Page 96 of Pretty Threats

“What the fuck?” Killian says with a scowl as he pushes up and stands.

The pounding stops and then resumes as he’s pulling on his jeans. I start to scramble into my clothes, too.

He grabs a gun from the drawer in the coffee table that I didn’t even realize was there. My jaw drops, but I continue dressing.

He glances back at me as he strides to the front door. “Stay back. If I make a fist with my left hand, that’s a signal for you to go into the bedroom and out the window.”

“I—”

“Take my keys,” he says, nodding at where they rest on the coffee table.

My heart hammers. I can’t help him if there’s someone dangerous at the door, but I also don’t want to leave him. His suggesting I take his Corvette to escape is an ominous sign. He doesn’t let anyone drive his car.

The knocking resumes as I pick up Killian’s keys with shaky fingers.

He reaches the door and looks out. “What the fuck?” His arm drops to his side, the gun pointing at the floor.

Killian yanks the door open, but I can’t see who’s there. “What happened? You’ve been shot?”

---