The Hunter's Angel

They're Watching You

I tossed my keys onto the entryway table and kicked off my shoes, sighing in relief as I plopped down onto the couch.

Today could not have dragged on any longer.

30 minutes into statistics, Kat and I had realized that staying up until 2 AM watching The Notebook wasn't the best idea. We had spent the better half of class nodding off to our professor's droning voice, and the day only got worse once I realized I had two more lectures to attend after.

Add the hour-long city traffic I got stuck in on my way home, and it was safe to say that I was burned out.

All I wanted to do was pull on some sweatpants, gorge on leftover pizza, and take a well-deserved nap. Maybe even read a little.

The clock on my oven read 5:00 pm and I groaned inwardly. I wasn't going to get to do any of that, because I had a date to get ready for.

The word sounded funny in my head. Date.

Matt from the internship had asked me out to dinner tonight, and I had said yes. It was definitely not the first response that came to mind. My inclination, as always, was to just come up with an excuse for why I couldn't go. The whole idea of first dates was always so awkward to me, that I usually tried to avoid them at all costs.

So, when Matt texted me this morning asking if I was free to go out to dinner, I instantly typed out some crappy apology, dismissing the invite. But right before I hit send, Hunter came to mind. Specifically, the very detailed dream I had of him, consisting of all the...detailed things he had done with me.

And I don't know what came over me, but I had this sudden urge to say yes to Matt. It was as if I was desperately searching for some sense of normalcy, something to get my mind off of Hunter and all the things he made me feel. Both good and bad.

Maybe, just maybe, I thought I could see something I liked in Matt, and I could finally get Hunter's stormy eyes out of my head.

And just like that, my fingers deleted the sorry excuse, agreeing to the dinner.

I'm sure Matt was pretty taken aback by my response. He had asked me out in the past, and I always jokingly turned him down. It had become customary at this point for him to hit on me and for me to reject him.

If he was surprised, he hid it well, shooting me a message that he would meet me at the restaurant around 6:30. Matt knew better than to suggest picking me up, seeing as I always needed to be the one in the driver's seat.

I had control issues. So what?

The restaurant was some fancy French place over on Wilshire that was surely going to charge a pretty penny for some kid-sized portions.

With a grumble, I forced myself to get off of the couch, scuffling over to the kitchen to make a quick cup of coffee. It was the only way I was making it through the night.

Peering out the windows as I downed the steaming cup, perplexity swarmed me when I noticed two cars parked outside my place.

The first one was the Cadillac that I was accustomed to, the stupid guys that Hunter had watching me day and night.

The other car, however, was what seemed to be an insanely detailed Rolls Royce, with tinted windows that were well past the legal shade.

I wouldn't have thought anything of it, except that I was almost certain that same car was in the parking lot at UCLA today, a couple of spots away from where I had parked.

I mean, it wasn't every day you saw a ride like that. Kind of hard to forget.

Was Hunter having two different men following me? That was a little excessive.

Sure, I might have been dodging his messages after spending the night at his place, but did that really warrant having two cars stalking my every move?

Frustration overtook my perplexity. It was bad enough being followed 24/7 by some seriously questionable drug runners, and now Hunter had the audacity to have more people watching me? As if I was some psycho on the loose - when it was very evident that he was the one with violent tendencies.

Fuck that. Snatching my phone off the counter, I dialed the bastard's number. He wasn't getting away with this shit anymore.

The phone barely made it past the first ring and Hunter picked up.

"My, my. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Believe me," I snapped, "it's no pleasure."

Laughter sounded from my phone. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Yeah asshole, we're feisty. Who the fuck do you think you are, sending two cars to stalk me? Wasn't one enough?"

Silence rang on the other end. He said nothing for a moment, and then his voice came through, low and deadly serious. "What did you just say?"

I paused, unsure of my next words. I had never heard him speak like that, not a drop of pleasantness in his tone.

"You heard me," I remarked, though I was pretty sure it came out a little shakier than I intended.

"Describe the car for me."

"Uh-" What was going on? "It's a souped up Rolls Royce."

"Do you see a design on the rims?"

I squinted, trying to get a better look. "I think there's some sort of skull with...are those guns around it?" I couldn't really make it out.

More silence.

"Hunter, why are you acting weird?"

"Angel, where are you right now?"

There was no mistaking the graveness in his tone. "I'm at my place, why?" My pulse raced in anticipation.

"Shit - fucking hell. Okay, I can't get there right now, I'm in the middle of something, but just keep the doors locked and I'll send one of my guys up to keep watch until I can come."

My heart was now pounding. "Hunter, what the fuck is going on?"

"Layla, just stay inside until someone comes. I'll get there when I can."

"Hunter, you're freaking me out."

He sighed anxiously. "I didn't send two cars."

"What do you mean?" I was pretty sure my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

"I mean," he asserted, "that those aren't my guys watching you."

My heart was no longer bursting out of my chest. It had fallen straight down to my stomach. "Who the fuck is it?" I whispered in shock.

"Layla-"

"Who the fuck is it?" I demanded stronger.

"It's the cartel that killed my father. They're watching you."

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