Page 4 of Love & Other Killers
Behind me is Lark, standing so close I catch her citrus scent on the breeze. She’s taken her indie singer-songwriter look to full heights this morning with her long blond locks tied up in a multicolored fabric wrap and patches from music festivals sewn onto her distressed overalls. She’s adorablysunshiny, but I know her giant bag carries not only enough snacks to sustain us all for days in the woods but also the tools to make her next victim into crafts. On my other side is Rose, who’s now dosed up on her anti-nausea medication and ready to “cut that fucker up,” as she’s said at least ten times this morning. Even Barbara has joined us, because “she can’t be left to her own devices or she’ll figure out how to open the fridge, and we’ll end up having to pump her stomach,” and she growls when Rowan takes a single step closer.
“Same thing you are, Blackbird,” Rowan says, a self-satisfied smirk lifting the corner of his lips where his scar cuts straight through the pink flesh. His bloodshot eyes dart toward the escarpment where I already know a steep slope will reveal our hunting ground. Allan Munster’s chicken farm.
I scoff, memories of our second Annual August Showdown surfacing. Rowan had followed me around, scavenging for clues about our target. It was infuriating. And adorable, though I hated to admit it at the time. I didn’t think a man like him could love a woman like me—a woman so broken. So alone. I spent a lot of time convincing myself I didn’t deserve it, and that meant it wasn’t real. And though I know differently now, and I love my husband with every ounce of a heart I once wasn’t sure could love anyone, I also want to beat him in this game.Mercilessly.
“You cheated,” I snap.
“Youcheated. You went into that barn dance to do recon.”
“Andyou’rethe one who said we should get Conor to book us a decent Airbnb with a hot tub, pretty boy. It’s not my fault we all knew the general location a day early. Plus, there’s nothing in the rules to say I couldn’t go to a fucking barn dance.”
“I’m sure you could have joined her if you hadn’t been dressed like a dumpster goblin,” Rose pipes up over myshoulder. Rowan’s smirk dissolves into a troubled frown and he rubs his cheek, his skin still stained green from the poster paint he slathered on it yesterday in a misguided attempt to bring my Sol cosplay fantasies to life a second time.
Fionn snickers. “She’s got you on that one.”
“Shut up, you birdseed-eating twat.” Rowan moves to whack Fionn in the arm, but his younger brother is too fast and dodges the hit. Fionn in turn strikes out at Lachlan and lands a blow.
“You little shit. What was that for?”
“The ‘birdseed-eating twat’ thing,” Fionn says. “You can’t tell Rowan that shit, he’ll never shut up. And I’m taller than you, in case you haven’t noticed. Asshat.”
“We were here first,” I interject as the brothers threaten one another with glares and curses. I take a step closer. “You need to leave.”
Rowan pouts, but his eyes are far too bright with amusement. “Peaches—”
“I will cut your fucking balls off, Rowan Kane—”
“Blackbird.Love.” He closes the distance between us and carefully grasps my elbows. Though I try to glare at him, it’s so hard to do when he smiles at me with such teasing warmth. His scar lightens a shade as his smile tugs at the edges of the straight line. God, he’s so fucking pretty it hurts. “We can share.”
I try to scowl. Judging by Rowan’s smile, I’m not very successful. “I want to win, not share.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Then what do we get out of this sharing deal, hmm?” I press a palm to his chest and gather the fabric in a fist, coaxing him closer, letting my gaze drag from his lips to his eyes with a long, slow pass of heat. “We should get something out of it, pretty boy.”
As much as he might try to seem unaffected by my warmth and my scent, by the closeness of my body or the undisguised want written across my face, Rowan’s throat bobs with a swallow. He looks like he wants to take a step back but can’t make himself do it. “Something ...? L-like?”
“We should at least get just a little head start.” My gaze lingers on his lips. A blush rises in his green-tinted skin.
Lachlan claps a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Feckin’ eejit. Don’t do it, man—”
“Leave him alone, Budget Batman,” Lark pipes up, her voice sweet and teasing despite the reproach. “It’s their game and we’re just living in it. Let the happy couple negotiate their terms.”
I smile, my eyes never straying from Rowan’s face as Lachlan grumbles a string of swears and lets his hand fall from his younger brother’s shoulder. One of my fingers draws a slow circle on Rowan’s chest, and he shivers beneath my touch. “I think we should get a one-hour head start, given we arrived here first.”
“No feckin’ way,” Lachlan snarls. “Zero head start.”
“Half an hour—”
“Blackbird.” Rowan folds a hand over mine and makes a half-hearted attempt to release himself from my grasp. He jerks his head in Lachlan’s direction. “That asshat will punch me in the throat. I don’t want to be punched in the throat.”
“Twenty minutes.” I press in closer, slipping my thigh against his hardening cock as he tries to cover a groan with a cough.
Lachlan heaves a dramatic sigh behind him. “Feckin’ Christ Jesus—”
“Fine, Blackbird. Twenty minutes,” Rowan says to a chorus of swears from his brothers and triumphant laughter from my friends. I release him and step back with a victorioussmirk as he tries to adjust the bulge in his jeans. “But we are still going to win.”
“Sure you are.” I give him a pat and then turn toward Rose and Lark with a beaming smile before I shrug my backpack from my shoulders, retrieving my binoculars from the front pocket. “I guess we might as well take a look together.”
