The Hunter's Angel

First Impressions

I swallowed a nervous breath as I walked up to the glass doors standing before me, tilting my head up slightly to read the sign displayed above. 

OakWood Shooting Club. 

Yup. It was really happening. I was going to a shooting range with Hunter and his drug-running buddies. 

What could go wrong? 

"You ready to head inside, Angel?" 

I turned to glance at Hunter as he walked up to me, clicking his keys as he sauntered over to lock the Audi. 

He must have seen the timidness in my face because he stopped beside me and ran a calming hand down my back for reassurance. 

"Don't worry, Layla. They're gonna like you, I know it," Hunter murmured gently. 

Sighing, I replied, "I hope so." 

I really wanted this to go well, seeing as it was my first time officially meeting Hunter's friends. I wasn't sure why I cared so much, but I really wanted them to like me. 

I was planning on sticking around him for quite a while, after all. 

"Pssh, how could they not?" he professed. His eyes trailed down my figure, and he subtly bit his lip as he glanced back at my face. "Honestly, I'm afraid they're gonna like you a little too much." 

My mouth gaped as I peered down at myself. I was wearing a pair of form-fitting blue jeans, a white ribbed tank-top, and my white Air Forces. I didn't think it was much, but based on the way Hunter was studying my curves, I would say he was a real fan. 

"Really, Hunter? I'm wearing the most basic outfit." He was incorrigible. 

Hunter's gaze heated as he looked down at me. "Angel, with curves like those, I don't think any outfit could look basic on you. I mean seriously, your ass is driving me insane," he murmured teasingly, his hand brushing past my back and over the curve of my rear. 

I sent him a mock eye roll, but I couldn't help the grin that tugged at my lips from his reaction. Or the way my body heated from his playful touch. 

This boy had me wrapped around his finger. 

"You're an idiot," I muttered, a small grin still painting my face as I drew away from him. 

Hunter chuckled, planting a soft kiss against my lips. "Yeah, but you love it." 

"Whatever," I drawled playfully, knowing full well his words were true. And he knew it too. 

Entwining his fingers with mine, Hunter led us towards the glass doors before us. I gave myself one more deep breath before he drew open the doors and we walked inside. 

I took a moment to adjust to the classic rock music sounding around us, my lips curving up slightly when I recognized it was a song from Dire Straits. 

As we walked further inside, my smile fell, replaced by what could only be described as a look of shock as I peered at the expansive space before us. 

This place was totally not like the shooting ranges my dad used to take me to. 

There was an upscale lounge area right past the entrance, fit with luxurious velvet couches and glass tables, where people were hanging out. People that seemed like they came to the shooting range more for business than pleasure. 

All sorts of guns decorated the place, from massive rifles hanging on the walls to sleek Glocks and Berreta's sitting behind glass displays. 

Right behind the lounge area was the shooting lanes, caged by rows and rows of bulletproof glass. A few of the lanes were occupied by some men doing target practice, but the majority of the facility was rather empty.