tile, rips us from our moment. Our heads whip toward the bedroom door in shock.
“What was that?” Grace whispers, her eyes wide with fear. I’m already on the move.
Yanking my jeans on, I move to the door with my gun in hand before Grace even has a chance to pull my T-shirt over her head.
“Stay here,” I tell her, but I’m already focused on the sounds that aren’t yet coming from the front hall.
And then I hear it. A heavy boot crunching down on the broken glass as somebody enters my house.
Bad move, pal.
“Eugene!” she whisper-cries as I slip out of the bedroom and down the hall, my gun up and ready to fire.
My mind races as I listen. Who could this be? Is this the same person who broke the window out at the garage? Is it that fucker, Aaron? Whoever it is, he’s bold. He’s pulling this shit in broad daylight, and could’ve been seen by any number of nosy neighbors on this block.
Slow, careful footsteps creep toward the hallway, and I wait. I don’t want to give the son of a bitch a chance to run out the front door.
When a shadow crosses the floor close to me, I make my move.
Jumping out from the hall, I aim my gun, my feet planted apart, ready to fire.
But Henry Tucker couldn’t care less. He doesn’t stop. He storms toward me, a gun clenched in his own hand, his face twisted with derangement and pure anger.
Before I know what’s hit me, my gun is flying to the ground somewhere out of reach and Henry’s on top of me, biting, scratching, and clawing at me. The sounds coming from his throat are terrifying. I’ve never heard noises like that come from a human being.
His hands go around my throat, and we both fall to the ground in a struggle. There isn’t a lot of room in my tiny living room, and every which way I roll, wanting to take this asshole by surprise and get him off of me, ends with us slamming into a wall or a large piece of furniture. I’m trapped beneath him.
Henry’s eyes are red and empty of everything, except his rage. When he pulls his fist back, getting ready to slam it down into my face, I realize how much danger we’re both in.
Grace is somewhere close by.
Henry Tucker’s fist bashes into my skull once, twice, and then a third time. The ringing in my ears grows, but still, I fight.
I’ve been in my share of fistfights, and I’ve never lost one. I’m not about to lose this one, either.
“Eugene!” Grace shrieks.
Henry’s head whips up to look at her, and I take my shot. I fist his hair in my hand, twisting it in my fingers as close to the scalp as I can manage and throw him off balance.
Using the momentum, I push with my legs to toss him up and over me. I jump to my feet, rushing to get my gun, but Henry reaches his first.
“Don’t you fucking move!” he screams. Looking back, I find him standing with his gun aimed directly at Grace. My heart sinks as I freeze. I couldn’t move now if I wanted to.
“Get over there and stand with her,” he orders, waving the gun between us. “Now!”
As I approach Grace, I stare into her pale, terrified face, wondering how I could have fucked this up so bad. I fucked up, and now she’s in danger. We may not make it out of here alive.
Grace
“You don’t have to do this,” I plead, pressing my back against the wall, my fingers like claws in the back of Eugene’s shirt.
Henry’s lips move, spouting off unintelligible words, but he doesn’t lower the gun. “Where are my fucking kids, bitch?”
Eugene lifts a hand, turning the psycho’s attention onto himself. “Calm down, buddy. Let’s work this out like adults. Nobody has to get hurt here.”
Henry’s lips stop moving as he lowers the gun to his side, but his whole body trembles with aggression. “My kids. They’re my kids, not yours. Mine. Give them to me.”
I tug on Eugene’s shirt, pulling him tight against me. With the blood pounding in my ears, the room around me spins as I force myself to stay still and calm.
“Gene, look what Karma got me!”
Kevin pushes through the back door and into the kitchen before I can stop him, with Natalie right behind him. The moment she lays eyes on Henry, she screeches to a halt. My heart