The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

“Thank you,” I said, and slid the window up.

“I can buy you a minute,” she whispered. “No more.”

I threw a leg out and, ducking beneath the raised window, brought the other leg out until I was sitting on the sill. I looked down at the one-story drop into an alley that ran behind the college.

“Vega, I…”

“Don’t make me regret this,” she whispered, and gave me a shove.

I plummeted the ten feet, arms pinwheeling. The instant my feet contacted ground, I folded my knees and crashed onto my side. Despite the pain, I was up quickly. I tilted my face to where Vega resumed yelling at the spot where I’d been standing, carrying on the charade.

She was risking a lot to give me a head start, God love her.

I took off at a shambling run down the alleyway. I needed to make every second count.

Paces from breaking out onto Forty-fifth Street I realized my disguise was still in my pocket. I stuttered to a stop, strapped the dark-brown beard around my head, and pushed on my sunglasses. I then peered around the corner. Several police cruisers were parked along the side of the college. More would be rushing in soon. I needed a better disguise.

I spotted an aging wino squatting in the alcove of a shuttered business, flies buzzing around his fishing hat. Despite the summer heat, he was wrapped in a dirty brown topcoat. Bingo. I just hoped he’d socked away enough brain cells to perform a simple transaction.

“Hey,” I said, jogging towards him.

The rim of his stained fishing hat tilted up, and a whiskered face squinted from the shade.

“How much for the hat and coat?” I asked.

“How much ya got?” he asked back.

“How about a twenty?” I fished the bill from my wallet.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“Seriously?” I said, looking at the soiled articles. “That’s being very generous.”

“What? I’m supposed to jump up and shuck my duds at the first whiff of money? I’ve got more dignity than that. Besides,” he said, his eyes taking on a dangerous intelligence, “I know that panting voice. You’re on the run, my friend. Meaning I’m not just providing you goods, but a service.”

“Service?”

“You don’t want me to squeal to the boys in blue, do you? Give them an up-to-date description?” He winked as a yellow smile appeared inside his whiskers. “So let me ask you again. How much ya got?”

I swore as I leafed through my wallet. “One-forty,” I muttered.

He snatched the sheaf of bills, stuffed them away, and then shed his coat with exaggerated care. I looked over my shoulder, an anxious pressure ballooning my bladder. My minute was almost up.

“C’mon, already,” I said, shifting from one foot to the other.

The man stood and insisted on helping me into the coat—an act he also performed as if he had all week. Finally, he pried his hat from an oily pile of hair and pressed it down over my head.

He looked me up and down. “Out of this world!”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same,” I said, but referring to the coat’s god-awful stench. “Hey, could you see it in your heart to give me back a twenty? I don’t have anything for cab fare.”

“Read the fine print.” He clapped my shoulder three times. “All transactions final.”

My face burned at the man’s laughter, but I didn’t have time to argue. A block behind me, shouts were breaking from Midtown College, and I knew what that meant. Without turning, I assumed the staggering walk of the homeless. Plenty of those in Midtown, which was unfortunate for them, but very fortunate for me. The police would be looking for a professor.

“Good luck,” the man called after me, and laughed some more.

23

Police cars crawled past, canvassing the streets around the college. I continued my shuffling walk, eyes alert behind my sunglasses for signs of danger—such as the pair of officers up ahead, sticking their heads into businesses and taking a close look at the foot traffic.

Can’t appear alarmed, I thought, my pulse racing. Have to keep walking.

When the officers were almost to me, I staggered toward a man in business attire and petitioned him for change. The man grumbled, and a quarter landed in my palm. The police officers glanced at the exchange but kept walking. I needed to get the hell out of Midtown.

But where to go?

I squeezed the quarter as I considered my options. The apartment was out; NYPD would be all over the building. Thankfully, Tabitha would be okay on her own for a few days. She couldn’t get into the fridge, but she’d be able to access the pantry and run the water taps. Worst case, there were pigeons. She wouldn’t be happy about it, but she’d survive.

I shuffled through a short list of alternate destinations.

The East Village again? I shook my head. The abandoned buildings might hide me from mobsters but not from a determined police force that numbered in the tens of thousands. That went for any of the crumbling neighborhoods. I didn’t just need a hiding place this time; I needed protection.

I considered the two who had already offered me safe houses: Caroline and Arnaud.

I hated both options, frankly. The fae townhouse in the Upper East Side was closer, about thirty blocks north, but there was the Gazette article. If the fae had been the source of the fabricated story, regardless of Caroline’s role, I wouldn’t find safe haven among them now.

That left Arnaud and his fortified Financial District.

I swore at the fact I was even considering him. That would be another awful move, though. Besides the fact that Arnaud would only protect me to the extent he could use me, running to the vampires would slap a “guilty” moniker beside my name and ring it in bright red lights.

No, there had to be a third option.

More police cruisers appeared. Another foot patrol hurried along the sidewalk across the street from me. I continued my homeless shuffle, pausing