Page 103 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

I take a step toward the car.

The door opens, and the driver steps out and to the front of the car. “Flynn McAllister, I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this.”

Even in the dark, the glint of the headlights off the gun aimed at me blazes like the sun, but I force myself to look away from it into the face of the man pointing it at me. The familiar face.

Oh, fuck!

I shift to make sure I’m completely covering Rachel. “Mr. Kelly? What are you—”

He waves the gun around while always keeping it pointed in my direction. “You ruined my life, McAllister.”

I raise my hands. “Dustin, we can talk about this.”

That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?

If somebody threatens you, you use their first name, talk to them calmly, and tell them whatever you need to in order to save your life. At least, that’s what every show I’ve ever seen about these situations says.

“The time for talking is over, McAllister. I tried to tell you. I tried to tell you how my life was falling the fuck apart because of what you did.”

The multiple calls. The messages. So many damn messages.

I ignored them, because every time we talked, it was the same damn thing. We had the same conversation over and over, and there was nothing I could change. “Now, Dustin. You knew that investing that much in those stocks was risky. We went over it several times before you made the call to dump into them instead of something more stable. You knew there was a chance this could happen.”

He wipes water from his face with one hand while keeping the gun pointed at me with the other. Rachel vibrates behind me, her teeth chattering while she clings to the back of my soaked shirt.

Dustin growls. “Don’t try to blame this on me, McAllister. You’re the one who convinced me. You’re the one who pushed me to put in my money. You’re the one who did it all.”

He’s fucking nuts.

I bite my tongue. There’s no point in arguing with somebody who’s this crazy. Someone who is so delusional they can’t even remember what actually happened.

He insisted on risky investments. He wanted big money fast. That only comes with big risks. I never hid anything from him or misrepresented what we were doing. That’s not the kind of business I run.

The gun wavers slightly, but he re-centers it on me. “I lost it all because of you. My money. My business. My house and then my fucking wife.” He chuckles mirthlessly. The dead hollow sound sends ice through my body. “She took the kids. She said it wasn’t safe to be around me anymore.” He steps forward and points the gun at me. “And it’s all your fucking fault. You’re nothing but a whore, seducing people with promises and then fucking them blind.”

His anger only appears to be growing as his hold on sanity seems to be slipping further away. It’s a recipe for disaster and I’m in the line of fire.

I reach back, unclasp Rachel’s hands from my shirt, and step forward toward him. If I’m ever going to get that gun out of his hands, I’m going to have to get closer. “We can fix this, Dustin. You can come to my office, and we’ll figure it out.”

“There’s no fixing it, McAllister. What’s done is done. Once I kill you, I’m leaving this fucking world, too.”

Christ. He’s suicidal.

That’s never a good sign.

All he can see is his current pain.

I take advance toward him, and he steps into the middle of my driveway, only a few feet away from me. If he fires at this range, even if he isn’t a good shot, he’ll easily hit me and do some major damage or kill me. “Please, Dustin, we can talk about this.”

He snarls at me and strengthens his stance. “Save your talking for the big man upstairs. You’re gonna have to answer to Him.” He aims the gun squarely at my chest. “Goodbye, Flynn McAllister. May you rot in fucking Hell!”

* * *

RACHEL

“You first, asshole.”

I swing my makeshift weapon and smash it against the side of his head as hard as I can, channeling everything Bash ever taught me about inflicting the most damage.

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