Page 74 of Death Kiss

‘Working on a little something,’ he says, his smile looking like he’s fallen straight out of an early Hugh Grant rom-com. Damn, I can see why Ellie’s fallen for the posh fucker. Even I find his grin a little bit disarming, and I’m one hundred per cent Kat’s.

‘So everyone will know about what the fuckers have done?’

The bell above the door rings before he can answer me. I turn and almost fall off my chair when Ashworth himself walks into the pub. Rain has darkened his grey hair, and he narrows those beady eyes at Freddie, seemingly taking no notice of us.

He looks almost grandfatherly up close. Like he’d pull out a pocket of Werther’s rather than hurt innocents. Kat stiffens beside me, her muscles tensing beneath my fingers. Blood rushes past my temples as I force myself to stay glued to my stool.

‘Frederick Baker, you’re proving a hard man to track down,’ Ashworth says as he approaches us.

‘Didn’t I answer all your questions at the station?’ Freddie says, not even looking up at him.

‘More crop up from time to time. We’re requesting another interview with you.’ Ashworth grazes his eyes over Ellie before looking at Kat, and finally me. His eyes narrow as he tries to place my face, and I tighten my grip around Kat as her fingers dance over the knife she has in her belt. ‘You…’

‘Me,’ I say, my fingers tensing into a fist. The urge to jump up and stab his beady fucking eyes out is overwhelming. Breathing through it is painful, but slitting his throat in public isn’t the way to go. Not if we want to remain free.

‘William, isn’t it?’ Ashworth asks. ‘I remember you.’

His eyes narrow before he breaks into a reptilian grin.

‘Oh, this is too good. Little boy all grown up and becoming a vigilante. You always did like to bite. Didn’t you?’

My stomach roils, and I physically have to hold Kat back from jumping at Ashworth.

‘You won’t get away with this,’ Kat spits.

Ashworth laughs. ‘And this must be your little friend. I did think it was a stretch that such a petite little thing was doing all this on her own.’

Kat’s mouth opens, but Freddie interjects. ‘Don’t say anything, either of you.’

It’s a good point. We don’t know if he’s wired up with a van full of his copper pals outside.

So we sit there, wanting nothing more than to spill blood, while holding our tongues.

Ashworth reaches out and touches a lock of Kat’s hair. I can’t even smack him away in case I give him a reason to arrest me. Right now, he has nothing linking Kat and me to this, though I can imagine he’ll look for any excuse to take us in. Doing nothing feels like he’s ramming red-hot pokers into me. My grip tightens further on Kat. ‘Such a pretty little thing. They’ll love you inside. I might have to pay you a visit.’

Ashworth turns to Freddie, patting him on the shoulder. ‘I’m not sure we’ll need that chat after all. I hear your paper’s about to have a reshuffle, maybe lose a junior reporter. Such a shame.’

The room buzzes around me as Ashworth leaves. Too many witnesses to pursue him.

‘He can’t die soon enough,’ Kat breathes, the fight going out of her.

‘He’s coming for us,’ I say. ‘We need to end this before he gets our names into the case files.’

‘He has no reason to implicate you,’ Freddie says. ‘Well, nothing he can link to without some serious side-eyeing on how he’d know. But he’s like a cornered animal. He’s going to lash out.’

Time’s running out.

Ashworth needs to die.

THIRTY-FIVE

FREDDIE

I’m crammed into a small space in the back office, typing furiously in my notebook. It’s six thirty-five, and I need to get this story submitted in time for the nightly updates. Sent to my paper, but also forwarded to multiple police stations and other news outlets to make sure the word spreads like wildfire.

My fingers shake as I type, editing my story to pack a punch. A punch right in Ashworth’s smug, cuntish face. It needs to be a hard enough strike that the police will swoop in. Immediately. If they don’t, I have a feeling Ashworth won’t see the sunrise, and Kat and Liam will end up caught. As much as I don’t agree with what they’ve done, I understand their why.

Telling their story could sell so many more papers than a corrupt police officer, but at what cost? I fear that I’d be selling my soul to the devil for the scoop, and the story I have is already huge for where I am in my career.