Page 8 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘Scared?’

Oh, the arrogant twat. ‘If anyone’s scared, it should be you. I’ve heard the kelpies love to drown big-headed men.’

‘Why would I agree? I already lost.’

‘Best of three. What do you say?’

‘I think it’s bedtime,’ Priscilla says, cajoling my dad from his seat and his beloved nightcap.

‘Now things sound interesting,’ Fraser says, straightening up. ‘I’m going to FaceTime Maggie and laugh at you.’

‘Nobody asked you,’ I tell him. ‘Plus, why do you think I’d lose?’

‘Because while you might be a great killer, you’re mediocre at cards.’

‘Whose side are you on?’

James is still watching me. Waiting to see if I’ll rise to his challenge. When he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world, it sends ungodly feelings to very ungodly places.

‘Best of three,’ I say.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

There is a knock at the sitting-room door. Jacob, one of the newer additions to the household, pops his head around the frame. He’s a sweet kid, in his early twenties, still with puppy fat around his chin. He rose up in the outer workings of the business. Not with killing or any of the dodgier aspects, but with being wickedly organised and a huge help in logistics.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he says, glancing around the room with an apologetic smile. ‘Just wanted to let you know that everything’s in place for the Council meeting on Saturday. Sent a summary through the app.’

‘Thank you, Jacob.’ I might have inherited him with the business from my dad, but he’s been a Godsend. Makes my job a hell of a lot easier so I can focus on the contracts and wrangling the mouthy men who plague my existence.

He nods and retreats. Priscilla and Dad follow him out.

And we play.

The next two hands are vicious. I play hard and manage to win one, while James takes the other with ease.

Which brings us to the decider. And I really, really don’t want to end up tits out in the lake. The atmosphere could be cut with a rusty spoon.

With two pairs and a lot of sweat, I win.

Fraser laughs when James groans.

‘That’s what you get for underestimating me,’ I say, standing. ‘So come on, James, put your naked arse in the lake.’

* * *

We ditch Fraser on the way through the heather-covered landscape as we stumble to the loch.

When we get to the loch’s edge, James shudders as he looks out over the dark water.

I extend a hand, palm upward and curl my fingers. ‘Kit off.’

For a moment, I think that he’s going to chicken out and get a thrill of pleasure. I fucking love beating him.

‘Well, here goes,’ he says, pulling his jumper over his head. The soft wool is warm when he drops it in my hand, and it takes everything to fight the urge to stare at his bared chest.

I fail.

My eyes trail over the ridges and valleys of flesh. The trail of hair that leads from his belly button down into his…