Page 109 of How to Kill Your Rival

Evan looks better than he has in months. Still thin, but his eyes are focused, and his presence deadly. He listens to their discussion, calmly drinking his tea.

‘The seat is not reverting. It’s Eliza’s. If you’ve got a problem with that, then you’ve got a problem with me.’ He picks up his cup surrounded by awkward silence, and almost everybody does the same.

Hector opens his mouth.

‘I’d think carefully,’ Evan says, ‘about what you say about my little girl.’

Hector has the sense to shut his mouth.

Seconds later, the door opens and in walks Eliza, and despite knowing that she times everything to a tee for maximum impact, it still gets me in the gut every time.

Her dress is dark and extremely short, the blazer over it barely skimming the hem. Dark-red waves cascade around her shoulders like molten lava. Devastating in her beauty.

‘Good morning,’ Eliza says, her voice sickly sweet. ‘I must say I’m pleasantly surprised by today’s turnout.’

A murmur goes around the table. Men uncomfortable beneath her unwavering stare. She’s long been a woman to fear, but the Stewarts have pushed her through an opening that has her blooming. Sure, the flower she has become is poisonous. Deadly. But delicate and beautiful, too.

I look around the table at the men watching her. Both the Kavanaghs and the Stewarts are looking sweaty and uncomfortable. Shifting in their chairs. Patrick leers openly at Eliza’s legs, and it’s a wonder I missed his leching for so long.

I wish I knew her plan.

You trust her.

Mrs Cairns passes Fraser, and they exchange a long look. And a nod. Then her gaze shifts to Eliza, who gives a tight smile.

‘Right,’ Eliza says. ‘Let’s get cracking, shall we?’

And from the way she says it, I’m thinking she might be talking about skulls.

37

ELIZA

I let the meeting go on for twenty minutes, biding my time. The longer we wait until things blow up, the easier it’ll be.

It’s time to rid our ship of the vermin. Long overdue, in fact.

Hector Stewart has been quiet for a time, but if looks could kill, I’d be dead as a doornail. I can tell it’s burning him up inside to avoid the elephant in the room. The same burn is tearing through me. What I want is to march over to him and cut his eyes out for daring to take my brother. But I have something better planned.

The mutterings and arguments are still going on when he finally stands up.

His two sons stand with him, both looking a little grey around the gills. They draw guns, and it takes everything I have not to draw my knife and throw it through his watery eyes. They set off a domino effect, everyone drawing weapons and pointing them at whoever they hate the most.

Several of them point at me.

I cross my arms and smile.

James, to my left, has gone still, his face a picture as he tries to figure out how the fuck we’re getting out of this alive. All in good time, pretty boy.

‘Hector,’ I say with a relaxed grin that I hope discomfits him.

‘This ends today, you stupid bitch.’ His voice breaks, and his gun hand trembles. ‘The Hamilton seat. Hamilton rule. All of it ends today. You killed my son. Fucking admit it! He never left this goddamned house.’

I unfold my arms and straighten my blazer. Walking around the table towards Hector slowly. His hand shakes harder with every step I take, and I send a little prayer up to the universe that those unsteady fucking hands don’t pull the trigger.

‘Eddie,’ I say, his name a scourge on my tongue.

‘You’ve been lying about what you did to my boy for fucking months. You put him in the ground, didn’t you?’