Page 31 of Better Watch Out

When he starts walking, I don’t know what to do other than follow him. It’s not like I want to stay out here, especially with the temperature dropping with the lack of sun in the sky. As we walk, I seem to notice the cold even more, as if somehow it’s dropping significantly with every step I take up to the back deck.

“You saw me from your window, didn’t you?” I ask quietly, waiting for him to slide open the door. Fletcher doesn’t reply. Not at first, while he taps his boots off on the track of the sliding glass, being more thorough than I usually am. But when he gives methe look, I follow suit, only to take them off as soon as we get inside.

My toes curl against the hardwood of the dining room, and I set my boots down on the mat by the door made just for that purpose. The only spot left is between Boone’s and Fletcher’s boots, and mine look so much smaller, less intense than theirs for some reason.

I can’t help but wonder if these are the boots they wore to kill those hikers. If I pick them up, will I find blood in the grooves on the bottom? Or have they been scrubbed so clean, the only thing I might find is the very faint whiff of bleach from the itty-bitty lines in the surface of the soles?

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I turn without realizing Fletcher is so close behind me. It pulls a gasp from my throat and he steps forward, pushing me back against the glass. “You know, I sort of thought that earlier this morning would be enough. ThatI could play with you and be so sweet and make you see I’m not the monster you think I am.”

“If it helps, I think Boone is a monster, too,” I reply wryly, biting my lip.

Fletcher tilts his head from one side to the other, thinking. “Yeah, maybe,” he agrees. “But you don’t look at him the way you look at me. You’re notafraidof him the way you’re afraid of me. Why is that, Conor?” He reaches out to tilt my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Why are you so much more afraid of me than our dear brother, hmm?”

“It’s weird when you refer to us as actual siblings. You know that right? Especially after…” I trail off, suddenly shy about admitting it. But it’s the wrong move, and Fletcher’s eyes darken with predatory humor.

“After I spanked your pussy and we made you come on our fingers?” he supplies oh-so-helpfully. “Well, if it’s awkward after that…I wonder how it’ll be after I’ve fucked you and made you come on my cock, hmm? If I call yousister darlingwhen you’re full of my cum and can’t walk, will it make you cringe?” I jerk back, nearly hitting my head on the glass as he follows me, not giving me any space. “How long do you think it’ll be until I can make you like it when I remind you that we’refamilywhile my cock’s buried in that pretty cunt of yours?”

“Stop,” I breathe, closing my eyes so I can’t see his piercing blue eyes inches from mine. “Fletcher, come on. I won’t go in the shed or look at the photos, okay? So juststop.”

“Fine.” I’m surprised when he pulls away from me, letting me step away from the cool glass. “But you’re helping me with Boone’s present. I got some lights at the store when I was taking Sitka home yesterday. You remember how much he loves Christmas lights being up, right?” He’s all business now, like he’s completely moved past the shed incident. But I don’t believe it.

“I don’t know why I’m more afraid of you,” I admit as he turns to walk away. “It’s just something about you. Like, the way you always pause and seem to really consider what you’re doing. The way you never get mad, and you never let anyone get the better of you. Boone is easy to piss off, and he’s pretty transparent. I know what to expect with his moods.” Tapping my toes against the floor under me, I fight not to fidget more than that. “So, I don’t know, I guess it’s just fear of not being able to read you. Maybe it’s just me, okay? Maybe I’m just unnerved by stuff like that.”

Fletcher studies me, his blue eyes as frigid as the snow outside. “It’s not just you,” he says at last, his smile fading. “And you’re right to be more afraid of me than Boone. He never would’ve killed those hikers on his own. He had fun, don’t get me wrong. But it wasn’t his idea. Wasn’t his plan.”

Somehow that doesn’t surprise me whatsoever.

“So you got Boonelights?” I ask, sinking down onto the floor in front of the sofa. Fletcher picks up a plastic bag from the coffee table, setting two boxes of multicolor LEDs on top of it. “That’s sort of a weird present, don’t you think?”

“Not really.” Fletcher shrugs and unboxes the lights, plugging them into the wall before coming to sit down on the couch beside me. He plugs the second strand into the first, giving him atonof length to work with.

“And you’re just going to…leave them here? On the couch for Boone to?—”

“Take off your clothes.” The words are so casual as they leave him, and I turn slowly to face Fletcher, my brows lifting incredulously toward my bangs.

“Would you like to repeat that?”

“Not really. But I can, if you really need me to.” He doesn’t look at me as he wraps the lights around his arm, checking thebox one more time. “Or I can do it for you, but you won’t like that as much.”

I don’t move. Belatedly I notice Sitka is back in her kitchen jail, and I should’ve realized I wasn’t getting away with my little investigation so easily.

Crap.

“Why do you want me to take off my clothes?” My words are slow and measured, and I shift to sit up on the couch beside him, though I hope that’s not an admission of fear or acquiescence.

“Because you’re in trouble, I have an idea for a present, and because I told you to. Now, do you want to take them off like the good girl you can be sometimes, or shall I pin you down, rip them off, and punish you again?” When he turns to look at me, he grins a very jovial, amicable smile.

“God, you’re the worst.” I hesitate for a second longer, half tempted to tell him tomake me. But I’m afraid he really will, and I know he isn’t bluffing when he says he’ll punish me. With my ass still sore and my pride still bruised, I make the decision which will hopefully make my life easier today.

Raising my hands in surrender, I stand up and strip out of my layers, until I’m left in my pants and t-shirt. That’s where I hesitate, and I look down at Fletcher again, silently asking him if Ireallyhave to do this.

“Come on, princess.” He gestures dismissively at me. “Or do you need myhelp?”

That sounds like a threat.

With nervous, clumsy fingers I pull my shirt off, dropping it on the couch with my other layers. Then I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my sweatpants, biting my chapped lips as I hesitate.

“You get until I’m done wrapping these around my arm before I decide you need help.” Yet again he doesn’t look at me ashe says it. He’s just socasualwith his threats in a way I refuse to admit is hot.

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