the fuck?” Todd snarled. He threw a chloroform-soaked cloth at Arnie’s head as if a passing whiff was going to save his sorry ass.
Unaware who she was fighting, Summer punched him in the stomach and tried to run, but the third and most powerful explosion detonated and halted her escape with a thick, dense cloud.
Seconds later, raised voices and high-pitched screeching sent chills up and down his spine.
Shit. Something was going down either inside Summer’s guesthouse or in the backyard.
Without a second to spare, Arnie lunged. He took Summer’s arm and yanked her close. At the same time, he used his free hand to grab Todd’s neck and slam his head into the wall. He dropped to the floor like a rock.
Arnie never stopped moving and hauled Summer after him as he ran through the open door and into the backyard.
“Let go of me!” she screamed and fought like a hellion.
He didn’t have time to explain—not when he heard his father’s raised voice, a cackling laugh, and Stan’s angry snarl followed by a gunshot.
Dragging a spitting and snarling she-devil behind him, he rushed through the open door to the smoke-filled guesthouse. Without time to ascertain what was happening, he pinpointed his father and shoved Summer into his arms a split second before all holy hell exploded.
Giselle was visible through the smoky darkness. She was screaming craziness and waving a gun.
“Mom!” Stan hollered. “What the fuck?”
Arnie squinted and found his brother kneeling in the middle of the room. He had a wild look on his face and a large blood splotch staining the shirt on his shoulder.
In the split second it took Arnie to get the whole picture, Giselle went nuts. She saw him, picked up a dining chair, and flung it at his chest. He took the brunt of the impact but stayed standing.
“Goddammit, Giselle!” Ned Wanamaker hollered. His face was angry red, and he had a murderous glint in his eyes. “You shot your own son. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What?” Summer’s face was a mask of shock. “Who are you people?”
“Give me that baby,” Giselle snarled. Through the clearing smoke, she pointed the gun at Summer
Arnie flew into action. Moving with incredible speed, he came at Giselle with everything he had. She surprised him by not surrendering. Knowing she was trapped brought out the fight in her.
They got into a physical scuffle. Fueled by manic strength, she kept coming. He smacked the gun from her hand, but she jumped on him, slamming him backward into a wall. Up close and personal, the woman he always thought was crazy proved it tenfold. She scratched and bit. In the melee, she ripped off his mask.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed when his identity was revealed. “I hate you, you fucking piece of privileged shit.”
She shoved him sideways, banging his already injured hip against a solid cabinet. Barking with pain, he reached for her, ready to snap her in half like a twig when she picked up the gun and pointed it at his face.
“There is no end to how much I hate you, Darnell. You and your stuck-up family always treated me like dirt.”
“Because you are dirt!” he screamed angrily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He waved his hand at Stan. “You shot your own son? Who the fuck does that?”
“Stan was supposed to have a kid. Then that bastard holding the purse strings would never be able to get rid of me. It should have been Stan,” she screamed. “Not you.”
Unbelievably, the crazy bitch cocked the gun. He almost laughed. All he had to do was reach out with two fingers, touch her neck, and she’d be out cold. His cockiness disappeared when Summer growled, “No!” and broke free of his father’s restraint.
Everybody moved at once. An object swung, knocking Giselle to the side. She pulled the trigger, and a bullet whizzed past his face, hitting the framed picture of Tintagel, causing it to crash to the floor.
A free-for-all ensued. Summer dropped the lamp she used to hit Giselle. His father lunged, throwing his body weight against his ex-wife, dead center. Even after the witch hit the floor, she refused to give up.
Arnie jumped into the middle of the fracas, but it was Stan who wrestled the gun from his mother’s hands. She screeched vile ugliness and went even crazier. Somehow, she slithered from their grasp and immediately went after Summer.
He, Stan, and their father scrambled to their feet as the two women got