Killer Kisses // h.s au

twelve. Exposed

Exposed

Smoke poured from my mouth as I leaned over the balcony, admiring the serene view ahead of me. It overlooked the path Liam and I had raced down in my initiation not too long ago. Ripping the cigarette from my lips, I downed a swig of my vodka straight from the bottle and attempted to block out the screams from downstairs. I had no idea what the hell the guys were getting up to down there, but all I knew is they had been screeching their lungs out with electrified hysteria for the past twenty minutes. It set me on edge and the thought of heading downstairs to discover the source of their excitement caused nerves to bubble in my stomach like acid. I was adamant to keep myself isolated as I deleted yet another text from Boss without bothering to read it.

Just as I was placing my phone back onto the metal table, it blared out the obnoxious ringing that, over time, had tempted me to rip my hair out from the roots. My thumb hovered over the decline button, before it paused in its tracks when I realised it was from an unknown caller. Was this just Boss playing a trick on me? No, no, it wasn't – I knew his number off by heart. Reluctantly, I hit the answer button and held the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"

Heavy breathing stemmed from the other line before an unfamiliar voice spoke. "Look down."

I frowned but, nevertheless, glanced down over the edge of the balcony. My gaze immediately landed on an unidentifiable figure standing on the path. Even though they were too far away for me to detect their face, they were clearly looking at me. I straightened my posture, perplexedly watching on. Their elbow was bent, arm lifted to their head. They were on the phone.

To me.

"Who are you?" Sternly, I demanded an answer, eyes zeroed in on the person. I could tell from their frame and voice that they were a male, but the rest was a mystery.

"Unlock the door and let me in," he swerved away from my question.

"Absolutely fucking not. Who are you?" Setting my bottle down, I leaned further forward over the railing in my effort to capture a closer look. He appeared seemingly young from his stance, but nothing else was detectable. My cigarette, still balanced between my teeth at the corner of my mouth, was gradually burning out.

"I'm not here to cause problems, Hunter. We need to talk," his deliberate dodges of my question were aggravating me to no end.

"Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to let a stranger into my home? A stranger who knows my name? I find your underestimation of my intelligence rather insulting, sir."

"Hmm...big words for a small girl. I can see why you're so reluctant to open the door, Hunter, but don't you think it's a little irrational considering there are five boys downstairs all armed with guns? And not to mention the fact that you can certainly pack a punch when needed. What's the worst I can do?"

"How do you know all this?" I hissed, pressing the end of my cigarette into the ashtray situated on the metal table.

"Come on, Hunter, I'm beginning to grow impatient. Just open the door and I'll explain then. Even bring your gun if that will reassure you."

Without replying, I ended the call and, stuffing my phone into my pocket along with my gun, swung the glass door open. I departed from the balcony and slowly headed downstairs. The boys continued to shout, thus remained unaware of my presence. Still, I was unwilling to discover what had them so hyped, therefore briskly strode straight past the living room and to the front door. I unlatched the chain and pulled the door towards me.

Just as I had anticipated, a man stood there. I was, however, surprised at how professional he looked. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, clad in a black suit. He was tall and well-built, with a mess of ebony hair slicked back from his forehead. His dark hair, brows and lashes were an awe-striking contrast to his ice-blue eyes. He was undeniably attractive, which only succeeded in puzzling me all the more as to how he knew my name. He didn't seem like the sort of man that would associate himself with my sort of occupation or even lifestyle.