Page 11 of Unwrapping Deviance

“Did you want something from here?” Daniel mutters. “A souvenir?”

A muscle coils in Christian’s jaw, a knot as hostile as the fury behind his eyes. “Fuck you, Daniel.”

Unfazed, Daniel shrugs. “Then let it go. We’re only here to get an idea of the damage. If we can wrap it up by the end of theweekend, great. Otherwise, we’re not here to skip down memory lane. As for Mira, she’s my responsibility. I’ll keep her safe.”

I remember his comment about staying close and felt a shudder of unease slip down my spine. How dangerous was this place? Were there that many bears?

Or mountain lions.

I haven’t had a chance to properly examine the row of pictures lining the wall up the stairs and down the hall. I know my new bedroom had several pinned up that I pulled off and gently set aside.

They creeped me out.

Each one had — I’m assuming — Ryan MacAllister in them, posing with, on, holding, standing on something. He just seems to be everywhere. Like the whole house was converted into a museum in his honor.

But the ones in the bedroom were body size. Full portraits of him standing wide on a rock in front of a roaring waterfall clad in jeans and a flannel pullover. Him holding a giant, gold trophy, sweaty and grinning wide at the camera. The one that made me cringe the hardest was the one of him standing with a rifle over one shoulder, dressed in camo, pressing a muddy boot into the neck of a mountain lion. Two smaller bundles of fur tucked almost protectively under their mother. All their rich, golden coats splattered with blood.

That one I turned right around to face the wall.

Daniel rarely, if ever, brought up his dad. Seeing Ryan’s life splayed through the years via photos, I’m beginning to think he was a dick. Arrogant. Self-righteous. There’s a cocky twist in his face that gives my stomach the heaves.

Daniel and Christian have his face, I will admit that. That sexy, rugged jawline and sharp cheekbone. They have his broad, lumberjack build with the wide chest and long, toned legs. They have the same warm, golden eyes, but Ryan’s is ... cruel. Evil.

Ridiculous, I know. The man is dead. I shouldn’t be thinking so horribly of him, but his house of memories is making it very hard.

I definitely didn’t hesitate stripping the bedding and replacing it with a fresh set from the hallway closet.

No offense to Ryan MacAllister, but I don’t know if they were changed after the last time he slept in there, but I’m not sleeping in his juices.

Besides, Daniel said the nurse stopped coming after Ryan died so odds are they were the same sheets Ryan used last.

“So, why haven’t you fucked her yet?”

The question is so out of left field, so offensive and rude that I’m not quick enough to stifle my choked gasp. The idiot sound detonated the silence the bomb had created and both heads pivoted up in my direction simultaneously, capturing me in the golden pools of tempting honey.

I should probably say something. Act outraged at the very most, but I’m staring down at the pair with a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide.

Christian smirks like my shock amuses him. He digs long, ring studded fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and rocks back on the heels of his boots. His sly gaze sweeps over to his brother who has yet to move.

Unlike Christian, Daniel’s not amused. His lips are pulled tight in disapproval as he stares up at me like this is somehow my fault.

“I didn’t...” I began only to fall short because I don’t know what I didn’t.

I didn’t start it?

I didn’t eavesdrop?

I’m honestly more interested in his answer because his brother apparently also thinks he should have fucked me by now.

Daniel exhales the growl in his chest and turns to his brother. I think for a panicked second, he’s going to hit Christian, but he mutters, “We’re going into town for supper.”

That wipes the smirk as effectively as any smack.

“Which town?”

Daniel’s impatience peaks. “Stop acting like an asshole. You know which town.”

“No, I don’t because the one I’m thinking—”

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