Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

Holly ran around the sofa, her gun still pointed at the man. As she kicked his weapon away from him, more fire erupted from outside the house. “Stay, Daisy!” she yelled. She didn’t want the dog to run outside and directly into fire. She flattened herself against the door jamb and took a quick look outside, snatching her head back. As she did, she heard the spinning of tires on gravel and saw the shadow of a car heading up her driveway toward A1A.

“Pizza man’s dead,” Grant said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Holly panted, “how about you?”

“My pride is wounded, nothing else. How could I let that happen?”

“We were expecting pizza,” Holly said. She looked out the door again. “Seems to be all clear.”

“Where’s the real pizza guy?” Grant asked.

“Oh, no,” Holly said, stepping outside. She ran to the driveway and saw a car parked near the top. As she approached it, gun in hand, a figure got out of the car. “Freeze, police!” she yelled. And the figure stopped moving.

She came closer and found a young man holding his head, which was bleeding. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Pizza delivery,” he said

. “What happened?”

“You come with me,” she said, taking his arm and pulling him down the driveway.

Finally, the police, the ambulance, the crime-scene tech, the medical examiner, the pizza man, and the corpse had left the house.

“Jesus, what an evening,” Grant said, picking up the pizza and examining it. “You know, I think the pizza is okay; shall I stick it in the oven?”

“Considering we nearly died for it, it would be a shame to waste it,” Holly replied.

Grant turned on the oven and put the pizza in to warm up.

Holly was examining the row of bullet holes in the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I think I’ll leave these,” she said. “They’re kind of cute. I mean, who else has bullet holes as part of their decor?”

“I’m glad they’re in the counter, instead of us,” Grant said, retrieving his wineglass. “Or the wine bottle. I think I need this right now.” He took a deep draft of the wine.

“Me too,” Holly said. “That’s two people I’ve killed. So Trini has friends, huh?”

“It would appear so.”

Holly picked up the phone. “What was Harry’s home number again?” Grant gave it to her, and she dialed.

“Hello?” Harry sounded terrible.

“You sick?”

“Terrible cold,” Harry said. “I didn’t go in today. What’s up?”

“Tell me Trini Rodriguez is in the Lauderdale jail.”

“I assume so. Like I said, I didn’t go in today. Why?”

“Because two guys with Uzis visited me tonight.”

“Are you okay, Holly?”

“Barely. One of the shooters is dead, and one is being sought.”

“Anybody else hurt?”

“A pizza deliveryman got a lump on the head, that’s all.”