Storm Kissed by Jessica Andersen

her ear to the streets.
    “I paid Jocko to squelch it.”
    “You . . .” She stared at him, not understanding. “Why?” She could have been finding patterns, making plans. She could have been . . . oh, shit. Cold sluiced through her as she got it. She freaking got it. He hadn’t told her because he was planning on killing Hood and he didn’t want her trying to stop him. Or if things went bad, he didn’t want her charged as an accomplice. Sick dread washed through her, bringing a new film of tears. “You’re not a killer.”
    It was what separated them from the gang. She and Dez wore guns and walked tough, but the weapons were strictly for defense, and they shot to scare, to wound. Not to kill. Never to kill.
    He cupped her face in his scarred palms and looked down at her, staring like he was trying to memorize the moment. And in his eyes, she saw more darkness today than yesterday. “I couldn’t save my family,” he said softly. “I can save you.”
    “You—” She broke off, knowing there was no point in arguing that one. It was why Dez had come to her rescue that first night, when Hood had cornered her, coveted her. And it was why he was willing to sacrifice himself now.
    That, and because he was a stubborn ass who didn’t fucking listen .
    She reached up and gripped his wrists, right over the new tattoos. “This isn’t the only way. We can deal with him legitimately. We did it before—we can do it again.”
    His eyes burned into hers. “I’m not going to let him touch you.”
    “I’m not arguing with you there. But there are other options.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s leave. Fallon said the offer is still open. The department will stake us to a move, help us get started somewhere else.”
    For the past couple of years, Dez had wanted to bail and start over, but she had refused to be chased out of yet another home. Which she supposed made them a pair of stubborn asses, but if she had to give up on the neighborhood to save him from himself, she would do it.
    He shook his head, expression bleak. “The Cobras aren’t just a street gang anymore, Reese. They’ve got a long reach. Moving to a new city won’t solve anything.”
    She wanted to argue that they could change their names, build new lives—she had done it before, could do it again—but she had a feeling that was just an excuse. As far as Dez was concerned, he had let Keban beat him that night in the storm, so he wasn’t going to let Hood beat him now. Or, rather, he was going to be the one to do the beating.
    Feeling suddenly sad, small, and desperate, she turned her face and pressed a kiss to his scarred palm. “Promise me you won’t kill him.”
    For a second she thought he leaned into her touch, that his fingers tightened. But when he pulled away from her, his eyes were cool. “I can’t.”
     
    Tears stung Reese’s eyes even in sleep, blurring the memories, which spun past faster now, mercifully showing as single images: Hood’s eyes, open and staring; a ruby pendant; a ring box sitting in a pool of blood.
    “That’s enough,” Strike said, his voice breaking through the memories and bringing her back to drowsy reality.
    “You want me to block it out?” That came from the silver-eyed man who held her hand, his words resonating in her head as well as her ears. Through their strange mental link she learned his name—Rabbit—and caught a trace of wood smoke, sharp and acrid, along with a sense of worry.
    “Not yet,” Strike rumbled. “Let’s wait and see what she . . . ” The words faded.
    No! Reese grabbed for consciousness as it started to slip away again. Come back! She fought against the grayness that crept in from the edges of her dream state, but couldn’t stay awake. As she faded, another memory broke through unbidden, one that came from years earlier than the others.
     
    “Hurry!” Fingers biting into her wrist, the stranger dragged her along the outside wall of Seventeen while rain lashed down around