Christmas from Hell
Page 42
As expected, Grandpa cocked an eyebrow at that, trying to look innocent and intimidating all at once. It was seriously wasted on her, because they both knew that she would never make a threat that she wasn’t ready to follow through with, especially when it came to his health.
“Oh? And why would you do that?” he asked in that cold, crisp tone that had sent more than one busboy running, crying for his mother.
Instead of getting into an argument with him, she simply said, “Black Jack’s,” as she met his eyes in the mirror, daring him to try and deny it.
He met her glare with one of his own as he said, “You set me up.”
“Uh huh,” she said, returning her attention back to the decision at hand, which dress was she going to wear on her first date in three years.
“You did,” he bit out angrily, probably expecting her to cry or argue with him so that she’d miss her date, but that wasn’t happening.
Not tonight.
“You left the receipt in the van,” she said, before adding, “You wanted to get caught.”
When he opened his mouth, most likely to tell her some bullshit story like it wasn’t his, she added, “You paid with your credit card and signed the receipt.”
His mouth snapped shut as he considered her for a moment before saying, “You’re still not going.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, switching her attention back to the black dress, because if she was going to be honest, she’d admit that she really wanted to wear the black dress.
“Fine,” he bit out. “But you’re not wearing that dress.”
“Black it is,” she said with a smile, because he’d just made the decision so much easier for her.
“It’s freezing out,” he pointed out, clearly not happy with her choice.
“I’ll wear a wrap,” she pointed out, getting more excited with every passing second.
She was finally going on a date with the man of her dreams!
At least, she thought she was, but four hours later when it became obvious that he’d forgotten all about their date, she took off the dress that she’d been dying to wear, pulled on her favorite pair of worn jeans, shirt, and boots and decided to go tell a certain Bradford to go to hell.
*-*-*-*
Several hours earlier…
“You…mother…fuckers…,” he managed to get out on a slur as he took a swing at what he thought was one of his brothers and ended up face down on his bed and once he was there, he found that he couldn’t get up and he definitely needed to get up.
“You needed this, asshole,” Aidan said, sounding a hell of a lot braver than he had fifteen minutes earlier when he’d been screaming like a girl and begging their brothers and cousins to save him from the psychotic bastard as Duncan went to beat the shit out of the sneaky bastard for taking him by surprise and sticking a huge fucking needle in his ass.
“You haven’t slept in almost a week,” one of his other brothers said, but he couldn’t be sure which one since his head was spinning and he couldn’t really understand what they were saying anymore.
The only thing that he knew was that he was going to be late for his date and that would probably get him killed. For some reason the thought of the klutzy little Necie Dixon coming to kick ass made him smile as the medicine took over and dragged him under.
*-*-*-*
“Please state your name and business,” the ten-year-old boy who looked very familiar said as the front door swung open.
Instead of answering him, she narrowed her eyes on him and within seconds knew that she was dealing with the next generation of Bradford males.
“Necie Dixon,” she said, keeping her tone businesslike even though there was just something about this little boy that made her want to smile. “I’m here to see Duncan.”
Sighing heavily with a sad shake of his head, the boy said, “I’m sorry, but Duncan isn’t accepting visitors at the moment.”
“I see,” she said, looking past him to see all the large Bradford males standing guard, ready to stop her just in case she got past the boy. “And why is that?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified,” the boy said, crossing his small arms over his chest and mimicking the stance of all the large males behind him.
She sighed heavily in disappointment and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I’ll have to come back another time then.”
“I guess so,” the little boy said with a firm nod, really looking just too damn adorable.
“It’s too bad, because Duncan promised that I could use his kitchen to practice my new recipe for double fudge brownies, but if he’s busy…,” she said, purposely letting her words trail off with another lazy shrug as she turned to leave, but of course she didn’t make it very far before she was grabbed and dragged inside.
As she was carried towards the kitchen, she just prayed that she didn’t run out of cocoa powder before she got her chance to escape and go have a word with a certain Bradford.
*-*-*-*
Heart pounding against her chest, telling her that she needed to move her ass faster and demanding to know why she’d done something so foolish as to only make one pan of brownies when she knew the house was filled to the rafters with Bradfords, she practically dove for the attic door.
Trying not to panic, she quickly opened the door, shut it behind her and locked it. Not that it would save her, but it should buy her just enough time to do what she needed to do. As quietly as possible, she ran up the stairs and thanked God when she found the door leading directly to Duncan’s bedroom unlocked.
“That’s my brownie, you son of a bitch!” she heard someone shout from the vicinity of the kitchen, letting her know that they were at least all still contained on the first floor.
