Page 21 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘She called me an acquaintance last month. As if she hasn’t competed with me for years. I know the way her breath catches when she’s bested me to a kill. I could paint the exact parts of her cheeks that flush when she wins. I could point out her knife strokes in a morgue and know that they were from her hand. No one else knows that she gives hefty discounts to people who need some fucker to die to stop hurting them. She’ll never admit to anyone else because it might make her look soft. Fucking acquaintance. I think bloody not.’

I’d take rival. Or competitor. Hell, even an insult, but I know Eliza to my bones.

‘Well, Jeff, it’s been a pleasure. More for me than you, dare I say it.’

I gather my things, stepping over Jeff’s body to get to the fridge. Grabbing the magnet, I pocket it. Jeff isn’t going to need it.

8

ELIZA

‘Please,’ Phillip begs.

They all do, in the end.

At least this contract wasn’t dead by the time I got here.

‘Beg harder,’ I say.

‘Will you let me go?’ Phillip says, tears in his eyes.

‘Oh, don’t be a silly-billy. Of course I’m not going to let you go. You’ve pissed off a lot of people. And I have a fee to collect.’ I take a seat in his lap, patting his sweaty face.

‘I can pay you more.’ His lip trembles.

‘Oh, darling. Not everyone can be bought. I’d pay to kill you for what you’ve done.’

‘You don’t know…’

‘Oh… I know. About the alternative cargo you smuggle into the country, and how you toss the ones who don’t make it into the sea. I know all about the way you make your money. And I don’t want a fucking penny of it.’

‘Fuck you,’ he spits.

‘Tough words for a man who has less than three minutes to live.’ I giggle at the way his veins stand out like a map. The artery in his throat visibly thrums, in invitation. It’s amazing, really, how much the human body can sustain without packing in, yet how easily it can also be felled.

Lifting my knife, I press it to his pulsating artery, watching the way he freezes.

‘Do you feel guilty about all those people you let die?’ I ask.

‘They don’t matter.’

‘I can imagine every single one deserved to live more than you do.’ I slide the knife just half a centimetre deeper, and suddenly, he’s dying. In a great bloody torrent over my hand. ‘And now you get to join them on the other side. I can’t imagine there will be a warm welcome awaiting you.’

It doesn’t take long for his eyes to flutter, his gaze drifting from my face.

‘Try better next time if you get another chance.’

On his dying breath, he whispers, ‘If I get another chance, I’m going to kill you.’

‘Get in line, Bucko.’

I wrench my knife to split his artery, frowning as it sprays my jumper. The buttery soft cashmere is soggy with his blood.

‘Dammit, Phillip. I was going to go to the pub on the way home.’

After a scoot round with the baby wipes to the dulcet tones of Phillip’s death gurgles, I tuck my hair into my jacket’s hood and zip it tight. Then I don my oversized shades and grab my kitbag. The gloves go on last, and I’m ready to go.

I close his front door behind me on the way out, locking it and popping the key back under the gnome next to the doorstep.