Page 40 of Ruthless Contract
The last thing I needed was a loud noise echoing through the house. I eased him to the floor and glanced around me. The hallway beyond was empty. There was an open door to the left with light spilling out into the hall.
That had to be the security room. I started toward it only to pause when static sounded. I looked back just as a voice came through the walkie-talkie hooked to the dead guard’s waist.
What now?
It wasn’t time for the other guards to check in yet. However, the tremor in the speaker’s voice let me know my plan was going wrong even before he got his full sentence out.
“H-hey, Watchman. This is North Face. Uh, we have a problem. Perimeter breached. For real this time, man. I was heading to the back door to use the bathroom, and I found West Face on the side of the house, dead. He’s been shot. In the head. What do I do?”
Shit.
"Watchman? Watchman, you there? Fuck. East Face and Front Gate, I'm going inside. Meet me at the back.”
For a split second, I considered staying right where I was. North was coming inside. East and Front Gate would be right behindhim. I could stay and take them out. But they weren't my target. Pasquale was.
Every second I wasted dealing with guards was another second my cousin had to realize something was wrong and disappear. I hadn't come this far to leave without killing him. Decision made, I lowered my duffle, opened it, and pulled out a canister of commercial-grade tear gas.
I didn’t have time to put a mask on. The radio continued crackling behind me. I overheard someone giving instructions to follow protocol. I had no fucking idea what their protocol was.
All I knew was that my protocol was to kill Pasquale and whoever got in my way. I opened the lever and placed the canister in the corner. Then I fled the room, closing the door behind me, hoping the gas had time to fill the air and slow down the other guards.
At the end of the hall, I stopped and placed another canister of gas in the corner before fleeing down the next hall. This fucking section of the house was like a maze. I tightened my grip on my weapon and continued moving.
The next door I opened led to a foyer. A massive chandelier hung overhead. Paintings of half-naked couples covered the walls. I didn’t have time to process why Pasquale had some shit like that in his house.
I turned left and kept running. I knew his bedroom was on the East side of the estate. At the end of the hall, I turned left and entered a dining area. My gaze swept the room. Long table. High-backed chairs. China cabinet. More half-naked artwork.
No Pasquale. No guards.
I continued moving, my eyes sweeping the area. The second I spotted the staircase against the wall to my left, relief hit me. I rushed forward, racing up the steps, determined to find and kill my cousin before the guards found both of us.
At the top of the stairs, I stared down another hallway and sighed. I started forward, moving carefully, listening for sound behind any of the doors I came to. Two doors down, I heard a phone ringing. I crept forward as a voice sounded from the other side.
“What? This better be important. I’m waiting on a call.”
Pasquale.
I’d found him.
“What the fuck do you mean West is dead?”
I moved forward and cautiously tested the doorknob. It was locked.Fuck. I would have to kick the door in, making my presence known, giving him a chance to get a weapon. I had no other choice.
I took a step back, thankful that I wouldn’t feel any pain. I lifted my leg and kicked the door as hard as I could. The entire door shook as the frame cracked and wood splintered around the lock.
The door flew inward from the force of my kick. I didn’t waste time waiting for the entire thing to hit the ground. I was already moving. Gun raised, I rushed into the room, knocking the door down and stepping onto it just as a shot rang out.
My body jolted.
Instinctively, I fired back. Pasquale dove behind the bed. The bullet struck the window, shattering it. I staggered a step and looked down. There was a hole in my shirt... just below my left shoulder. The fabric was dark and wet. I touched it. My fingers came away red.
The bastard had shot me.
And I’d felt absolutely nothing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROME
