HIRED GUN // H.S AU

forty-eight

AMARA

"Make-up sex?" I opened my eyes as Louis' voice filled the room, gasping when he leaned on the doorway, feeling Harry tense up from beneath me.

"Louis!" Harry yelled, pulling the blanket over my body. He wouldn't have seen anything, I was too tightly pressed against Harry's chest for him to. I snickered as Louis giggled, seeing the amusement under Harry's glare. Harry pointed at the door as Lou remained leaned against the doorframe, nodding smugly as he left, closing the door for us.

"Idiot," Harry muttered, his hands caressing my back. I puckered my lips on his chest, closing my eyes as he continued his movements. I felt myself falling back asleep, my eyes opening arubtly when Harry lifted my body off of his.

"No," I moaned, pulling at his arms as he left the bed. I sat up, pouting while he changed into clean clothes. He smirked when he left the room, not giving me a second glance as I huffed. I crawled out of bed after minutes of sulking, my body now colder than when it was pressed against Harry's warm one. I tugged on a pair of denim skinny jeans and a white top, before joining the three boys in the kitchen.

"Good morning," I smiled at Zayn as he sipped on his coffee, his head tipping in my direction. My eyes moved to Harry as his eyes planted on me, Louis talking in his ear while gesturing dramatically with both hands. My lips tugged up as he clearly zoned out of Louis and his conversation, watching my every move as I moved around the kitchen.

"Harry! Listen to me," Louis groaned loudly, before all our eyes moved to the front door. Two envelopes had slipped under the door, my legs moving before my brain. I crouched down, picking up the letters labelled 'H' and 'A'. Harry and Amara? I began opening the one labelled 'A' while giving Harry the one labelled 'H'. My jaw slacked as I read over the paper inside it.

Your boyfriend is lying to you. Ask him about why he was really hired by your parents.
M.

My eyes flew across the paper, going to tear the envelope from Harry's hands, to see he'd already opened it. I froze as my eyes fell on the paper he was holding, the images I hoped he would never see displayed across it.

"What the fuck are these?" Harry hushed, Zayn oblivious as Louis dropped his head. I grabbed the paper from his hands, scanning over the words atop the pictures. I re-read the two sentences over and over, hoping they'd disappear the longer I looked.

Trust forms a relationship. Secrets break them.

"Amara," Harry hissed, his hand grabbing my wrist to pull me to him. I avoided his eyes, looking around the room nervously as tears clouded my vision. Max had invaded my privacy by keeping these pictures, and now Harry had seen them. I know Harry had seen it all before, but it didn't settle my stomach in the slightest.

"I-It's Max," I finally spoke, my voice low as Zayn and Louis watched the exchange. "He was messaging me the photos for awhile. I knew he took them when we were together, but I told him to delete them. I ended up throwing my phone away, he must've found out and gotten angry."

"How long have you been getting these texts?"

"I got the first when we arrived in Río San Juan," I whispered, jumping when Harry's hand slammed down onto the bench. His eyes were furious as they looked at me, making me look away in disappointment.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry bellowed, flinching as I tore my eyes from him to look at Zayn and Louis for help. They both stayed quiet, biting their lips nervously.

"I didn't want you to see the pictures, I was embarrassed," I murmured so only he could hear, leaning into his body as his eyes softened. I felt him grab my waist as my body swayed, hearing him sigh deeply.

"We can't keep secrets anymore, Amara," Harry pressed his lips into my shoulder, his hands pulling me onto his lap. I nodded in response, apologising to him quietly.

"The envelope didn't have an address, he knows we're here," Harry said calmly, his body relaxed. His calm state relaxed me, but I'm assuming he wasn't too worried about Max knowing our whereabouts.

"He always knows where I am," I whispered, digging through my brain as I tried putting pieces together. How did he always know where I was? The three boys looked at me, confusion in their eyes.

"What?"

"He always hints that he knows where I am in the texts, and he says things that he'd only know if he was in front of me," I bit my lip as I thought, Harry's fingers tightening around my thigh.

"Holy shit," my mouth dropped open as realisation hit me, jumping off Harry's lap. I heard the boys asking me what happened, their questions remaining unanswered as I rushed into the bedroom, my hands throwing things out of my suitcase as I looked for the object.

I ran back to the boys with it in my hand, a silver band with a large red gemstone. I placed it down on the bench, throwing open draws in the kitchen as I searched for something to crush it with.

"Is she okay?" Zayn whispered as I threw things around, my hand clutching around a large metal serving spoon. The boys all stepped back as I hit the ring with the spoon, making it fly across the room. "Oh my god." Zayn looked at me as if I was psycho, the other two boys faces showing realisation as they looked at the broken ring.

A tracking device. He'd put a tracking device in the ring, knowing I'd carry it with me everywhere. My grandmother had given it to me, and I'd thought nothing of it when it went missing for a few days, later finding it on his desk.

Harry slammed his fist over the device, crushing it into small pieces. Zayn made a noise as a piece flew at him, muttering curses under his breath.

"We need to go," Harry grabbed my hand, pulling me to the bedroom while the other boys ran to their own room. We packed quickly, rushing out of the hotel in minutes. Harry kept me behind him, and Zayn behind me as we left the hotel, their hands on their guns as we got into the car.

"Where are we going now? We're starting to run out of places," I asked as Louis talked into the phone, requesting our pilot. Zayn and Harry looked at each other, worry in both their eyes.

"You choose."

"Bosnia," I requested, choosing randomly as I remembered my mother saying she'd always wanted to go there.

"Bosnia it is."