Shelby - Mandy Harbin Page 0,63
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 the man walked in, Mason stood. Ahh, Dave. The man who was at the club last night with Shelby. “Viola’s husband,” he muttered.
Dave nodded and walked toward his desk. Mason didn’t like mixing his personal and professional lives, so he’d be ending this even sooner than he’d hoped. The guy was probably here to avenge Shelby on his wife’s behalf. Whatever he had to say would be wasting precious breath. His private life might not get drawn into his professional one as a general rule, but Shelby was completely off fucking limits. Period.
“Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it,” he said, obviously reading the scowl on Mason’s face. He stepped over to one of the chairs across from Mason and sat. Intrigued, Mason eased back down and stared across his desk at him.
“Mr. Showalter, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Katie said, buzzing into his office again. “Mr. Baxter would like to see before your meeting.”
“Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.” If Mason