Page 7 of Blood
“More like John Wayne Gacy,” Sam quips.
“Hey!” Mom, Dad, and Michael admonish.
“That monster did more than kill people. That’s not funny, Samantha. Apologize to your brother. Now!” Mom demands.
Stunned silence fills the room. A Helen Cromwell outburst never happens because the woman is a saint. Literally, she puts up with my brothers and me.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha whispers, her eyes focused on me. “Really. It was a joke. You’re not an animal.”
She means it; I can tell. I give her a small smile to let her know we’re okay. If only she knew how many people I’ve killed over the years.
“You do eat like one, though.” She smirks.
There’s my girl.
“Samantha!” Dad admonishes again.
Grinning, I wink.
“As long as I don’t look like one.”
“Nuh-uh.” Shelby shakes her head. “Too handsome.”
“Thank you, Shelby,” I say sweetly, turning to her.
She shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s true.”
“He knows.”
I grin at Sam’s dry tone and raise my hand over the sofa for a high five from Shelby, my gaze never leaving Samantha, not until I feel cotton on my palm.
What the fuck?
A laugh bursts out of me, taking the last of my unease when I look down to see Shelby has lifted her foot to high-five my hand.
“I’m not sitting up.” She shrugs.
I wrap my hand around her foot before she can pull back and give it a little shake.
“So what was this nonemergency, emergency?” I ask, turning to my dad with a raised brow.
“I need you to watch your sister and Shelby for a few days.”
My brows pull into a deep frown. “Last I checked, Samantha was a grown woman.” I make a big deal of looking over at her. “Yep, still grown.”
My mom tuts and then stands before making her way to three duffel bags sitting by the stairs.
“Is there a threat I don’t know about?” I ask my dad. Before he can answer, I look back at Samantha. “Are you okay?”
Sam nods, saying nothing. That alone sets an internal alarm off.
What the fuck am I missing?
“There have been a few burglaries in town over the past week,” Dad mutters distractedly as he takes six Tupperware containers and puts them into a cooler bag while Mom goes back to the fridge for more.
“Okay,” I sigh, stretching out the word.
“So I need you to babysit,” he says like it’s obvious.
