Page 77 of Unplanned Target

She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “It wasn’t really my decision. Your brother said he’s tired of cleaning up the dead bodies I leave behind.”

I’ve gotten to know Becca a little better in the few weeks we’ve been here in Nashville—and we’ve talked plenty about what happened when she and Butch were running from Owen and his team in Memphis—but I don’t remember her saying anything about dead bodies. “Are you being serious?”

I’m not sure she’s ever told a joke in her life, but I’m also not sure the tiny woman is capable of murder, so I’m real fucking confused right now.

That could just be the concussion talking though.

Becca looks just as confused as I am, her dark brows pinching together. “Of course I’m being serious. I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”

I stare at her, blinking a few times just to make sure I’m not actually unconscious again. “Are you saying you’ve killed people?”

Becca seems to bristle at the question. “Well I didn’t do it on purpose.” She stands a little straighter. “And every time was in self-defense.” Her head tips from side to side. “Or defending your brother.”

“Every time?” I manage to sit up, figuring this is a conversation I should be vertical for. “How many times has it happened?”

Her eyes move away from mine. “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Maybe two or three.”

“You’ve killed two or three people?” That’s a lot more than one, which still seems like plenty.

“I’ve killed two or three men. Specifically bad men.” Becca’s eyes still won’t meet mine as she purses her lips in consideration. “Possibly four.”

Possibly four. Becca has possibly killed four men. “How did this happen?”

“Well, one was with a hammer in a dark basement. A couple more were with a stepladder.” She cringes. “And the last one was with forks.”

“Forks, plural?” I was already impressed with this woman based on her math skills and willingness to tolerate my brother’s bullshit. But learning she has killed four men, one of them using forks, has me respecting the hell out of her.

It also has me feeling a little disappointed in myself. I didn’t come close to killing any of the guys who grabbed me yesterday. I maybe bruised a few of their egos and offended their delicate natures. Technically, I did lead to their demise in a roundabout way. But them dying because the man I love killed them to save me is completely different from forking someone to death with my bare hands.

I don’t actually understand how you can fork someone to death. Not sure I want to know.

“I guess I’m extra glad you’re working in an office now.” I gingerly touch the right side of my face. “But it probably would have been totally cool if you’d been with me yesterday. I might not have ended up getting the shit knocked out of me.”

“You probably still would have gotten the shit knocked out of you.” Becca says it matter-of-factly. “But we also probably would have killed at least one of those guys ourselves.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter how it happened, as long as it happened.” Leaning back, I close my eyes.

Becca’s quiet for a second, and I start to drift off.

I jump a little when she blurts out. “I think Butch and I are going to move here.”

“I know.” I crack open the less swollen of my eyes. “Owen told me.”

Becca nibbles her lower lip. “I was thinking maybe you and Allie should move here too.” She lowers into the chair next to my bed, scooting closer. “You could totally stay with us if you don’t want to live with Owen.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to live with Owen?” Becca is pretty observant, so I’m a little perplexed about why she hasn’t figured out I’m crazy over the guy.

“Living with someone is a pretty big commitment.” She leans closer, lowering her voice. “I’m actually a little worried about living with your brother.”

“You probably should be.” I think about my brother’s house. The one that still looks exactly like it did when he bought it from a seventy-year-old woman with a love for home-sweet-home wallpaper border. “He’s a nightmare.”

For some reason my assessment of Tony seems to please her.

Becca smiles, her whole face lighting up. “I know.”

I laugh as much as I can, considering the ache in my ribs and the sting in my face. “At least you’re going into it with your eyes wide open.” I wince, one hand curling around my middle as a stab of pain steals my breath. “And, for the record, Allie and I are already staying here.” I carefully pull in a deep breath. “I’ve actually been picking out floor plans.”

I’m going to have to break the news to my daughter at some point, but I don’t think she’ll mind. Especially not with how much she seems to love being here. I think going back to Memphis might also be tough for her. Kinsley wasn’t in the group we rescued, and I know that’s been a hard pill to swallow. Facing her friend’s missing presence on a daily basis would be a lot to handle.