Christmas from hell, p.2
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       Christmas from Hell, p.2
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         Part #7 of Neighbor from Hell series by R. L. Mathewson

  walking disaster that lived next door.

  “Sir,” he said tightly, shifting to the side to come between the incredibly pissed off man in front of him and the naked couple cowering on the bed behind him.

  Not that he could really blame him, Duncan absently thought as he shifted to the left, wondering when the police were going to finally show up so that they could take over and he could put an end to this fucked up day from hell.

  “How could you do this to me?” the man wielding the large knife shouted, sounding more hysterical with every passing second, which Duncan knew from experience was not a good thing.

  “Son, now calm down,” the elderly man trembling on the bed behind him said, temporarily distracting Duncan as his words registered.

  There was no fucking way that-

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, Dad! You fucked my fiancé!”

  Okay, perhaps there was a chance that this could get more awkward, he realized as the understandably pissed off man lunged to the left, desperate to get his hands on his father or the bitch that had cheated on him. Duncan wasn’t sure which one this guy was more pissed at, but it didn’t matter. It was Duncan’s job to stop him before he did something stupid that he’d regret later.

  Praying that this didn’t end with him landing in the Emergency Room tonight getting stiches, or worse, Duncan grabbed the man by his arm, twisted it and forced him to drop to his knees while he applied just enough pressure to make the man drop the knife.

  “Ow! Get the hell off me!”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Get your hands off my son!” the elderly man snapped, reminding him just how stupid people could be.

  “Get back, sir,” he said calmly as he kicked the knife to the opposite side of the room and forced the hysterically sobbing man to the ground.

  “Get your fucking hands off my son!” the elderly man said, coming over to pull him off his son, but Duncan had had more than enough bullshit to last him a lifetime tonight.

  “Back the fuck up, sir!” he snapped at the asshole, truly not caring if this ended with a write-up or a fucking suspension, because he refused to add wrestling with a naked old man to the ground to his day.

  Today he’d had more than enough bullshit to last him several lifetimes.

  “You can’t talk to me like that!” the old man said in outrage while the other moron tried to get out of his hold, most likely to throttle his father, which once again, Duncan really couldn’t blame him for.

  “I just did, sir. Now step back and put some clothes on,” he said, turning his attention to the woman pouting on the bed, “you too.”

  “You can’t-”

  “Now!” he snapped when the asshole opened his mouth to argue with him, startling the old man enough to get him to shut the hell up and do as he was told.

  Duncan just needed to keep this situation calm and then he could-

  “What is going on in here?” an elderly woman demanded from the doorway.

  He opened his mouth to yell for his partner when everything went to hell.

  “Jane, I can explain,” the elderly dumbass said, yanking up his pants just as the woman on the bed said, “We’re having a baby!”

  And just like that, his night got a hundred times worse.

  *-*-*-*

  “Is there a reason why you’re standing there, staring out the window and watching the neighbors? Are we preparing to kill them and drag them down to the basement and bury them alive?” Grandpa asked, making her smile despite the butterflies going wild in her stomach as she searched for his truck.

  “No,” she said, rolling her eyes as she turned around to find her grandfather perusing the sweets that she’d worked all day making. “You know that you’re not allowed anything sweet.”

  “It’s Thanksgiving,” he murmured with a dreamy little sigh as he stared down at the orange and yellow cupcakes that she’d just finished frosting.

  “So?” she said, deciding that this was probably a good time to place the covers on the food and set them carefully in the cart.

  “So, it means that I can indulge a little bit,” he said with a slight pout that had her rolling her eyes, because he should really have known better than to try to bullshit her by now.

  “No,” she said, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss his whiskered cheek, “it really doesn’t.”

  “Well, it should,” he said, heavily as he gave the platters of cupcakes, brownies and cookies one last glance of longing and reached for the bowl of fruit that she kept well stocked for him.

  “Tell that to your doctor,” she said with a wink as she grabbed a tray of extra large double chocolate chunk cookies and placed them on the cart’s bottom shelf.

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t going to call my doctor anymore.”

  “I crossed my fingers,” she admitted with a shrug as she grabbed a tray of double chocolate brownies with fudge frosting and placed it on the next shelf.

