Page 98 of Rival for Rent

He pointed towards the dining room. “Shove the table out of the way. Then loop the rope over the chandelier.”

My heart was pounding, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as I followed orders. All the while, my mind spun in frantic circles. Should I run for it? He’d probably shoot me, but maybe that would look more suspicious than a staged suicide.

Back door? No, he’d expect that. If I rushed him, maybe I could knock him over and bolt for the front. I’d followed every instruction so far, so he wouldn’t expect a sudden attack. Maybe I could even get the gun from him.

But he was standing halfway across the room now. That was too much space. Too much time for him to react, recover, and shoot me before I reached the door.

“Now put a chair underneath the chandelier and climb up on it,” Myers said.

“They’re still going to think my death is suspicious,” I said, my voice high and thin with fear. “Even if you make it look like suicide. The security company is going to notice that I died while the cameras were off. Andyou’rethe one on record as asking them to do that. Or your friend at the FBI. If he sees that I’m dead, he’ll recognize the name and know something’s wrong.”

“He doesn’t give a shit,” Myers said. “I told him you were a suspect in a murder. And the company can think whatever they want—there won’t be any proof. Now get up on that chair.”

I looked down at Bella, still watching me with her big sweet eyes. She was keeping away from Myers now, not wanting to get kicked again. But she didn’t show a hint of aggression. I swallowed and thought about Mason.

Mason, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. Just know this isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. And know that I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.

I took a slow step back towards the chair—and the front door swung open as Mason burst inside.

Myers spun around and shot his gun. I dropped the rope and ran forward, terrified Mason had been hit. I grabbed for the gun in Myers’s right hand, and he turned and punched me hard in the face. My vision exploded into stars and blackness, and I fell to the floor, breath leaving my lungs.

“You piece of fucking shit,” Myers raged. It took me a second to realize he was talking to Mason. “You’re supposed to be out of the house.”

“I was,” Mason said, his voice grim and steady. “Until I realized that phone call tonight was a fake.”

Why did he sound so calm? Why wasn’t he trying to wrestle the gun away?

I pressed a hand to my face and forced my eyes open. My vision swam, but I could make out Mason advancing, slow and deliberate, across the living room.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Myers threatened.

“No, you won’t,” Mason said. “That’s your service firearm. It would be tracked back to you.”

“I’ll say you went crazy,” Myers spat. “That one of you grabbed it and shot the other, then himself.”

“That still won’t take care of the fact that the tracker in your shoe proves you were here the night I was attacked and again tonight. That’s way too suspicious.”

“What tracker?” Myers snapped as I struggled to my feet.

“The one I stuck in the sole of your shoe,” Mason said, his voice hard. “The night you and your friends beat me on the front steps. The one that sat in the police station all week—until it started moving again tonight.”

“It’s not proof,” Myers sneered. “Circumstantial at best.”

“True,” Mason said, calm as ever. “Which is why I’ve been recording this whole conversation, and sending it directly to a friend.”

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized Mason’s phone was in his hand, held out at arm’s length. Myers noticed it at the same time I did, and three things happened at the same time.

Myers launched himself at Mason. I launched myself at Myers. And Bella—sweet, gentle Bella—snarled viciously and launchedherself at both of us. Another shot rang out as I knocked Myers to the floor. The gun flew from his hand and skidded to the far side of the dining room. And Myers screamed as Bella’s teeth clamped onto his neck.

Mason rushed over, putting his left hand on Myers’s back, pressing him down. He moved his right hand, sling be damned, to my shoulder, and peered into my eyes. His face was drawn tight with worry as he knelt beside me.

“Did he hurt you? Are you alright?”

“No. I mean—yes. He didn’t hurt me. Only that one punch. He didn’t do anything else. I’m more worried about Bella than I am about me.”

Mason frowned at the side of my face, then gave a small nod. “You’re gonna have a shiner for sure. But if that’s all he did, you’ll be alright.”

I laughed weakly. “We’ll match.”

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