Page 5 of Silent Night

“Busy,” he repeats with a smirk. He finishes his agonizing study by glancing toward my suitcase. “Pleasetell me these are your gifts to me.” He bends, retrieving a pair of red, silk panties from my bag, and dangles them in front of my face.

My face probably goes as red as the underwear for how warm it suddenly gets, partly from embarrassment but mostly from rage. I reach for them, but he’s quick to snap his arm up, avoiding my hand. It forces me to stretch, but I quickly back down after weighing the pros and cons of getting them back. Get them back and probably show him more of my chest in the process versus letting him win and being able to stay covered.

He brings them back down slowly, holding them slightly off to the side so he can quickly lift them away again if I go for them. “These. I want these for my present.”

“Keep them,” I grit my teeth. Anything to get him to leave.

“Nah, you’re missing an important element.” He bends slightly, lining his face up with mine so I’m forced to see the malice glinting playfully in his eyes. “I want these on you. I want to remove them myself.”

“Ugh.” I snap my hand toward the silk again, but this time, he lets me have it, laughing. I shove away from him, keeping the panties, which now feel violated, close to me. “You’re disgusting, Bentley.”

He shrugs. “What? We’re not actually related.”

“Bentley—”

“God, you’re so fun to fuck with. Easy too.” He rolls his eyes, spinning on his heel as he heads back for the door. “Anyway, pizza will be here soon, so dress. Or don’t. I don’t mind either way.”

He shuts the door before I find something to throw at him.

THREE

SAINT

People are dumb.Instead of the house’s owners having a quiet conversation, they left that morning, multiple suitcases in tow as they loaded up in their BMW with more numbers on the trunk than I care to memorize, and the wife all but screaming their plans.

“I can’t wait to be on the beaches of Mexico by tomorrow!”

Luckily, I was nearby, continuing to stalk the house to ensure my Christmas Eve plans to break in go off without a hitch. But now, they handed me the gold key. Why wait until tomorrow when I can sneak in today, steal what I can, and escape? They don’t have surveillance cameras; I’ve peeked through their windows enough times to check, so maybe I’ll even camp out for a day or two, enjoying the warmth that privilege and wealth provides. Or I’ll take what I can tonight and return tomorrow for more, like the Grinch. Only, I won’t feel bad about stealing their Christmas when they’re off to have a different, tropical one after announcing it to the damn world.

It's like they’rebeggingto be robbed. Lucky for them, I’ll grant them that wish.

I return after the sun drops, skirting my way to the other side of the road and against the house, sticking to the shadows. They havea back door that leads to their kitchen, so it’ll be less conspicuous to jimmy that lock and slip inside.

The lights on the neighbours’ houses are dimmed, allowing me to sneak in undetected. It’s too chilly outside for people to be hanging around too. All are tucked inside, presumably asleep, since it’s past midnight. They need their rest so their greed can begin kicking off tomorrow, Christmas Eve, which is only an appetizer for the main course: the day after.

With a bobby pin and knife, I unlock the back door easily. Despite all these people’s money, they never have enough sense to install security cameras or better locks. Well, a few houses do, and they’re the ones I stay away from.

Warmth greets me as I enter. I step inside quietly, even though there’s no one here, peering through the dark before flicking on a light. A grand kitchen greets me. Shiny appliances, rows of spices on a rack above the counter, pots and pans hanging from hooks in the ceiling.

My stomach growls, reminding me of the last time I ate: last night. Much too long. If the residents of this place are gone on their sudden vacation, surely they forgot to clean everything out, which means by eating their food, I’m doing them a favour. Not like they’ll miss it.

Food. Warmth. And a comfortable bed for a day or two. Yep, I’ve chosen well.

I tread through the space, heading for the fridge first, suddenly eager to eat something other than whatever I steal. Fresh fruit, for one. I long for the taste of an apple again.

The fridge light illuminates the room, but as I turn around, the room grows even brighter from the overhead lights, and by the time I register what’s happening, it’s too late.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my house?”

I freeze, slowly unpeeling my fingers from the fridge’s handle, watching as food literally slips through my hands, and turn around, keeping the knife in view.

Standing in the entrance to the kitchen is a woman, probably around my age. Her dark curls are a mess, partially bound up on her head with more strands falling to her shoulder than what seems to have made it into the elastic. Her full, pouty lips are parted, halfway between fear and shock as she stands, frozen, her hand still on the light switch. Her eyes pin me from across the room and I’m taken right back to the first house I ever robbed, when a girl found me before allowing me to steal from her family.

The similarities of these two nights are disturbing. I slowly pace toward her, watching with a bit of a thrill as her eyes widen like a doe faced with a wolf.

When I’m within six feet from her, before she turns and bolts, I catch something beneath that fear: a bravado that’s kept her going. A hard swallow before she lifts her chin slightly, facing down what could very well be her death. She’s bold…just like she was when finding me four years ago.

“You,”I breathe.

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