Page 40 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“You’re fucking crazy,” Grandpa bellowed as slugs pinged against his van. He kicked Sam off his feet.
Kaboom!The door to my apartment blew out.
Lucas jumped on top of me as flaming debris rained down on us.
“Can’t breathe,” I squeaked.
Lucas rolled off me. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a few new bruises. Dammit! They booby-trapped my apartment.”
Nate got to his feet. “Yep.” He pulled out his cellphone and walked a short distance away.
“We got damn lucky,” Lucas said, helping me up. “Dad’s gonna be pissed. I’ll call 9-1-1. You call Mom.”
“Me?” I squawked in horror.
The fury on Grandpa’s face was terrifying. “I’ll call her. Those bastards are going down.”
“Yes, they are.” I stared at the smoke and flames pouring out of my apartment. The way things were going, I was going to be living with my parents until I was sixty.
Edgar peeked out from under the van.
“You okay, boy?”
He woofed.
“In the van.” Edgar jumped in and I patted his head. “Good boy. Stay.”
“I think we need the fire department, but I don’t have my phone,” Bertha said, her voice shaking badly.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Lucas called them.”
Bertha shivered. “I hope you have renters’ insurance.”
“I do. I’m really sorry about all of this.”
She patted my arm. “It’s not your fault.”
“The hell it isn’t. You and Gemma are shit magnets,” Sam groused.
I winced. He was right. “Anyone need the paramedics?”
“No, your grandfather shielded me with his body,” Bertha answered. “He’s nice and firm too.”
Sam scowled at Grandpa. “Hands off. She’s my girl.”
“Is she?” Grandpa asked.
I really didn’t like the look in Grandpa’s eyes. The last thing we needed was Bertha and her menfolk hanging around the ranch.
In the distance sirens sounded.
“Everyone move to the pool area,” Lucas commanded. “The fire department needs room to work.”
I ushered Bertha and Sam over to the now empty pool. “Do you have a robe, Bertha?”
“Why?”
