Page 30 of Death Kiss

‘Just some surveillance.’

My hands still, too tense to keep working.

‘Without me.’

Liam touches my chin with his intact hand, those dark, soulful eyes softening. ‘I’m sorry, princess. I wanted to wait, but it was eating me up inside. The plan was to just check the place out. Note down cameras, lights and motion sensors. I didn’t go there to kill him.’

‘But did you leave without killing him?’

‘Unfortunately.’

Leaning into his touch, I sigh. ‘I’d have been pissed if you killed him without me, but I’d still be glad he’s dead.’

‘He’s not going to be easy. Not only is he careful and police, but he knows someone’s coming. The one thing we might have on him is that he doesn’t know who we are, or that there are two of us.’

‘Yet.’

Liam nods. ‘Yet. And worse still, a journalist showed up, knocking at Ashworth’s door.’

Sitting back, I pack up the supplies before taking them and the napkin full of shards into the kitchen. Pulling out two glasses, I pour us two indecently large slugs of vodka. Not ideal, but I think we both need it.

Liam pulls me onto the couch next to him, downing his drink in one shot. Bloody hell.

‘What did he want?’

‘Hard to say. Ashworth slammed the door in his face. But I got a name and a number plate. He did mention finding a link. No idea what.’ Liam leans his head against the back of the couch, his towel dipping on his muscular stomach. ‘I considered killing Ashworth, but the guy, Freddie, stuck around on the driveway.’

‘Probably for the best. And the mirror?’

Liam rubs his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I got back from Ashworth’s, and my brain went into turbo mode; it felt like my skull was going to explode. It had to come out somewhere. I didn’t mean it. And I’ll fix it.’

His voice is quick, almost like a child’s when you catch them out doing something they shouldn’t. I don’t want to push him into that place.

‘Come here,’ I say, pulling Liam’s head into my lap and running my nails through his hair. It calms me, so it can’t hurt to try it on him.

We sit like that for a while, Liam’s yawns interspersed with silence. Eventually, he speaks. ‘We’re going to have to do this faster.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s easier to make a mistake, but it gives them less time to investigate. They’ll make mistakes too if they rush.’

And just like that, stress rises in my chest, squeezing my lungs. I don’t want Liam to feed off my negative energy, so I just breathe through the panic, never stilling my fingers in Liam’s hair.

‘Faster gets people caught,’ I whisper.

‘So does waiting for them to fix their net.’ His voice is tainted with sleep, so I keep my fingers moving, swallowing down the tornado of emotions I’m hit with.

His breathing lengthens, his shoulders unknotting as I continue to stroke his hair.

I don’t let myself crumble until I’m sure he’s asleep. Fat tears roll down my cheeks as the pressure releases from the turmoil in my head. My fear and sadness cascade unbidden as I cry silently. The solid weight of Liam brings comfort, but I can see he’s losing control. I can feel that I am.

It’s feeling like a near-impossible task to survive without incarceration is becoming impossible. Even if we survive it, will we be left looking over our shoulders forever?

What will be left of us even if we make it through together?

There might be nothing left to salvage.

Liam needs time to rest and to heal, so I sit there statue-still until my tears dry to salty streaks. I daren’t move, in case I don’t get to hold him like this again.