Strides

“Don’t move, bitch.” There was something real scary about that voice, because it was too fucking cheerful, like throwing Prior through that door had been kind of a treat. “I mean really don’t move.…” And the woman was across the room in three strides, very close, so close that Mona felt the cold coming off the leather of the woman’s jacket.

“Okay,” Mona said, “okay …”

Then hands grabbed her, fast, and she was flat on her back, shoulders pressed down hard into the foam, and something—the shockrod—was right in front of her face.

***

Mona Lisa Overdrive ch 27