Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“Holly,” Ed said, “this is my son, Enrico.”

Trini Rodriguez, dressed in a severely cut black suit, smiled a broad smile.

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This was bad. Holly saw Grant getting to his feet and offering Trini his hand. “How do you do?” he asked. Trini ignored him and continued to stare at Holly.

“Grant!” Holly said. “Have you got a weapon on you?” It was a stupid thing to say, but it caused everyone to look at Grant, while Holly dropped her napkin onto her steak knife and gathered it into her lap.

“What?” Grant replied, incredulously. “A weapon, did you say?”

“Only joking,” Holly replied.

“Why would I have a weapon?” Grant asked, as if he thought she were insane.

“Yes, Holly,” Ed said, “why would he? You seem to be very nervous, sweetheart.”

Holly turned to Ed. “I take it you’re fully informed of your son’s activities over recent days?”

“Why, of course,” Ed replied. “Enrico does only what I ask him to.” He turned to Trini. “And, Enrico, right now I’d like you to take Miss Barker back to her cottage.”

“Why?” Holly asked. She slipped the steak knife into her waistband under her jacket.

“Yes, why?” Grant echoed.

“Because my son has expressed an interest in having some time alone with Miss Barker,” Ed said.

Holly felt a wave of nausea.

“Enrico,” Ed said, “you may as well deal with Mr. Early, too,” Ed said.

Grant was on his feet, looking wary. He turned to face Trini.

Trini raised a hand containing a semiautomatic pistol and shot Grant in the chest. Grant flew backward onto the floor, knocking over his chair.

Barbara Pellegrino began screaming, and Holly got up and rushed around the table to Grant and bent over him. “Grant, Grant,” she was yelling.

Grant opened his eyes and winked at her, then closed them again. Then she realized there was no blood, just a neat hole in his shirt. She put her hand on his chest and felt the vest underneath his shirt.

Holly stood up and faced Trini, who was walking toward her, holding the weapon at his side. “You miserable son of a bitch!” she yelled at him. “You’ve killed him!”

Trini smiled and drew back his empty hand to hit her. Holly ducked, and Trini’s knees suddenly buckled as Grant reached up, grabbed his coattails, and pulled him off balance. She got ahold of his gun hand with both hands and held on for dear life. Then Grant got ahold of Trini’s belt and pulled him over on top of himself. Holly followed, falling on Trini. His gun went off.

There was a scream from behind her; the bullet had found its way to somebody, but Holly couldn’t see who. Grant was twisting Trini’s arm now, and Holly could let go with one hand. She felt for the heavy steak knife at her waist, got ahold of it and plunged it into Trini’s neck, twisting it and yanking it out the way she had been trained in the army. Blood began to spurt rhythmically from Trini’s jugular.

Grant got the gun free from him and was getting to his feet when a man with a shotgun stepped up and hit him across the back of his head with the butt of the weapon.

Where the hell had he come from? Holly wondered. He was pointing the shotgun at her now, motioning for her to drop the knife. She dropped it.

Willard Smith was sitting back in his chair, blood all over his chest, so Holly knew where the stray round had gone.

Ed Shine had run around the table and was kneeling at his son’s side. “What have you done?” he shouted at Holly.

“What he’s been doing to everybody else,” Holly said.

“Enrico,” Ed was saying, trying to stanch the flow of blood with his dinner napkin.

Trini’s eyes were fluttering, and he looked panicked, but it was clear to Holly that he was bleeding out very q