Page 89 of Scandalous Contract

However, I didn’t have time for that. I was ready to see Stefanie, to feel her. I was ready to stop writing love letters on paper and write them on her body. I was ready to whisper those words in her ear and see her response in real time.

I was desperate to feel her body against mine. And I couldn’t do that until Scott was no longer a threat. Ready to get this over with, I pulled my ski mask over my face and removed my gun from my holster.

I double-checked the clip. It was loaded. I pushed it back into my holster and exited my car. I didn’t follow the dirt road to the house. I walked through the bushes and trees, not wanting to be caught out in the open.

This house had been abandoned for years. With no upkeep to the grounds, the weeds and grass in the front yard were nearly as tall as I was. There were no lights on in the house, making the place almost blend in with the night, its silhouette barely visible.

According to Rashad's intel, Scott was holed up here, hiding from creditors and the mess he'd created with his estranged family and their company. Dressed in all black, I moved silently through the overgrown yard.

The car in the driveway was Scott’s. Rashad had taken some photos of him in it. It wasn’t registered to him, however. It was registered to a deceased woman from Maryland. I didn’t know what had happened there, nor did I care.

I crouched beside the car and pulled out my blade. I punctured the tires. There would be no easy escape for Scott tonight. I slid my blade back into the side of my boot. I kept low, moving around the side of the house with my gun drawn.

I peered into the grimy windows one by one, pausing at each to look for any sign of movement or light inside. Nothing. The place looked empty. But Scott had to be in there. The camera Rashad put up on the tree across from the house showed Scott entering but not leaving.

He was inside. He had to be. I crept up to one of the side windows with its grime-covered glass. I found the cleanest spot and stared inside, looking and listening for movement. At first, there was nothing.

Then I heard something, a muffled sound. A voice, maybe. I couldn’t make out what was being said. It could’ve been a radio. It could’ve been a TV. I stood still, listening. The sound repeated after about fifteen seconds, appearing to be on a loop.

I remained frozen, wanting to confirm that. Yep. It repeated every fifteen seconds. It had to be Scott's phone playing a video on repeat, which meant wherever Scott was in the house, he was asleep.Perfect.

I reached up and tested the window latch. It wasn’t locked. I pushed it up slowly, bit by bit, stopping when the wood frame creaked. I waited. Listened. Nothing. No footsteps. No new voices. No doors creaking open.

I kept going, inch by inch, until the opening was wide enough for me to fit through. I climbed through the window, landing softly on the hardwood floor. I crouched low, back to the wall, gun pointed at the open door across the room.

The house smelled of old wood, dust and piss. You’d have to be in a bad situation to hole up in a place like this. I sat still for about ten seconds, eyes scanning the empty room, waiting to see if my entrance had been detected.

All I heard was the muffled sound coming from Scott’s phone. I stood slowly and followed the sound, walking cautiously, testing each of the old floorboards before putting my full weight on them.

I stepped into the hallway and stared left, then right. Facing right, I stared down the long hallway. The front door was just in front of me. Good to know. The muffled sound playing on a loop was coming from the room next to me.

I moved in that direction. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. I peered inside. There he was. Scott Pollard. He was asleep atop a dirty mattress on the floor. This was my chance to end this bullshit once and for all.

The door was open just enough for me to fit my gun inside. This had to be fate lining things up for me to get back to Stefanie. I slid my weapon through the opening and trained it on Scott’s skull.

A sharp clap split the silence. The wall in front of me exploded into splinters. I jerked back, guarding my face and ducking low just as a second bullet tore through the drywall where my head had been.

What the fuck?

Gunfire lit up the front of the house. Whoever was out there wasn’t aiming for me. They were lighting up the front door like they were trying to smoke someone out. Someone had to be at the back door, in case Scott ran.

Shit. I wasn’t the only one here to kill Scott Pollard!

My eyes snapped to the slightly ajar door before me when I heard movement inside the bedroom. Scott was awake, and he wasn’t wasting time trying to escape. The front door blasted open with a crash.

I sprinted across the hall, gun up, heart pounding in my ears. I burst into the bedroom in time to see Scott rushing through another door, ducking low as he ran. I chased after him, racing across the room, heading for the door he’d disappeared through.

A bullet sliced past my shoulder. I felt the heat of it a second before it struck the wall in front of me. I pivoted mid-stride, spinning just enough to take aim at the shadow in the doorway. Another shot rang out.Mine.

The target tried to move out of the way. I’d aimed for his chest, but ended up striking him in the shoulder.Fuck. The intruder stumbled out of view, cursing loudly. I took off after Scott, my boots thudding against the floor as I raced through the same door he’d gone through.

The door only led to another fucking bedroom. Every room in this damn house connected to another. Inside, I found Scott fighting off another guy in dark clothing. I guess the guy guarding the back door had grown impatient.

The guy had his back to me, shielding Scott from me. I fired, striking the man in the neck, his blood spurting onto Scott. As soon as the man’s grip on him eased up, Scott took off toward the hallway. I fired again.

Scott nearly slipped down. My bullet struck the far wall.Lucky motherfucker!Clutching his throat, the other intruder dropped to his knees. I approached him cautiously, looking for a weapon. I didn’t see one.

“Please,” he whispered, staring up at me.