  Somehow he managed to narrow his eyes even further. “You’re fired,” he said tightly, making her roll her eyes, because really, that was just never going to happen.

  “Uh huh,” she murmured absently as she glanced around the kitchen, wondering where that last tray of cupcakes had disappeared to when she realized that her grandfather was leaning back against the pantry doors, trying to avoid making eye contact with her.

  “Really?” she asked with a sad shake of her head.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, managing to keep a straight face.

  “I don’t have time for this,” she said, shaking her head in annoyance as she walked over, grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle pull, which did absolutely nothing since he outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.

  Closing her eyes in defeat, she said, “Move or I’m calling your doctor right now and telling him that you’re trying to eat junk food again.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  She opened her eyes and met her grandfather’s hard grey eyes head on, grey eyes that had been known to make grown men cry, and matched it with a glare of her own. She was the only one, besides her grandmother that is, whom he couldn’t intimidate.

  He’d tried.

  God, how he’d tried, but since she was a baby she’d always managed to give it right back to him without hesitation, which was probably why she’d always had a special place in his heart. Well, normally she did, but not right now since she was coming between him and sweets.

  “Am I?” she asked, cocking a brow in challenge, because they both knew that she wouldn’t hesitate calling his doctor and telling on him if he kept pushing her.

  A little muscle in his jaw began to tick, which really wasn’t a good sign. But, then again she wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else was. Granted, most people had a good reason to be afraid of her grandfather. Even though he was in his sixties, you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He was still physically fit, six-two, two hundred pounds of muscle, and a retired Marine Drill Sergeant. He had very little patience for stupidity and never gave anyone a second chance. If you crossed him or someone he loved, Heaven help you, because no one else would.

  He was also about three-dozen cookies away from becoming a diabetic or having another heart attack.

  That muscle in his jaw jumped double time as he glared down at her. “I’m fine,” he finally growled.

  Well, snarled really, obviously making one last attempt to get her to walk away and leave him in peace so that he could indulge his sweet tooth.

  “Then those two heart attacks meant what exactly?” she asked, standing her ground.

  “They were nothing,” he said tightly, clearly on the verge of giving up.

  “Uh huh,” she said, gesturing for him to move aside so that she could grab the last tray.

  “I knew it was a mistake to teach you how to talk,” he said with one last glare as he walked over to the fruit bowl, grabbed an apple and took a large, unsatisfying bite.
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  “I love you, too, Grandpa,” she said with a chuckle as she opened the pantry door and-

  Sighed heavily with disappointment.

  “Really?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she stared at her grandfather’s stash.

  “I don’t know how those got in there,” he said in a monotone voice as he took another bite of his apple.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you have no idea how two dozen donuts from our bakery ended up in the pantry,” she said, chuckling because there was just something so endearing about a man like him trying to talk his way out of trouble.

  “I really don’t.”

  “I’m sure that you don’t,” she said, chuckling as she loaded the final tray onto the cart. Standing up, she sighed with relief. “It’s ready,” she said, gesturing to the cart in question with a sweep of her arms, relieved that it was finally done so that she could call it a night.

  Mid-bite, her grandfather paused and stared at her blankly. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because you’re supposed to take it next door,” she reminded him as she reached back and undid her apron.

  “No, I’m not,” he said, looking mildly confused.

  “Yes, you are,” she said, in absolutely no mood to play this game with him, because they both knew that she would never willingly go next door.

  “I don’t remember discussing this.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she considered her grandfather. “You asked me to do this as a favor for Danny and Jodi. You said that you would bring the food next-door when it was done.”

  He shrugged, as he shifted his focus back to the apple in his hand and admitted, “I lied.”

  Chapter 2

  “Did you really tell a sixty-five year old woman to, and I’m quoting here, ‘Shut the fuck up?’” his captain asked as he looked up from the incident report in his hands to shoot Duncan a questioning glance.

  “No, sir,” he said as he shifted on the stretcher, trying to get comfortable, which he already knew from experience was impossible. “I told her husband to shut the fuck up, sir.”

  “I see,” the captain said, glancing back down at the incident report, but not before Duncan saw his lips twitch with amusement.

 
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