He walked out of the room, leaving a concerned Shock staring after him.
* * *
Temple skipped his final meal and sat in the same room Nash had used when he had been training at Shock’s facility. He had been in touch with Mindy, and also with the folks at Sybaritic. To all of them he was simply traveling around the world blowing off some steam and having some fun. You could do that when you were rich beyond all reason. Who could tell you no?
Despite his angry encounter with the man, Temple had to hand it to Shock. In a fairly short period he was stronger, faster, more nimble and limber, and he could process and analyze things he never even knew existed before. He had become a fine shot and could take apart weapons and put them back together relatively quickly. Yeah, he hadn’t busted his ass all the time, and never put in any extra training beyond what Shock had required, but it was enough. He wasn’t looking to be Rocky Balboa going into the ring against some asshole Russian. He just wanted to disappear in style and kick the occasional butt when he wanted to, probably to impress some ladies.
He had learned all about the killings at Steers’s estate. He also knew that Nash and Steers were not among the dead. He had no idea where they were. Maybe someone had killed them. That would ease his troubles immeasurably. In any event, Steers, if she was still alive, no doubt had bigger fish to fry than him and would probably stop looking for him.
I can drop out of sight and then go live my life however I want to.
His wealth was all there just waiting for a new identity to send it to. He had set up shell companies and blank wall enterprises in a labyrinth that would have made Steers proud.
It was all there, the finish line in clear sight.
But there was one stumbling block.
Mindy.
She confessed to Nash that I killed my father. What if she gets nervous, lets something else slip? What if the cops go to question her? Can she hold out? No, she’ll blab to try to save herself. And put me in prison for life with all my billions beyond my reach forever. You can’t have that, Rhett. No way.
And then something else occurred to him. Shock was going to put together his new identity. But then he’d know what that was. And he could tell Nash, if Nash showed back up. And they could easily find him that way if Mindy did tell all.
So any new identity from that guy is totally worthless. Which means I have no reason to hang around this place another minute.
He waited until it was late and Shock was asleep.
Then he slipped out with everything he’d brought with him. He’d also taken something that belonged to Shock but that he needed. Temple got into his Porsche and drove out of the gate.
Fortunately, Temple knew some people who could give him a new identity and maybe throw in a few tats as well for good measure. Temple had grown a Fu Manchu that might not impress many ladies, but he had the bucks to amaze them all he needed to. The training and rigorous diet he’d undergone had carved his features into a markedly different configuration. He had looked in the mirror several times and couldn’t swear it was him. Which was good. No, which was great.
He hit the gas, and the Porsche leapt forward.
Temple had some things to do and not a lot of time in which to do them.
He had killed before, now he just had to do it again. He had once grown sick at the sight of a murdered man. But no longer. He had muscles and fighting skills and he would get the tats, badass ones. The best money could buy.
Yes, he was a new man. And he had to get this done. Because the woman was standing in his way, after all he’d done for her. A quarter of a billion bucks, a beautiful home, plus an adorable kid, and all she had to do in return was keep her mouth shut.
And the bitch couldn’t even do that.
Well, unfortunately for you, here comes judgment day, Min, in the form of. . .me.
CHAPTER
78
NASH WAS DRIVING AND STEERSwas dozing in the passenger seat when his phone rang.
He instantly recognized the number. “Shock?”
Steers stirred, sat up, and looked at him curiously.
“Hey, Walter, look, man, we got a problem.”
“What?” said Nash, tensing.
“Your boy’s gone. Lit out sometime late last night.”