Page 71 of Death Kiss

Martin droops forward too, and it’s like a peace descends over the woods. As if we’ve vanquished evil itself.

Letting go of the body, Kat wipes her blade on his sweatshirt shoulder, eyes on mine and that familiar neediness filling them. I’ve got a lap full of corpse, and my girl still looks like she’s about to eat me up. Nudging Martin until he topples to my left, I watch as Kat crawls toward me, climbing over Jimmy without a care.

When she reaches me, I take her by the chin and pull her into a heated kiss. Our lips and tongue move like a dance, equal parts desire and violence in every touch. I bite her lip when she pulls my hair. I kiss her throat when she moans so prettily. Our mouths meet again as if kissing is breathing, and we need that touch to survive. And maybe we do.

Maybe sex damaged me so much for so long that I’ve been fighting its healing powers. That with the right person it can restore parts of me I’d long given up on. With Kat.

I wrap my hand in the cord of her heart stone necklace and twist it tight until she’s panting against me.

‘One to go,’ I whisper against her lips.

‘One to go,’ she repeats.

‘And then I’m marrying your sweet ass.’

Kat blinks up at me, and for a second I imagine she might reject me, until she breaks into the giddiest grin. ‘You mean it?’

‘With all that I have. You’re my universe, Kat.’

She kisses me so hard I can’t feel my damned lips.

‘After all,’ I say when she lets me breathe again, ‘I can’t get my favourite coffee anywhere else.’

‘Filth.’ She laughs as I swoop her up into my arms, grinning at my perfect woman.

‘Always.’

THIRTY-THREE

ELLIE

Freddie’s in his tiny kitchen, browning the mince as I grapple with whether to bring up the photo with him. I’ve no doubt he’s seen it; he’s so embroiled in the case that he has to have, but does he suspect that the masked vigilante is Kat?

Sweat gathers at the back of my neck as I sit in the place between holding Kat’s secret and what might come of sharing it. I need someone to talk to. The secret is weighing too heavily on its own. This is my girl we’re talking about. My best friend for nearly four years. She’s not a bad person. If she’s killing men—which is an insane thought in itself—there has to be a good reason for it.

Freddie’s a reporter. He found awful things in that cottage, but he’s not published the story yet. Why? Has he recognised Kat and is holding back?

Bringing the image up on my phone, I trace the small masked face.

‘Freddie,’ I say, moving behind him and gently touching his elbow. ‘Can I show you something?’

He turns to me, raising his eyebrows until he sees the phone in my hand. Moving the pan off the heat, he turns to face me. ‘Of course.’

‘I think this is Kat.’ I pass the phone over so he can zoom in.

‘What makes you think that? There are a lot of blondes. It could even be a wig.’ Freddie’s eyes search mine, looking for doubt.

‘The necklace. She’s worn it for as long as I’ve known her. It’s a heart-shaped stone she got as a kid.’ My voice sounds crackly.

‘It’s pretty blurry…’ Freddie says, squinting at the photo.

‘I know it’s her, Freddie. And I don’t know what to do about it. It’s Kat. The woman who cries at TikTok videos and wants to take in every stray animal she sees. She’s not crazy. She’s not.’

Freddie scoops me against him and holds me tight. ‘It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.’

‘How? I don’t want her to go to jail for the rest of her life?’

‘Would anyone else recognise her? Or suspect her?’ Freddie wipes at tears I didn’t feel falling.