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Blanche hesitated. It sounded so easy when he said it. But it wasn’t. She had a point to make here. They had not treated her as they should have, plain and simple. They had all treated her like shit. Yet, they weren’t worthy to lick the heels of her $14,000 boots. She had been forced to mop, dust, clean dishes, and put up with stupid people. She and Stephen had to share a room and she wasn’t even given any sort of personal maid.

There was a fucking point to be made here.

These stupid people did not realize who she was! She was a shining daughter of the fucking damn state of Texas. She moved in circles with the gawddamn Hiltons and Donald Trump. She was a fucking somebody and they were fucking shitkickers.

“Just, please, put the gun down and let Jenni go,” Juan said softly.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Her infamous temper flared and before she realized what she was doing, she swung the gun around and shot Juan.

He staggered backwards, then collapsed against the wall.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Brewster demanded.

She turned to tell him to shut up.

Jenni’s head came up sharply, snapping back and bursting Brewster nose with a deafening thwack. Blood sprayed everywhere and Blanche ducked away, trying to avoid it. Brewster grunted and went down with a thud.

Blanche started to turn to bring the gun up when she felt something hard slam into her temple and she was sent spinning. The revolver slipped from her hand, then she landed on the disgusting, oily floor. Gasping, she tried to get up, but she was flipped onto her back and she saw a blur of long black hair and a pale face, then something hit her cheekbone with a sickening thud. Pain splintered her thoughts as she was pummeled into senselessness.

Her last real thought before the darkness washed over her was that she should have taken the pregnant woman instead.

5. Winter Sky Jenni staggered away from Blanche, her hands bloodied and her face splattered with red drops. Her hands were bruised, battered and her knuckles torn open, but she didn’t care. The bitch was down and not moving.

She reached over and grabbed Blanche’s fancy gun and pivoted on her heal to take aim at Ray and Brewster. But Brewster was unconscious and Ray was moving toward Juan.

“Stay away from him!” Jenni’s voice sounded faint and hoarse to her own ears.

“He’s shot. . . I. . . I. . . ” Roy faltered.

Jenni was crying, her tears hot on her face. She stumbled forward, her head throbbing. “Leave him alone!”

She regained consciousness after Blanche had shot her own husband.

Remaining limp, Jenni had waited for the right moment to try to escape.

Keeping her eyes slitted and watching through her hair, she had seen Juan get shot. It was then in a fit of anger and desperation that she had made her move.

Her head still hurt where she had rammed it into Brewster’s nose. In fact, her head felt huge and swollen and when she walked, she swayed. Blanche had nailed her pretty hard.

Juan looked so still where he lay slumped against the wall. Blood was pooling around his body and his shirt was stained red. Ray stood a few feet from him, looking unsure. Though he had a sidearm at his side, he made no move for it. Jenni staggered to Juan’s side. Falling to her knees, she whispered to him in Spanish.

Juan was barely able to lift his head. “Loca,” he barely managed to say.

Pointing the gun at Ray, Jenni struggled to get her sweater off.

“Look, let me go get help,” Ray said finally.

“Shut up!”

Juan’s hand feebly touched her leg and she looked at him, tears in her eyes, struggling to think straight.

“I’ll go get help,” Ray said again. “Look, I didn’t think Blanche would pull this shit. Let me go get help!”

Juan moaned and Jenni stroked his hair, trying to calm him. “Okay, go!

Go!”

Ray nodded and ran toward the door that would lead to the construction site.