A Kiss to Die for. Gail Barrett

skidded away.

      But more footsteps pounded nearby, the sudden flurry of activity jump-starting her pulse. She lifted the board again, preparing to strike.

      “It’s me,” Sully called out. A second later, he emerged from the darkness and limped to her side.

      Her breath rushed out. She staggered to the Dumpster and slumped against it, dizzy with relief. “What happened?”

      “They’re gone. There were only a couple of them this time, and I chased them off.”

      “Not all of them.” She gestured to the man on the ground.

      “Hell.” His eyes shot to hers. “Are you all right?”

      Pressing a hand to her chest, she gave him a nod. “Just winded.” And her arm ached. “He dropped his gun. I’m not sure where it went.”

      He held her gaze for a heartbeat, his expression impossible to read in the dusky night. Then he turned away and searched the ground. “Here it is.” He retrieved the gun, then dropped to one knee beside her attacker and rolled him onto his back.

      “He’s not dead, is he?” Even though he’d intended to harm her, she hated to think that she’d killed the man.

      “No, just unconscious. You recognize him?”

      She tossed aside the board and stepped closer, trying to make out his features in the dark. He looked young, not much older than the girls in her shelter, with light-colored hair and skin. Blood trickled down his jaw toward a dark form writhing across his neck. “Is that a snake tattoo?”

      “Looks like it.”

      “Then he’s a member of the Ridgewood gang. That’s one of their signs.”

      Sully grunted. He checked the gang member’s pockets, unearthing a wicked-looking knife, several magazines for the handgun and a cell phone. He tucked the weapons into his pockets and rose, then turned on the phone and checked the calls.

      Suddenly, he went stock-still.

      “What is it?” Her apprehension rising, she searched his face.

      His gaze cut to hers, the sudden suspicion in his eyes jolting her heart. “What did you say your name was?”

      “Haley Barnes.”

      “Not Burroughs?”

      Her lungs stopped dead. Burroughs. No one had called her that in years. Fifteen years, to be exact. Fifteen terrifying years spent running for her life. But how would the gang know her name?

      “I...I go by Barnes now. But Burroughs...” She tried to swallow, but failed. “That used to be my name. Why do you ask?”

      Sully’s gaze stayed on hers. Several charged seconds crawled past. Dread pounded inside her, so fierce she could hardly breathe.

      Then Sully held up the cell phone for her to see. “This guy got a text message. There’s a reward for the capture of Haley Burroughs—and it’s double if you’re brought in dead.”

      Chapter 3

      She had a price on her head.

      Haley jogged down the alley beside Sully, the revelation making her reel. That shooting hadn’t been random. They’d targeted her specifically. Her. Haley Burroughs.

      They knew who she really was.

      And they’d put a bounty on her head. Now every criminal on the east coast would be gunning for her to claim the prize. And if that weren’t bad enough, she was more valuable dead than alive.

      Sully slowed to a walk and she followed suit, trying to come to grips with that awful thought. “So what’s going on?” he asked.

      She glanced at his steely face, knowing she had to explain. He’d rescued the girls. He’d risked his life for her. Twice. She’d swept him into this lethal mess, painting a gang target on his back—and all because he’d tried to help.

      “This can’t be a typical turf war if they’re after you,” he added.

      She pressed her hand to her belly to quiet her nerves. “You’re right. It’s not.” It was far, far worse. Her past had come back to haunt her. Her worst fear had just come true.

      “It’s complicated,” she hedged.

      “Try me.”

      Hesitating, she looked away. She never revealed her past. She’d concealed her identity and stayed on the run for years. And even though she’d thought the danger had finally passed, that it was safe to return to the mid-Atlantic area, she still used a pseudonym and stayed out of the limelight in case someone recognized her.

      But she could trust this man. He’d leaped into the path of danger, putting his life on the line on her behalf. And she owed him the truth after all he’d done.

      But first they needed to find a place to hide. They couldn’t stay on the street, exposed. Her shelter would do no good; the gang would have it staked out. And neither could they join the teenagers and risk leading the danger to them.

      She caught Sully’s gaze. “All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you. But we need to find a taxi first. A friend of mine lives in Baltimore with her fiancé, and I need to let them know what’s going on.”

      “Baltimore? That’s forty miles away.”

      “I know. The fare’s going to be through the roof. But they’re involved in this, too. And my friend’s fiancé is a cop. We can talk while we’re on the way.”

      He frowned at that. She didn’t blame him if he wanted to bolt. He probably regretted setting eyes on her considering the disaster she’d mired him in.

      “A cop, huh?”

      “Yes. His name’s Parker McCall. He’s a detective with the Baltimore Police Department.” A sudden thought gave her pause. “Is that a problem?”

      His gaze snapped to hers. “You think I’m a criminal?”

      “No, of course not.” She trusted her instincts about people. She’d had to as a runaway if she’d hoped to survive. And whatever tormented Sully was inside him. Deep inside. If he was fleeing, it was from himself.

      He plowed his hand through his shaggy hair. “All right. I’ll go with you.”

      “Good.” She started across the street. “We can catch a taxi at the Colonial Hotel. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

      Inhaling, she tried to regroup. She eyed the traffic whizzing past, the people standing across the street, waiting for the metro bus. The normality of the scene felt bizarre. They’d barely lived through a gun battle, and yet the world went on unaffected with people continuing their usual lives.

      But she couldn’t let the peacefulness fool her. She had the Ridgewood gang hunting her down. Someone was determined to see her dead. But was it really that long-ago killer? How could he have discovered her name?

      “If I’m right,” she finally began, “this goes back to when I was a teenager. When I ran away from home.”

      Sully turned his head. “You were a runaway?”

      “Yes.” She picked up her pace, as if walking faster could help her escape the past. But she could never outrun that painful time—pregnant, her parents insisting on an abortion, her boyfriend unwilling to help raise the child. So she’d run away, determined to keep the baby, convinced she could make it on her own.

      She’d been wrong. Her baby had paid the price.

      So had she.

      But Sully didn’t need to know all that. And it didn’t matter now. She’d come a long way since then. She was no longer that naive girl. “I was fifteen. It was tough.”

      “I’ll bet.”

      She