Page 99 of How to Kill Your Rival

I’m halfway to Fraser when he looks over my shoulder, eyes widening. ‘Eliza, behind you!’

With no time to turn, I duck and roll behind the table, gripping my knife and looking between the table legs for the source of the problem.

All I can see are legs. A pair of dirty jeans and beat-up boots.

I can’t see James, but he’s no longer leaning where I left him.

‘Get your sorry arse out here, Eliza, or I’ll blow your brother’s head off.’

Fuck. I recognise the voice. It’s one of Hector Stewart’s nephews. I’m fairly certain we shared a drunken snog at a teen party aeons ago. Marty? Melvin? Marvin. That’s the one.

‘Come on, Marv, you’re not going to shoot her. If you do, you’ve got shit chance of finding Eddie,’ Fraser says.

‘She’s supposed to be out finding Eddie. The fact that she isn’t tells me that she can’t. Because she knows where she put him.’ I almost feel bad for killing Eddie with the sadness in his voice.

‘I once saw Eddie draw a cock on your head in permanent marker when you fell asleep in class. You were called a dickhead for four fucking years. Eddie’s a bully.’

Was. But I’m trying my best not to let on that I killed him. James moves beyond the pallets, circling around to where Marvin is.

‘He’s my cousin,’ Marvin says, exasperation tainting his words.

‘Then let’s work together to find him,’ I say. It’s a lie, and I doubt Marvin believes me, but as I stand, I can see the hope in his face.

‘Drop your knife,’ he barks, while James closes in on him from behind. Poor fucker doesn’t have a clue.

‘I don’t really want to kill you, Marvin,’ I sigh.

‘I said drop your fucking knife.’ Marvin’s face is suffused with tomato red.

‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘Then I’ll blow your goddamned tits off,’ he grunts.

Fraser bursts out laughing at that, and Marvin’s face grows even redder. He paces over to Fraser, pointing his gun right at his head.

A critical error.

I throw my knife, smiling as it pierces the side of Marvin’s throat. He spins towards me, mouth sagging open, pulling the trigger and firing a shot into the ceiling as he falls.

‘I was just about to do that,’ James sighs.

‘Snooze, ya lose.’ Moving over, I kick Marvin’s gun from his hand and wrench my knife from his throat. He splutters, reaching for his neck. But it’s too late; there’s not enough blood left in his arms to support the actions.

Stepping over him, I cross to Fraser and take his stupid, dirty face in my hands. My thumb goes over the cut on his lip and a bruise under his eye. He looks as tired as I feel.

‘Get off me and stop your fussing,’ he says, but the relief is evident on his face.

I throw my arms around him, chair and all.

‘Eliza,’ he groans.

I hold him all the tighter. ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘You wish. Probably had your eye on my bedroom. I actually can’t breathe.’

‘My bedroom is much better than yours.’ Tears threaten while I laugh.

‘Untie me already. I’ve had a rough week, you know.’