Page 3 of Slaying for Santa
“What? Why?”
I glance back over my shoulder as I hear car doors slam shut.
“Me and your brother under the same roof unsupervised will end up like Nightmare on Elm Street… for him.”
Tillie laughs. “Don’t be so dramatic. You are both adults now. Surely you can get along for a few days until I figure out how to make a spell that stops a blizzard.”
“I just think it’s a better idea if I find a hotel to stay in. A five-star hotel with room service and a pool and?—”
“Okay, now you’re just being mean.” Tillie huffs, causing the speaker to crackle. “Please stay with Kit. He really is expecting you. And you know why he is the way he is. It’s nothing personal. Besides, he’s changed over the last couple of years since booting Rhonda to the curb. He has a little girl to raise now. His affliction with women has eased.”
“Idoubt that, Tills,” I remark, turning to watch the police car reverse out of the driveway with Rhonda in the back. “His demons and my demons… they don’t play well.”
“Pleeeaseeee,” she begs, and I roll my eyes.
“Fine. I’ll try. But don’t blame me when you get a call saying he’s been gutted like a fish and strung up by his intestines.”
“Hehe. I look forward to it.”
For a moment, I feel myself smiling… on the inside, of course.
“Well, gotta go and start annoying the hell out of your big brother. Enjoy the snow.”
Tillie starts whining again, but I hang up, knowing she won’t be offended.
She knows me. How I am. Not to take it personally.
I stand on the path outside a neighbouring house for a moment contemplating if I should ignore what I just said to Tillie and find myself a hotel.
But shit, I’m bored, and annoying Kit is fun, so maybe it won’t be so bad.
Making my decision, I walk back towards the house, pulling my bag up the small incline of the driveway before lifting it up the eight steps.
And yes, I counted. There are exactly eight.
The house… or rather mansion, it’s a mix of stone and render with dark framed windows, giving the exterior an expensive yet rustic feel.
The front door is huge. Wide and tall, painted black, with a Christmas wreath in the centre. Before I knock, I peek through the glass panel next to the door to see the rustic mood flows inside too, with dark raw timber framing the doorways and staircase, the walls a deep navy, almost black.
Shit. Kit has taste.
I’m about to knock when I spot a doorbell, so I press that instead, and a second later, a Christmas carol chimes inside.
My lips tug up. Holy shit. Kit is into Christmas.
The door swings open rather aggressively, and a bare-chested Kitson Hall stands before me, rippling muscles up his arms and well… most of what I can see, exuding strength and something a little more lethal given the deadly style of the ink travelling up one arm and disappearing over his shoulder.
“What?!” he snaps, his blue eyes, just like his sister’s, glaring at me with rage storming in them as some of his auburn hair falls in his eye. “Oh… sorry. I thought you were someone else.” He clears his throat, the anger falling from him like a switch has been flipped. “Can I help you?”
My lips are still turned upward in a slight smile, something that I don’t often do, but shit, this really is too amusing. He doesn’t even recognise me.
“I dunno, Kitty Kat. Can you help me?”
I pop my hip, crossing my arms over my chest, and I know he’s trying super hard not to look at my tits as my words sink in. And then, his nice guy persona falls away like he’s shed his skin, and his expression turns hard as a sinister smirk kicks up his lips.
“Belladonna.”
CHAPTER 2
