Page 18 of Death Kiss

‘So,’ Mr Elliott says, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. ‘We asked you here to tell you our news.’

Kat looks at her dad, waiting for him to spill the beans. ‘Go on.’

Mrs Elliott reaches over and touches his hand. Not a romantic touch, just a soft pat. Like he’s her grandpa, not her husband.

‘We’re selling the house.’

My fork stops halfway to my mouth, not even the promise of fireworks of flavour able to keep me from reacting. Kat chokes on a mouthful of water and blinks at her parents.

‘You’re what?’

‘Selling up. We always thought you’d get married and move your family in here, but with just the two of us, it’s a bit much. We want to move into the city to be nearer our friends, and there’s a lovely four-bed going in the West End.’ Her Dad’s words are so unaffected by any emotion that it’s almost creepy. Could be a bloody robot. I reach for Kat’s hand, imagining the same blaring thought is in her head.

The well.

The well that currently holds three bodies, with a fourth in our trunk, ready to dispose of after dinner.

Shit.

‘What if Liam and I want to move in here? Or marry? Or have kids?’

It’s been so hard to think past this revenge plan, with the chance of arrest being high. Planning for what comes after seems like madness. The idea of Kat being my wife unleashes uncontrollable things inside me. I want it more than anything.

‘Darling, we put everything into raising you. Twenty-two years, hundreds of thousands of pounds, the best education and a full-time nanny. But despite everything we’ve given you, you’ve veered from our plan. You’ve completed your degree but forgone joining your father’s business. You’ve chosen to date this… man… as a form of rebellion. And when you’re done with this dalliance, your father will have a space for you in his company, working your way up, of course.’ Mrs Elliott sounds less robotic than her husband, marginally.

The veins in Kat’s neck look like they might burst, her fingers gripping mine hard enough to leave little nail-shaped moons across my knuckles.

‘It’s not a dalliance. I LOVE HIM. And he loves me.’ Kat’s voice is high and angry, but her words are like gold. Declaring that I’m hers has my heart skipping beats.

‘Well, whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t change anything. The estate agents will be assessing the house in two weeks. You can take anything from your room that you want to keep.’

It’s quiet for a few minutes, until Kat sighs, rubbing her eyes. ‘What if we bought it?’

‘Katherine, you don’t even have a job. How do you think you’re getting a mortgage on a place like this?’ Mr Elliott has a smile on his face for the first time since I’ve met him. It’s awful. Smug.

‘But would you sell it to me if I can raise the money?’ I can’t imagine Kat actually wants to live here. It’s all about the well. Maybe we could move the bodies…

Mrs Elliott gives me a look so scathing that it makes the hair on my arms stand up. I can almost feel the ire as she takes in my scars and tattoos. It’s the look you’d give if you found black mould in your bathroom. Well, if you’re not accustomed to it being there like some of us are.

‘Darling, we can give you six weeks. If you can raise the capital by then, we’ll sell to you. Maybe if you pool your funds you can find the money.’ Mrs Elliott raises a brow at us, and Mr Elliott actually chuckles.

‘I think you underestimate your daughter,’ I say.

‘Perhaps it’s not her we’re doubting here. You don’t look like you have half a million in your account, Liam. And Katherine is accustomed to a certain standard of living. She might like play-acting the poor kid for a few years, but she’ll tire of it eventually.’

Kat’s jaw is tight, her teeth grinding audibly. I know they’re right, though; I’ve seen my bank balance. I haven’t fought at the underground club since I met Kat. It didn’t seem worth putting my life on the line when I’d only just found her again.

But maybe I can do this for her.

‘I’m serious,’ Kat says.

‘So are we. You have six weeks, darling. Then we sell.’

EIGHT

KAT

I’m mad enough after dinner that I can nearly move the body myself. And this one’s a big guy. A teacher. A fucking teacher, doing those despicable things to kids.