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“I’m afraid that’s not altogether true,” Flynn said, without emotion or pretense. “Errol purchased a single, first class, one-way ticket to Monaco. Therefore, Mother, you were not included in his grand scheme. Also, Monaco is a principality, not a country. Principalities are ruled by princes or princesses, not kings and queens, as is the common misconception.”
Ariana’s face dropped, and the gun wavered as her attention turned to a red-faced Errol. “That’s…ridiculous,” she said unconvincingly. “Tell them, Errol darling. I’m going with you. We’re in love. Always have been.”
Flynn, bless him, kept talking. “I hacked into Errol’s laptop last night. It’s all there if you care to see it.” He held up a thumb drive.
“No,” she said, her head wobbling back and forth. “Tell him that’s a lie.” She turned to her lover/stepson. “Errol!”
Instead of refuting Flynn’s accusations, Errol’s hand grabbed the wavering gun from Ariana, causing everyone to gasp and take a step back.
“Just stop!” Errol yelled at the dazed and confused woman, fumbling to find his pocket and shoving her gun inside as he kept his pointed toward the group.
Ariana began to sob. “Errol, my love, what are you doing?” She blindly reached out and tried to hold on to him, but he shoved her toward the others, causing her to flail and then stumble into the Pinkie Posse, who instead of catching her, watched the rotund woman drop unceremoniously to the floor.
“I’ve never loved you, you useless cow,” Errol spat. “You were nothing more than a means to an end. Thank God the end is near and you’re no longer of use to me.”
Attempting to regain some dignity and failing miserably, she used both hands to make it to all fours.
“You feckless sod,” she cried out, now with anger as opposed to disbelief. Bobbing, inelegantly, her layers of Spanx on full display, she teetered and weaved onto one knee, and after an exhaustive effort, she stood, her face beet red, as much from the effort of standing as with unmitigated rage. Her dress gaping open, the silk tie having lost the fight.
“This behavior will not be tolerated,” she fumed as she blew a chunk of her once coifed hair out of her eyes. “I have powerful contacts of my own.” She raised her chin, making a fateful trek to the right, toward the office.
Grant, as well as the others, held their collective breaths as she continued her tirade. “Let’s just see how far you get after I make a call into—”
The unmistakable crack of gunfire made Grant wince and the others gasp wide-eyed and incredulously as the woman wobbled and weaved, glancing down at the unsightly hole in her dress, then at Errol, falling to the marble floor with a thud.
Silence ensued as everyone stared, with exception of Mia, whose head was held tight against Birdie’s chest. The others, openly gaping at a prone Ariana, lying on her stomach, her head twisted to the side and the bullet hole beginning to bloom into a red flower on the silk fabric of her dress.
“Good riddance, Mother,” Errol said with a sneer, turning toward the group. “Anyone else care to test their fate?” He waved his pistol around. “Anyone?”
No one moved, let alone responded, as his eyes had turned glassy, deranged.
“How convenient that the individuals causing the explosion will be held responsible for the mass murder in my home. As I travel to Monaco, despondent and despairing, with everyone’s money and my innocence a foregone conclusion.”
Grant considered a frontal attack, throwing himself in front of the weapon and protecting those around him.
A desperate headshake from Lucas, interpreting his intent, said otherwise.
“Don’t even think about it,” Tati whispered, sealing the decision.
Okay, on to plan B.
“Flynn,” Errol called out, raising the gun and aiming it at his twin. “Your next, brother.”
Nope. Back to plan A.
Just as Grant took a step back to prepare for the lunge, the front doors flew open, slamming into the side of an unsuspecting Errol, causing him to stumble and fall, the gun flying vertically into the air and then landing in front of him.
“Freeze, FBI.”
While everyone’s eyes were trained on the heroic entrance of law enforcement, with Alpha Morales in full SWAT gear at the lead and the letters FBI emblazoned across their vests, they failed to notice Errol grabbing his gun, randomly aiming.
Another shot rang out.
This time, coming from behind the group, near the entrance of the kitchen, clipping Errol on the hand as he screamed, dropping the gun once again. This time, Tati and Grant both lunged for it, Grant seizing it while Tati dug her booted heel into Errol’s bleeding hand.
Grant looked over his shoulder from where the last bullet erupted and spotted an older woman standing in the archway to the kitchen, undeniably a crack shot as she managed to tag Errol and no one else.
He heard an incredulous Birdie murmur, “Vanessa?”
