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She nodded and swiped under each eye. “That would be really nice. No one’s ever really done that before.”
“That’s about to change,” he said, lowering his body to look directly into her eyes, squeezing the back of her neck assuredly. “Okay, now let’s go get our peeps with nary a plan but tons of bravado.”
Just as they reached the driveway, Tati turned toward the gorgeous vista on the other side of the road, which Grant had to admit was an idyllic view of the Charles River.
“It really is beautiful here,” Tati said. “Primo property. So serene and…expensive,” she added as an eighty-foot yacht sailed by. Slow and easy.
Grant mused aloud, “I can see why Errol and Ariana were so bent on taking it from Birdie.”
And then, there was an explosion.
The entire scene before them that was once serene and bucolic had turned into a firestorm of epic proportions, with heat and mechanical force spitting hot fireballs of metal and shards of woods all around them. After what seemed an eternity, they peered out from under their arms, protecting them from the falling debris, and saw what was once a yacht was now a black mushroom cloud billowing and belching as it rose up and into the blue Massachusetts sky.
Grant grabbed Tati, and they ran to the side of the security fence to the estate to further protect themselves from the detritus of the explosion while waiting for the guards to do their thing. They crouched down and watched the scene play out before them, slack-jawed.
Suddenly, their prayers were answered as the gate opened and several black Escalades careened out of the driveway. Grant and Tati waited patiently and were blessedly given just enough time to slip inside the gate before it closed shut behind the last vehicle.
Once halfway up the drive, they stepped to the side to catch their breath and assess the damage, hiding beneath a long row of shrubs lining the curved driveway.
Despite the yacht having been a good quarter mile away, their clothes looked as if they’d, well, been in an explosion. Tati’s face had black smudges and a small cut on her forehead seeping blood.
“Baby, are you okay?” Grant asked, his hands roaming her body and checking her for any other physical damage.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
He continued running his hands down her arms and legs. Satisfied, he rotated on the balls of his feet to take in the black smoke that was now wafting from what was left of the yacht and scattered pieces littering the recently embroiled surface of the water.
“That’s a small distraction?” Grant hissed as security ran past their hiding place in the shrubs and toward the origin of the explosion. “What the ever-loving fuck?”
“I swear to God, this time, I’m going to kill him,” Tati said with clenched teeth.
Together, they watched the yacht continue to burn in disbelief. A barricade of vehicles drove by on the main road, likely to investigate and make sense of what occurred.
Grant crawled out of their hiding place, gave the grounds a quick sweep of his eyes, and Tati his hand to help her up.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, lightly touching the skin next to her cut to see how deep it went.
“I’m fine,” she said, stomping on a piece of burning metal next to her. “Morales’s days are numbered, but other than that…” Pulling out her phone, she sent something that Grant was sure was a text full of threats and expletives to Morales.
“Let’s make our way to the house. Any suggestions as to the best entry point?” Grant asked.
“I say we go in through the front door. They won’t expect anyone to be so brazen, especially after that explosion.”
Grant couldn’t disagree more but she was in one of her moods. Determined. Invincible. And a little cray-cray. He was quickly learning, where Tati was concerned, it was better to be at the ready when everything went to shit than to try to convince her otherwise.
They scurried toward the house. Once to the palatial front steps, he pulled out his revolver while standing behind a pillar as Tati sidled up to a window and peeked over the casing, with her own weapon lowered and to the side.
“What do you see?” he asked, providing cover.
“There’s Flynn, Birdie, and Lucas. And, oh shit, those old ladies. What the hell?”
Grant lowered his head with a sigh. “Fuck. The Pinkie Posse.”
But Tati had a wide grin on her face. “That’s what I want to be like when I’m old. They’re like a geriatric gang of female thugs.”
“I’m starting to second guess my desire to grow old with you.”
She sniffed. “You should be so lucky. Count your blessings. They’re all standing in front of the door as if waiting for us to come in and rescue them!”
