Page 183 of Scandalous Contract

“Stefanie, call me back right fucking now. I’m not doing this with you tonight. Something’s happening at your house, and if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m going to break your fucking door down.”

I ended the call. I was going well above the speed limit, but I didn’t give a fuck. I took every turn fast, cutting corners like the laws didn’t exist. When I pulled up to the stop sign near her block, the camera updated.

The guy was back in frame. He was walking to the car again. There wasn’t anything in his hands. Had he tried to break in and failed? He got into his car and cranked it up. Then he drove off.

I was close enough now to see him pulling away from the curb. I stepped on the gas and took off after him, gripping the wheel tight enough to split the leather. I caught up within two blocks.

I pulled up beside him, riding close enough that if I swerved even a little, I’d scrape his door. I wanted him to know it was me. I wanted him to see my fucking face. He glanced at me for half a second before cutting right again, trying to shake me.

But I’d seen his face. Even with his hoodie pulled low, I knew it was Hudson fucking Howard. The bitch I should’ve been killed. He pulled off, putting some distance between us. I stayed on him like a shadow, matching every turn he made.

He sped up, so did I. He swerved. I followed. He took a fast left. I whipped around the corner, tires squealing. When we neared the bend near the trees, I saw my chance to put an end to this chase.

When he sped around the corner, I pulled up beside him and turned into his lane. He panicked. His tires screeched as he ran off the road, kicking up dirt and gravel before his car spun off into the ditch and came to a violent stop inches from a thick oak tree.

I braked hard and slid to a stop across the road. My engine ticked as I stepped out into the night. The air was cool, still, and the only sound besides my breathing was a distant dog barking somewhere down the block.

I walked toward the wreck, mentally noting that I needed to call the cleanup crew to get rid of his car. The driver’s door opened. Hudson climbed out, struggling, favoring one leg as if it hurt just to stand. When our gazes met, he started shaking his head. I nodded.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I said, rolling up my sleeves as I walked toward him. “Showing up at her house like I didn’t already warn you to stay the fuck away from my woman.”

He turned to run, but didn’t get far. His limp slowed him down. Every step looked painful. I let him run for a second, just long enough to enjoy the hope he felt. I could see the desperation in his stride.

He actually thought he had a chance.Fuck that!I closed the distance and grabbed the back of his hoodie. I yanked him down hard, slamming him into the dirt. I stood over him, fists clenched, heart racing.

“I told you to stay away from her,” I said.

He looked up at me, blood already trickling from his mouth, probably from the wreck. For a second, I saw fear crack through his cocky shell. Then he smiled. That disgusting, arrogant smile.

“She belongs to me,” he said, breathless and grinning. “I’ve worked too hard to let her go without at least fucking her once.”

That was the last thing he said before I snapped. My fist cracked against his jaw. His head bounced off the ground. I hit him again and felt cartilage shift under my knuckles. Blood sprayed from his nose.

The third punch split his lip wide open. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He swung at me, weakly. Sloppy. It caught the edge of my shoulder. I drove my knee into his stomach, and he folded like a piece of paper.

“You think this is a fucking joke?” I growled, grabbing his collar and yanking him to his feet. “You think you can stalk her, harass her, threaten her, and continue living as if nothing ever happened?”

I slammed him against a nearby tree so hard the bark cracked.

“She will never be yours,” I roared.

My breath came fast. Rage flooded my bloodstream. I thought about his connection to her ex-husband as I punched him again. This bastard had known her ex was hurting her, physically and emotionally.

Yet, he’d pretended to be her friend, even years after her ex died. He’d known the woman Stefanie was caring for was her ex’s mistress. He’d known her ex was planning to leave her. All he was worried about was fucking her.

That was never going to happen. This motherfucker was going to die tonight. I needed to make him suffer, though. He didn’t deserve a fast death. This bitch deserved to be tortured for stalking my woman.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” I muttered, dragging him through the grass toward my car.

“Let me go,” he whimpered, trying to reach for my hands.

“I’ll let you go soon. To hell,” I told him.

He spat blood, tried to roll his shoulder, and resist. But he wasn’t escaping my hold. When I reached my car, I popped my trunk, shoved him inside, and slammed it shut. Then I got behind the wheel, hands stained with his blood, and drove. I knew a place where I could torture this motherfucker to my heart’s content.Cattaneo’s Casino and Resort.

I was taking this motherfucker to the basement.