Montgomery Scott Novels & Stories

“Scott! Scott Kelly!” He choked on his drink at the sound of his birth name being yelled in the air. Shit, who is that? He coughed as he turned around to see Bart Guthrie. He was a swamp lizard from New Orleans who had a house in NOLA and a house around the Glades in Florida. Scott wiped his mouth with his hand as Bart approached him. He had a young girl on each arm. They were both blondes. “Scottie, you elusive sum bitch! I haven’t seen you since we closed that deal on the lake property in Miami,” the sixty-five-year-old said with a big smile.

Ronnie was saying but Scott interrupted him. "You liar! are you saying you are known this for the past five years?" Scott yelled kicking him again. "Is no one going to listen to me here?" Martin yelled. "You want to know the truth? Fine!" Scott screamed. "I killed Jaden that night five years ago!" Scott yelled. "I killed him for the glory but I couldn't live with myself after that so I broke the team off from them and we've made it so far without them until I found out that someone amongst us had been telling them our secret," Scott yelled.

I smiled inwardly, loving the way his face clouded, and I wanted to believe so much that it was from jealousy and nothing else. “Who are you?” This time, Dad didn't speak to me. He spoke to Scott. Scott sat up on the couch, hands joined, acting perfectly, like the boyfriend I begged him to be. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he looked nervous. “Sir, I'm Scott Walker Stone. I'm eighteen years old. I was born in January, so I'm six months older than Matt. My mum is an alpha and my dad is an omega. I'm the only child of my family, and they hope I can get an ….” He cleared his throat. “They hope I can be outstanding in everything I do. I'm also the best student in the entire school

I shook Scott until he opened his eyes. "Argh damn! She punched me by surprise! She gave me a hard punch without a warning. That little girl is a bitch!" Scott shouted pointing at Ian. “She’s not a woman, he’s Ian Mercado of the Reds he’s protected by the Rubicunds and Rogues,” Colton said. "Really but she's beautiful, she looks like a woman, she's a man. Then I'll give her a taste." Scott said and stood up. I sat down for a bit and just listened to them.

All we can hear from now is his steps. “Sure boss” Scott’s face appears on the screen and I smile at the state of him. He is all bruised, dirty and he’s got some broken bones. He hasn’t been allowed to go to the toilet so he stinks of urine and faeces. I needed him to break and tell me everything he knew.

“I’m not small.” “I know,” he said. “They don’t.” A knock hit Scott’s window. All four of them froze. Scott opened the door and stepped out. Outside stood Malcolm Price. Suit. Smile. Calm eyes. Like he had walked there to see if they would break. Freeda opened her door before Winnie could stop her. “Freeda,” Winnie hissed. Freeda stepped out. “I’m done being pushed around.” Scott moved between her and Malcolm without touching either of them.

Then sat up to find out things I didn’t know about Scott. But as I read, something twisted deep in my chest. Scott McAllen, 27. Talented painter. Mother died of cancer two years ago after a brutal fight. He’d taken out multiple high-interest loans to cover her treatments—over $120,000 total across different sharks. The last one from a guy named Raymond was the worst. He’d sold personal art pieces, worked odd jobs, and yes… slept with men for emergency cash when things got bad.

''You witnessed the old lad sentenced to his early grave, Smith, don't you? ''Jack has his cunning ways, ma'am,'' said the second Lieutenant, Scott, ''I was a survivor of the team that drove the Black-Maria to execute Jack before the deadly Mafia attacked us and hijacked him from us.'' Scott fixed his gaze on Miriam's countenance and hoped he had crushed her claim. ''To be honest, though,'' Scott continued, ''i'm not quite aware of what became of Jack after the mafia attacked us in the Gobi desert. But my gut tells me that he was the mastermind behind the attack. The old bastard must have run loose afterwards.''

His eyes stared into mine without concern and a calmness to them as if he thought I was insane or overreacting. My heart that had been calm began racing as I tried to process the information that I was about to spend three days in the same house with a man that has a huge and well-known reputation for being a killer, a drug dealer and possibly a sex trafficking. Wasn’t that what the mafia was all about? And arms sales? I couldn’t stop staring at Scott in disbelief as I still couldn’t piece it together that Scott was the heir to a mafia empire, built on blood and violence. Just when I thought I’d gotten to know the man, he dropped an even bigger shocker as if to inform me that I was getting t

"What do you want, Scott?" A low, raspy chuckle came through the line. "Still so formal. No 'hello, Father'? After everything I spent on your skating coaches?" "State your business," I said, forcing my voice into a flat, steady line. "I am standing in the rain outside a dockside tavern on Ninth Street," Scott said, his tone dropping the fake warmth. "The Anchor & Chain. You know the place. Your mother used to hide there when I lost the house money." ***