling over there.”Continuing to flail around, I make a rough L-shaped with my swinging arm.
I’m so wrapped up in laying out the foundation of my family’s future that it takes a second for the strange noise behind me to register. Even when it does, I don’t immediately recognize where it came from. So when I turn and find one of the movers gripping Becca, with one hand plastered across her mouth, I’m surprised.
Pretty sure the guys bringing me a sofa shouldn’t be grabbing my friend that way.
Time seems to slow down as I take in the gravity of the situation I’ve found myself in. The full extent of the threat Becca and I are facing. I wasn’t sure who exactly was after her, but I have a feeling I’ve got my eyes on them right now.
And I’ll be damned if I let them take her the same way they took her sister.
My brain quickly falls back onto itsanything can be a weaponbelief. My eyes dart around in search of an option. It doesn’t have to be anything great, it just has to be capable of inflicting pain.
Luckily, a great option is well within my reach.
The empty-armed mover zeros in on me like a heat seeking missile. He’s about to find what he’s looking for.
As he lunges, I dodge, grabbing the handheld steamer still plugged into the wall. In a quick movement, I twist the bubbling reservoir free of the flared plastic end and aim the opening right at his face. Flicking my wrist, I fling every bit of the boiling water through the air. The second it connects with his skin, I drop the empty tank and rip the cord from the outlet, carrying the restof the unit with me as I race into the front room. I know it’s not much, but maybe I can beat him to death with it before the plastic break?—
A large body slams into me as soon as I make the turn into the foyer. The guy who had Becca must have decided his energy was better spent trying to chase me down, because now he’s grabbing me instead of her.
I’ve got a split second to decide how best to use my weapon of choice.
What would Piper do? She would forget about blunt force trauma and go straight to strangulation.
Gripping the cord in both hands, leaving as much length as possible between the two, I fling them over the shoulder closest to his head, planting the cord against the front of his throat. In a move so quick I can’t believe I manage it, I shove my hands back, cross my wrists, then pull the remaining length of cord over his head and back to my front, effectively wrapping it around his neck. The twist I added in the back, makes it easy for me to cinch.
And hard for him to loosen.
I drop low, putting all my weight into choking him out. I’m feeling like I might be getting somewhere when suddenly, his whole body lurches forward, taking me to the floor.
“Oh shit.” Becca steps into my line of sight as one of the stools Simon bought for my island clatters to the floor. “I didn’t expect him to go down so fast.” Her head tilts. “Or for his neck to end up at that weird angle.”
I slowly roll my eyes toward the pile of probably-not-a-real-mover pinning me to the floor. He stares back at me.
In a really dead sort of way.
Becca bends at the waist, nose wrinkling as she inspects her handy work. “Do you think I killed him?”
“I mean...” I try to wiggle free. “He sure feels like dead weight.”
“Myra.” Simon’s bellow carries in through the still open front door.
“He’s not going to be happy.” I shove at the probably dead guy on my back. “Help me get up so Simon doesn’t have a coronary when he walks in.”
