Christmas From Hell by R. L. Mathewson Page B

caught red handed and they both knew it, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight and she…
     
    Crap!
     
    She didn’t want to discuss Duncan Bradford, the fact that he’d spent the night in her room last night, palming her breast or growling every time she moved so much as an centimeter away from him, or the fact that the breast that hadn’t received his attention was sore and ached and was a constant reminder of what happened last night.
     
    When she wanted to close her eyes in defeat and feel sorry for herself, she somehow found the willpower to sit there, holding her grandfather’s glare as the fact that she’d once again humiliated herself in front of Duncan raced through her mind, turning her stomach and making her wish that she could go home, curl up into a ball and devour a box of cupcakes, but she couldn’t do that without showing weakness to her grandfather, which she’d learned long ago was never a good idea.
     
    “ How many did you have?” she demanded in that tone she’d learned from him, the one that usually scared the hell out of everyone else, but simply made the old man’s lips twitch with amusement as he cocked his head to the side, studying her.
     
    “ What did Duncan say to you this morning?” he asked with an evil glint in his eye, letting her know that he wasn’t going down without a fight.
     
    “ Nothing,” she said casually, shrugging off his question like it didn’t matter to her that Duncan had practically jumped from her bed and ran for the door. The only time he’d acknowledged her was when he carefully raised her shirt and checked her wound, which was probably more out of habit than really caring if she was going to live or die.
     
    “ I see,” he said, pursing his lips up in thought as he continued watching her in that curious way of his that was going to earn him a bland salad and a glass of water for dinner.
     
    “ Good. Then can I get back to work?” she asked, looking pointedly at his chin where the evidence still lingered, reminding him that she had him dead to rights and they both knew it, but then again…
     
    So did he…
     
    “ Sure thing, baby girl,” he said with that warm smile that was starting to actually freak her out a bit, because this time she knew that he was up to something and it wasn’t going to end well for her.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Saturday, November 28 th .
     
    “ I’m sleeping!” Duncan snapped at the asshole, who’d just unceremoniously flipped the mattress he’d been tossing and turning on and dropped his ass on the carpeted floor of his makeshift attic bedroom.
     
    “ No, you weren’t,” Lucifer simply said with a bored sigh as he allowed the mattress to drop back in place and headed for the door.
     
    “ Was that really necessary?” he demanded as he rolled over, pressed his hand against the slight bump on his head, careful of his stitches as he glared at the blurry figure of his older brother as the prick headed for the door.
     
    “ Yes,” Lucifer said with absolutely no hesitation or remorse as he paused by Duncan’s bureau, grabbed the bottle of painkillers and tossed it at-
     
    “ Mother fucker!” Duncan snapped when the bottle hit him in the head, just below his stitches.
     
    “ Get your lazy ass up,” Lucifer said, opening the bedroom door.
     
    “ I’m supposed to be resting, asshole!” Duncan reminded him, immediately regretting raising his voice when the sound vibrated through his head and threatened to send him crawling towards the bathroom or the nearest trashcan.
     
    “ Yeah, well, you weren’t,” Lucifer said, sounding bored as he pulled his cellphone out of his back pocket, looked down at it, shook his head and muttered, “Fucking pain in the ass.”
     
    Duncan would have dismissed the action if it wasn’t for one thing, the way Lucifer’s eyes lit up and his lips twitched with amusement as he read the message. That told him everything that he needed to know.
     
    The asshole’s little