Page 41 of Death Kiss

ME: Have an awesome time! Wear the black; you’ll knock him dead.

Maybe dead’s not the best choice of word. I delete dead and switch it for sideways.

Right as I’m about to lock my phone, a news headline pops down in a notification.

BREAKING: One man confirmed deceased as fire tears through rural home.

My stomach becomes a churning pit.

I click before I can stop myself. Alan’s house, or what’s left of it, is right there on my screen. The roof no longer exists, having caved in, leaving the house a sea of black.

No matter how much Alan deserved it, seeing the destruction we wrought fills me with angst. There’s a housing crisis, and between us, we’ve destroyed two.

One could argue that we’ve also freed a few up by eradicating their fucked-up owners. They do say you have to make a mess before something is cleaned properly. Maybe this is the necessary damage.

Police are visible in the pictures. Bright yellow jackets among a sea of black. Looking for clues. Clues that lead to Liam and me.

Did we leave anything behind? Any hair would have burnt up, but what about blood? DNA?

The ashy remains suggest our fire was thorough, at least.

Will Alan have anything that links him to the others? Ashworth will know. We know. The others on the list will know. And I hope any fucker they ever tortured alongside is quaking in their bloody boots.

And then there’s the people who grew up terrified of these men. Will they see their faces on the news and remember them? Will any come forward and give the police the links they don’t know exist?

The screen darkens as I lock it and place it back on the bedside table. For a time, I lie there and listen to the soft breaths of the two men in my life.

I think of Ellie and the untruths and lies that are stretching our friendship thin. It kills me to freeze her out, but what choice do I have? Telling her would implicate her. Trusting her to keep a secret like ours would probably obliterate our friendship, even if she doesn’t hate us for what we’ve done.

Despite being warm in my bed next to the man I love, loneliness weighs heavily over me. Like I did when I was a kid, rattling around in my parents’ house.

I want Ellie back.

I want Liam back.

EIGHTEEN

ELLIE

The room swims a little as I stand up, turning to Freddie and grinning.

‘I’m spots.’

‘So I see,’ he says, leaning on his pool cue and looking like a dream. It might be the wine talking, but he’s gotten even hotter as the night’s gone on. His blonde hair is curling at the ends in the warm pub, looking more relaxed than it did when we went to dinner.

His piercing green eyes follow me around the table as I line up my next shot, all too aware of how my skirt hitches when I bend over the table. It might be a little forward, but fuck does it feel good to be flirting again.

‘If I win again, that’ll make it three to your one; will you admit defeat?’

‘Depends,’ Freddie says. ‘Are we going for another drink after, or do I need to up the ante to spend more time with you?’

I miss my shot. A dirty distraction indeed.

Freddie passes behind me as he moves toward the white ball, his fingers skimming my lower back and sending butterflies flitting through me. I stand up and look over my shoulder. For three ragged heartbeats, our eyes lock and, jeez Louise, that look nearly ends me. I’ll need to be asking for a mop to deal with my snail trail at this rate.

Trailing my fingers over the edge of the table, I follow him to where he lines up his shot. ‘Mmm, I haven’t decided yet. It’s getting ever so late…’

Freddie looks up at me with a quirked brow. ‘No pressure. I didn’t mean to⁠—’