Mister Prick by Scott Hildreth

Author:Scott Hildreth [Hildreth, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eralde Publishing
Published: 2018-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

6

Vince

Marty’s family was wealthy. His father, a hedge fund tycoon who somehow made it through the banking collapse without getting arrested, was a billionaire. At his family’s insistence, Marty relocated from New Jersey to California with the intention of opening a string of high end health food stores.

He never opened the stores. Instead, he squandered what wealth they’d provided him on a beachfront mansion he rented – for one hundred and fifty grand a month – and took repeated weekend trips to Belize on chartered jets.

In an effort to replenish the vast amounts of cash that he’d blown, he began to dabble in drug sales. His biggest problem – of the many he developed – was that in his drug venture, he’d collaborated with one of the most notorious cartels in South America.

It was that one mistake that brought him onto my radar. The disappearance of his soon to be wife came at a time that I desperately needed to infiltrate the organization he was working with. So, I agreed to find her and return her to him.

Immediately following her return, they both disappeared. She went back to France. He simply vanished. Or, at least appeared to.

I now stood in his Escondido home and wondered how many times during the previous two years that we’d narrowly missed one another. I further wondered when the cartel would find him. It was only a matter of time.

I picked up the stacks of one hundred-dollar bills and shoved them in my bag. Contrary to what was commonly depicted in movies, two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in one hundred-dollar bills was nothing more than two big handfuls of currency.

Two six-inch stacks, to be exact.

“I can’t believe you’ve had the money all this time,” I said. “It pisses me off, to be honest.”

“Dude. I’ve been running on empty for like, ever.”

I hoisted the bag to my shoulder and looked the home over. It wasn’t a mansion, but in Southern California, even a modest two-bedroom ranch would cost upward of a million, and his home wasn’t modest.

“It sure doesn’t look like it,” I said.

“I’m still driving that Land Rover,” he whined. “Can’t afford to be buying new whips, like you.”

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing, Marty. I suggest you focus on yourself.” I glanced toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll give you a ride back to your car.”

“So, the chick in the car was a salesman? Woman? Or whatever?”

The fact he even noticed Jess made me angry. His asking caused my muscles to tense. I clenched my teeth and shot him a glare. “Yeah.”

He ran his fingers through his mop of hair and then began to leisurely saunter toward the door. “Here in Escondido?”

“Stay away from her, Marty,” I seethed.

“You’re not--”

“I’m telling you to stay away from her,” I said through my teeth. “I know where you live now. Remember that.”

“Dude, I was just--”

“Here’s a suggestion. Keep your mouth shut until we get back to my place. After tonight, we’ll never see each other again. Both of us will be happy.

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