Page 96 of Scandalous Contract
LIGHTNING FLASHED THROUGHmy bedroom window, followed a second later by a clap of thunder. A storm was coming. But my mind wasn’t on the weather. It was on the Clark family. Both Aaron Clark Senior and Junior were locked up, awaiting trial.
The evidence against them was substantial. Two women came forward, stating that Junior had assaulted them. One was left in critical condition for weeks, as confirmed by hospital records.
Neither woman filed a complaint because Senior paid them off and threatened their families. Aiden had provided the security footage from his hotel to the police, proving that both the older and younger Clark had been at his hotel the last night the maid worked.
Cameras near the employee entrance showed a young woman clocking out the next morning, using the maid’s credentials. That young woman was the girlfriend of the front desk clerk who’d worked with the maid that night.
Both he and his girlfriend were now in jail. The maid’s family came forward and said they’d wanted to contact the police and file a missing person’s report, but Aaron Senior sent someone to silence them.
When the maid’s sister tried to contact the police in secret, she was killed too. The evidence was irrefutable. Even with the best lawyer money could buy on their side, those two weren’t beating this.
I was surprised by how nicely that had wrapped up. Neither Senior nor Junior was a threat to me or my family now. However, it was Scott Pollard who was keeping me from going to Stefanie.
That bitch was still lying low, and so far, I hadn’t been able to pin him down at any of the addresses associated with him. Both Aiden and I had PIs searching for him. Yet he kept slipping through our fingers.
There would be no taking over the company for him. The board had already sent someone to handle the business. Scott knew he’d lost his chance of getting money out of the Clark family.
He damn sure couldn’t extort it from the Cattaneos or Aiden Park and his family. So, now he was on the run from me and his debt collectors. I needed to find him before they did. If they found him first, I’d have no way to confirm his death if they got rid of the body properly.
I’d forever wonder if he was alive or dead. I’d forever be looking over my shoulder and worrying about Stefanie, her daughter, and my family. That was not a life I wanted to lead. Therefore, I was determined to be the one who killed him.
That’s why I was seated on the edge of my bed, dressed in all black with a duffle bag at my feet, awaiting the text from Rashad. He’d placed a tracker on Scott’s newest stolen car a couple of hours ago.
It had to be one of those cheap ones because he’d lost the ability to track Scott for a while due to the weather. But the last hit he’d gotten had been near Cattaneo Casino and Resorts. If it turns out he was there, that would be perfect.
I could ask one of my cousins to snatch him up and hold him until I arrived. But I had to be certain before I made that call. For now, I waited. Impatiently. My phone dinged. I checked it quickly, hoping it was a text from Rashad.
It was something better. I smiled at the notification telling me that Stefanie had posted to social media. I clicked on her profile. It was a picture of her sipping from a cup of coffee with a blueberry muffin on a napkin in front of her.
The caption read:It’s a First Weather Alert Day. I’ll be with you all morning, tracking the storms and helping you stay alert. What keeps me alert? Coffee and muffins. I really needed this. Thank you!
Thank you? Did she really say thank you? To me? On her social media? I couldn’t stop smiling. The post already had likes and comments. I clicked to read through them. Some people were saying things like:
That’s so sweet!
A real man makes sure his woman has hot coffee each morning!
Coffee and muffins... Yum!
You have a boyfriend? I want to see pics.
Lucky you! All my man gave me this morning was a headache.
Then there was one that read:Focus on the weather, please.
My frown faded as I clicked on that person’s profile.Andrew Richards from Gulfport, MS.
“You must want to fucking die, Andrew Richards,” I mumbled as I stared down at his photo.
My phone dinged again. This had to be a text from Rashad. It had to be. I needed to know where Scott was. I’d burned down all of his usual hideouts, prompting the city to be on the lookout for an arsonist.
I had to be careful this time. I wouldn’t burn this house down. I exited the app and checked my text. Finally, a message from Rashad. I got a hit on Scott Pollard. I snatched up my duffle bag. It was time to go.
The GPS said it would take me forty minutes to get to him. By the time I was backing out of my driveway, the rain had started. Ten minutes into the drive, it was pouring down, making it hard to see on the highway.
I reached for my phone, pulled up the local weather app, and hit play to listen to their live coverage.Hervoice filled the car, cutting through the chaos outside. Just hearing her speak settled something in me.
I’d been riled up, ready to get this over with. Rushing to bring death to Scott Pollard. But her voice calmed me. I took a deep breath and released it slowly as I listened to her. Yeah, I was still rushing to get this shit done.
