Page 9 of Love & Other Killers
“Aww, shucks. Lachlan wouldn’t be hiding in that garage over there, would he?”
It’s my turn to grin and his to glare. The truck door closes as Munster exits the vehicle, and we’re about to scramble back into the closet when Lark’s voice drifts like wind chimes through the window.
“Hi there! It’s Mr. Munster, right ...?” she asks.
We lean around the wall to look through the window again. Munster’s back is to us, Lark approaching from the direction of the machine shed, her steps light and carefree. Munster’s back is rigid with wariness. “Yes, ma’am, that’s right ... Who are you?”
“I’m Meadow,” Lark lies seamlessly as she comes to a halt a few feet from our prey. “My friend said you’re the one who made the great whiskey we had last night. We’re just staying a short walk from here, thought I’d come by and check if you had any that I could buy from you?”
The tension in Munster’s shoulders spirits away like gas. Lark tilts her head and smiles. It’s so warm, so beautiful. So seemingly naive. She looks like the definition ofeasy prey.Opportunities like Lark Kane surely don’t come around very often for a man like Munster.
“I most certainly do,” he says, his voice a little too slick, like it’s coated in the same engine grease that stained his hands when we met. “I’ve got a whole shed behind the house if you’d like to come on back and taste test a few?”
“That’d be great, thanks so much. Say, would you mind if I used your bathroom first? I’m absolutelydying.”
I can almost hear the grin that must be sneaking onto his face when Munster says, “Of course, come on in.”
Rowan and I hustle into the closet, sliding the bifold doors closed just as two pairs of boots land on the veranda. We’re facing one another in the shadows, jammed up among the coats and shoes and a Dyson vacuum cleaner.
“Try not to take advantage of me, Blackbird,” Rowan whispers as he closes what little space remains between us. He smiles down at me, a murderous glint shining in his eyes.
But I have no intention of losing to Rowan atanyof his games.
I sheathe my blade, laying a hand on Rowan’s chest to push him back until he bumps into the vacuum. Its quiet knock against the closet wall is lost to the sound of the front door opening and Munster’s voice as he tells Lark where to find the bathroom.
I rise on my tiptoes, my voice little more than a breath against Rowan’s ear. I press my body to his. Run my hands down the corded muscles of his arms, all the way to his wrists. “I think I can manage to keep my hands to myself.Almost.”
My teeth graze his earlobe. His hard cock presses against my stomach. Rowan shudders.
And three things happen at once.
Rose screeches, “Ta-da, motherfucker!”
Something whacks into a wall with ashunkas Munster shrieks an inaudible cry.
And I tighten a noose of fishing line to Rowan’s wrist, tying him to the looped handle of the vacuum.
“Gotta jump. It’s showtime,” I say as I whip Rowan’s blade from the sheath at his side and burst from the closet.
Munster is rising to his feet, a fiery anger burning in his eyes. Lark is helping Rose tug a hatchet free of the drywall. I spot Fionn through the open door, holding a squirming Barbara at arm’s length as she tries to claw at his face. And Lachlan is stalking toward us from the direction of the machine shed, heading straight for the open door of the house.
“Fucking crazy bitches—” Munster seethes as he tears a lamp off a side table and tosses it toward me. I duck. It hits the closet doorframe and shatters above me. Rowan’s free arm comes over my head as porcelain chips rain down around us.
“Lachlan, get that fucker,” Rowan calls as I duck out from under his protective wing, and he goes back to trying to wrestle free of the vacuum. Lachlan stops at the threshold. He crosses his arms, blocking Munster’s exit as Lark leaves Rose to the hatchet and takes swipes at the man with her knife. “What the fuck, you bellend?Kill him!”
Lachlan lifts a shoulder as Lark faces off with Munster, who repels her strikes with a metal chicken statue. “She’ll drug my muffins if I don’t let her win.”
Lark cackles.
With a triumphant shout, Rose finally manages to dislodge the hatchet and joins Lark’s side. I take up the center position to try to hem him in. And then there’s a sudden stillness. Time seems to stretch thin. It’s the kind of fraught moment where every second that follows happens in slow motion.
Munster throws the chicken statue at Lark. It hits her shins. She lets out a pained yelp and buckles. Lachlan shouts an irate “Christ Jesus” as he rushes toward her. Munster takes his shot and runs into the living room, not even glancing back. Rose draws her arm back and then lets the hatchet fly. It tumbles end over end, coming to a stop in Munster’s left ass cheek with a sickeningthwack. He lets out an agonized cry and pitches forward, landing on his hands and knees. I hear Rose heaving, but I’m already passing her.
The race is on. It’s just me and Rowan now.
We scramble toward our victim. Rowan is still tethered to the vacuum, but he’s wielding it like a club. Munster is up on his good leg now, limping into the dining room. Rowan’s free arm comes back to try to keep me behind him as he swings the vacuum with the other, the appliance traveling in a wide arc until connecting with the side of Allan Munster’s head.
Munster goes down hard. Rowan loses his balance with the momentum of the vacuum. And I’m right there, ready to claim my prize.
