Chapter 13
When Humphrey exited Stone’s office, he took a deep, steadying breath, then set off down the street toward where he’d left his car.
The reading of Trenton’s will had not gone as he’d expected.
He’d known for more than two years that the college was in line to receive a portion of Trenton’s estate. Trenton himself had told him as much. What the billionaire hadn’t mentioned was the amount or that there would be conditions on how the money was to be used.
Both issues were not only unsatisfactory but detrimental to his future. He had to find a way to fix this.
He was a block from Stone’s office when a nearby car honked. He jerked in surprise, then looked over and saw a sedan pacing him.
The passenger-side window lowered, and Andre Parker grinned at him from the driver’s seat.
“What the hell?” Humphrey muttered.
He looked around to make sure no one else was paying him or the car attention, then he hurried over to the open window and leaned down.
“What are you doing here?” Humphrey asked. “You know we can’t be seen together.”
“Relax. No one cares about two people talking.”
“What do you want?”
“What do you think I want?”
“I told you I’ll send you the rest as soon as my business is settled.”
Andre nodded his head back toward the lawyer’s office. “Isn’t that what you were doing in there?”
“That was just the first step. It’s going to take a little time.”
“How much time?”
“A few weeks. Maybe a month.”
Andre winced and sucked in a breath. “Not sure that’s going to work for me.”
“I can’t make things go any faster than they already are. There are procedures for things like this. Steps that must be followed.”
“I suppose,” Andre said. “But just know I’ve got my eyes on you, so don’t even think about trying something funny. That is unless you want to take a little swim, like your friend.”
“You don’t need to threaten me. You’ll get your money. I promise.”
Andre held out his pinkie finger.
“What’s that for?” Humphrey asked.
“Pinkie swear.”
“Are you kidding me? What are you? A child?”
Andre wiggled the finger. “Come on.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Humphrey reached in with his pinkie, but before he could wrap it around Andre’s, Andre grabbed his wrist and yanked Humphrey’s head into the car and growled, “Do not play games with me.”
“I’m not,” Humphrey pleaded. “Really!”
Andre locked eyes with him for a few seconds before shoving him out of the car.
“Two weeks,” he said.
“I told you. It might take longer?”
“Not my problem. See you, Ollie.”
“Don’t call me—”
Andre drove away before Humphrey could finish.
Andre was not an idiot. He knew Humphrey wouldn’t have the money immediately, but he also knew that people like him needed reminders about the debts they owed.
So when Humphrey had mentioned that he would be in New York to discuss the will, Andre had followed him.
The surprise in the guy’s eyes when he realized Andre was waiting for him was priceless. Andre could almost smell the fear coming off him.
The memory of it made him smile.
Ahead, the traffic light was turning yellow. With no one in front of him, Andre punched the gas and shot through the intersection just as the signal flipped to red.
A half block later, he saw flashing lights in his rearview.
“Well, shit,” he muttered.
A motorcycle cop was right behind him, motioning for Andre to pull over.
As much as he wanted to ignore him, Andre knew he had to play the good little citizen. He spotted an open area at the curb and guided the car to it.
Fifteen minutes later, he was on his way again, a crumpled-up traffic ticket on the passenger seat.
The NYPD could give him as many tickets as they wanted, but they would never see a dime from him, because soon he’d be leaving the country for good.
He’d made a good living doing the dirty jobs others couldn’t, but what Humphrey was going to pay him was on a whole different level.
Andre would have done the job for half a million, but it was clear this was Humphrey’s first time hiring a hitman, and he had no idea about the going rates.
Before Andre could even quote him a price, the idiot had offered him five million dollars, then immediately doubled it, obviously worried that the first number had been too low.
Andre had squeezed the promise of another five million out of him before accepting the job.
Once he had the cash in hand—or, more specifically, in an offshore bank account—he’d be gone.
The thought made him smile, and he broke a few more traffic laws on his way home. He was almost disappointed that he didn’t get pulled over again.