Her purse had been dropped by the door, so she’d grabbed it before fleeing. She didn’t care that she was half naked. She clutched the shirt closed and ran barefoot to her car. It still wasn’t daybreak, so no one was around to see her leaving. No one except whoever watched the club while she was there.
Hopefully, the information she got from him today was enough to get a warrant, so the FBI could focus their investigation on him and William Baxter. If it was, the surveillance teams could disband because her involvement with Mason would be effectively over.
Her breath hitched as she started her car and pulled out onto the road.
It can’t be over if it never began.
Chapter Sixteen
Mason slammed his desk drawer and waited for his laptop to boot up, determined to focus on the new nightmare before him and not the one brewing in his personal life.
One minute he was pushing Shelby away, and the next he was trying to figure out how to keep her in his life…only to push her away again. Seeing the look of hurt on her face as she left gutted him. Because it held more than rejection. In its depths was understanding. It was as if she knew things could never really work between them, regardless of any feelings brewing.
Deep down, he knew it, too. Love would not be enough. He was strong enough to admit how he felt, and smart enough to put it aside. Frankly, he had no other choice now. The phone call he’d gotten from William this morning drilled that point home.
The only thing that man was good at was fucking things up and screwing people over. The son of a bitch had moved some money from one of the funds started by Fieldstein—a fund that Mason now managed—into a shell business. He purposely left a paper trail leading to Mason as the one behind the illegal activity. He didn’t stop there either. William even posted some large unscheduled deposits into Mason’s 401k and diverted more into an overseas bank account that had his fucking name all over it.
His boss was now blackmailing him.
He’d told Mason he was working something huge on the Culpepper Hedge Fund, confirming what Mason had learned from his source. Now, William needed him to move money out of it before the quarterly projections were finished, so it coincided with the earnings they would be showing to investors. It seemed the meeting with their Tokyo counterparts hadn’t been as fruitless as Mason had believed. Because Mason had disposed of Carl, William believed he’d be willing to take the plunge to the dark side and join him in working the Ponzi scheme.
With a little coaxing.
If Mason agreed, William would fix the mess he caused, and Mason would go back to being as clean as a whistle—on paper.
If he didn’t, then William would hang him out to dry. In an orange jumpsuit at a minimum-security prison.
As soon as Shelby had left, he’d called his silent partner on the untraceable phone and had relayed everything. Mason was ready to pull the plug on his plan and deal with William himself, but the man had talked him into playing along, convincing him this was a good thing. William was finally showing his hand, so it was only a matter of time before they’d get him. He’d assured Mason he would get his name off that money in the meantime and intercept the transaction William was forcing him to make. Mason had finally relented.
So, here he was, in his office at Fieldstein and Baxter, logging into the firm’s most prestigious hedge fund, and stealing money for William. If this didn’t work, he was sealing his fate. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new job when the shit hit the fan. He’d just have to worry about not dropping the soap. If he didn’t believe his contact would pull through for him, no way would he do this, but he knew problems could always arise. The risk was still a major one.
It was surreal how quickly it took to steal millions of dollars. A few clicks, some highly secured passwords, and the deed was done. When he’d called William to update him, his boss had given him half-hearted praise and rushed off the phone. If the prick didn’t fix the mess he’d caused, Mason would ensure it got done anyway.
At least he seriously hoped he’d be able to.
His assistant buzzed him, drawing him out of his frustrating thoughts. “Mr. Showalter?”
“Yes, Katie?”
“There’s a David Lane here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says he knows you. Security won’t let him up since his name isn’t on your calendar.”
Mason frowned, trying to remember someone by that name. He was good with them. In this business, he had to be. It wasn’t ringing a bell, though, and he didn’t have time to catch up with some guy who thought they were old college buddies or something. “I have a meeting with Joel Fieldstein in thirteen minutes. Go down and get his number. I’ll give him a call.”
“Yes, sir. I already told Jerry to tell him you were heading out soon, but he’s insisting it’ll only take a few minutes.”
Mason rubbed his face and sat back in his chair. “Fine, send him up.” Whoever it was, he’d get rid of him. Because of the crap with William, Mason hadn’t had time to read over the agenda for his meeting with Joel.
When
