Slaying for Santa (Festive & Filthy Treat #1)

Chapter 1

BELL

I jerk forward in my seat as the driver hits the brakes to see flashing blue lights up ahead.

“Uhhh, Miss. I think the police are at your destination.” The driver’s eyes flick up to his rearview mirror to lock with mine.

I just nod as the newsreader on the radio speaks of another victim being found in a Melbourne hotel room, pinning it on the serial killer they have dubbed, The Seduction Slayer.

Jesus, could they think of something with a bit more creative flair?

“I’ll get out here,” I state, unclipping my seatbelt and opening the door.

The driver rushes out too, popping the boot and retrieving my suitcase for me, standing it on the path.

“Have a good day. Enjoy your Christmas in Sydney.” He smiles, and after enduring the crappy budget flight from Melbourne to Sydney, all I can manage is another nod.

And there it is. The frown.

I could tell him I’m smiling on the inside, but I think that will just confuse him more. People don’t tend to understand people like me.

I’m too blunt. Too emotionless. Too honest. Too scary.

I actually don’t mind that last one.

They should be scared.

The driver hurries back around his car, slipping in, and I glance up the road to the flashing lights.

Not exactly the welcoming I was expecting, but hey, I’m supercurious now.

As the share car speeds off the way we came, I slowly approach the house I’m meant to be spending Christmas in.

“Get off me!” a woman screeches, and other voices start yelling.

I can’t see past the huge hedge that lines the boundary, but my ears pick up sounds of a scuffle. A grunt, and then feet running.

As I move in closer, I pop my head around the hedge to see a police officer chasing after a dark-haired woman as she runs around the back of the house.

Fucking hell. What am I about to walk into?

Taking out my phone, I ignore the rideshare notification asking me to leave a review, and open up my message thread with Tillie. If she’s inside and there’s some sort of drug raid happening, she should have at least given me a heads up.

I might be clean now, but one search on my name, and the cops will assume I’m tied up with whatever is going on in that house, given my long rap sheet of drug-related charges.

I frown when my eyes land on a message from Till that has nothing to do with why the police are here.

Sorry, Bell. Still in Germany. Blizzard has grounded flights and shut down the airports. We are bloody snowed in! Can you believe it? Dale is pissy as hell and driving me up the wall. I won’t be home for a few more days, but Kit is expecting you. Give Libi a million hugs for me!!!

Great! How didn’t I see this message earlier? It’s time stamped six hours ago.

I haven’t seen my best friend for a few months since she’s been travelling. I only agreed to come here for Christmas so I could spend some extra time with her.

“Ouch, Mummy! You’re hurting me!”

The high-pitched screech of a little girl has my head snapping back towards the house to see the mane of black hair that was fleeing from the officer before, rushing down the front steps, her hand fisted around the thin wrist of a beautiful little girl.

Libi.

Shit. That woman is Rhonda. Kit’s batshit crazy ex-wife, and given the twist of pain contorting Libi’s face, her mother is hurting her.

I’m about to intervene and step around the hedge when another figure comes rushing out the door, and for a moment, it’s as if time slows.

Kitson Hall. Tillie’s big brother has aged like a fine wine.

He’s filled out even more since the last time I saw him, and certainly compared to the lanky guy that used to tease me when we were younger. Now he looks like he’s carved for sin with those broad shoulders and rippling veins running up his tanned arms like live wires.

Well strip me bare and fuck me like a whore, I think I have a lady boner.

Too bad he’s such a dick!

“Let go of her!” he growls, reaching out and snatching up Libi’s other wrist, tugging her towards him.

Poor Libi cries out as Rhonda spins and yanks hard, their daughter now the rope in their tug of war.

“Give me more money and you can have the little bitch!” Rhonda snarls, her nasally voice grating on my nerves.

“Stop! Mummy, you’re hurting me!”

Fucking hell. Can’t they see what they are doing to that poor child?

Libi screams and cries, and it isn’t until the police officers barrel out of the house too and rush for Rhonda that she lets go, only so she can run.

She doesn’t make it more than two steps before one of the officers leaps on her, both of them tumbling to the driveway, while Kit sweeps Libi up in his arms and those tiny little hands cling to her daddy like she never wants to let go.

Fuck it. I knew coming here was a bad idea. It was bad enough when I knew Tillie and Dale would be here to be a buffer. But staying here alone, with Tillie’s arsehole brother is a recipe for disaster.

I’ll end up killing him. Literally. Not even kidding.

As the chaos outside the house continues, I take a step back and start walking in the other direction, hitting call on Tillie’s name.

It rings for so long I’m about to give up when she finally answers.

“Hello?”

“Till… were you sleeping? Isn’t it like the middle of the day there?”

Tillie yawns down the line. “Yeah… but we were up all night, and now we are holed up in a shitty motel with a shitty heater as the shitty weather gets even shittier. There’s literally nothing else to do but sleep.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dale’s voice comes down the line like he’s right next to her. “I could have been in the five-star hotel with the pilot, but noooo. Someone didn’t want to be alone.”

Tillie giggles at Dale’s dramatics. “Shut up and go back to sleep.”

“Hi Dale!” I call into the receiver.

“Hey bitch. Enjoying the Aussie summer yet?”

I snicker at Dale. “Well, the fact that I’m wearing a little black summer dress and you’re practically hugging a heater, I’m gonna say yes, I am enjoying the summer. What better way to spend Christmas?”

Tillie scoffs. “You don’t even like Christmas.”

“True, but if I have to choose between Christmas in the snow, or Christmas on a beach, you know which one I’m choosing.”

“Bitch. I’m going back to sleep to dream of a beach,” Dale whines.

“So… how’s Libi? Did you hug her for me?”

I sigh. “No hugs, no.”

“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. ”

“I doubt 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.”