Blood Money (8 page)

“We don’t appear to be under too much right
now.”

“Oh, I guarantee it’s pretty hot up where we
came from,” Kelton said. “And it will eventually spread down this
way. After those guys have a chance to organize and mobilize,
they’ll be scouring the streets for us. Or you, at least, since
they don’t know what I look like.”

“But by the time they get to that point,
you’ll have gotten rid of me, so you’ll be in the clear.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Still,” Jessica said. “They’ll be looking
for me, right?”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t sweat that. I’m sure
Walter has a plan to deal with that situation. He’s got some
experience with new identities.”

“Did he take care of yours?”

Kelton shook his head. “No, I did that on my
own. But he has procured some new ID’s for me over the years.”

“How many do you have?”

Kelton shrugged. “A few. In my line of work,
you can never be too careful.”

“I suppose you can’t,” Jessica said,
stifling a yawn. “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed this conversation,
I’m afraid I don’t have the energy for much more. You don’t mind if
I get a little sleep, do you?”

“Not at all. I’ll wake you when we get
there.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was just after 5PM when they pulled into
Kelton’s driveway. In an effort to neutralize the ever-curious eyes
of his neighbors, he parked in the garage and entered the house
from there.

With Kelton leading the way, they passed
through the laundry room and into the living room, which was
dominated by bookshelves completely covering two of the walls. He
quickly checked the rest of the house, but nothing was out of
place.

When he arrived back in the living room,
Jessica was standing in front of the shelves, her arms spread out
wide.

“Holy crap,” she said. “I know you said you
were a reader, but my god. There must be a thousand books
here.”

“Twelve hundred and eighty-one,
actually.”

Jessica glanced over at him, the smile on
her face fading as she realized he was serious. “Have you read all
of them?”

“I wish,” Kelton said. “I’ve probably gotten
through about sixty percent, but I’m always adding more, so I doubt
I’ll ever actually catch up.”

Jessica wandered over to the nearest shelf
and started looking at the titles. “You’ve got eastern philosophy
books next to science fiction next to poetry next to classic
literature. What kind of order are these things in?”

“They’re shelved at random. That way, when
I’m searching for something specific, I’m forced to look at every
book. It keeps me from skipping over the same ones constantly.
Helps me look at them all anew, every day.”

Jessica turned her attention from the
bookshelves to the rest of the room. It was a standard set-up;
entertainment center against one wall, complete with television,
DVD player and stereo system, desk against the other wall with an
open laptop, a couch, a recliner.

“It’s all so . . . domestic,” she said.

“What did you expect?”

“From you? Who knows? A dojo, maybe an
indoor shooting range, something crazy like that. Certainly not a
traditional setup.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh, I’m not disappointed,” Jessica said.
“Just a little surprised. And not necessarily in a bad way.”

Kelton wasn’t sure what kind of a reaction
she was trying for. He decided a change of subject was the easiest
way to deal with it. “I was thinking about making something to
eat,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

He walked into the kitchen, opened up the
refrigerator. “You feel like anything specific?”

“What have you got?” Jessica said, her nose
back in the bookshelves.

“Chicken, steak, salmon, some fresh
vegetables if you don’t eat meat,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you cook too?”

“I’ve been known to throw some things
together in the kitchen on occasion.”

Laughing, Jessica said, “There’s something
new around every corner with you.”

“I like to keep people on their toes.”

“I can see that.”

They fell silent, their eyes locked
together, identical half-smiles forming on their lips.

A tiny shiver rolled down Kelton’s spine and
he quickly shifted his gaze back to the refrigerator. Although he
didn’t believe in any of that crap about a special connection with
someone you hardly knew, he had to admit that something had passed
between them in the previous half-second. Which was bad,
considering the situation. The last thing he needed was some sort
of an emotional attachment.

Kelton squashed the sentiment and locked it
away in the back of his mind with all his other feelings.

“So what’ll it be?” he said.

“I could go for some salmon, if you don’t
mind.”

“Not at all.” He pulled the salmon out of
the fridge, set it on the counter. “Poached or grilled?”

“Either one works for me.”

“Grilled it is, then.” He fired up the
indoor grill and opened the package, letting the fish breathe. He
then opened the cupboard and looked at his collection of spices.
“Blackened, or with lemon and garlic?”

“Oh, blackened, definitely.”

“Good choice,” he said, pulling the
container of Cajun spices from the cupboard. “Make yourself at
home. This will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“That was magnificent,” Jessica said after
finishing the last of her salmon. She set the fork on the plate and
leaned back in her chair. “You’re one hell of a cook.”

“Thank you,” Kelton said in a poor Elvis
imitation. “Thank you very much.”

“You could use some work on your
impersonations though.”

“Yeah, they’re not my strongest suit.”

“Yet you cling to them anyway,” Jessica
said.

“Some things you just can’t let go.”

Jessica was looking at him sideways, her
mouth turned up in a little smirk.

“What?”

“I was just thinking about how happy you
must make all the women,” she said. “With your looks, your brains
and your culinary skills, you must be beating them away from the
door.”

Kelton laughed, shook his head. “Yeah
right.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me the girls around
here aren’t lining up for a shot at you.”

“Not even close,” Kelton said. “Truth is,
you’re the first woman to step foot in this house since I’ve lived
here.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Jessica said,
laughing the comment off.

“I’m serious.”

“Holy crap, you really are. Wait a minute,
don’t tell me you’re gay?”

“Nope,” Kelton said. “Straight as an
arrow.”

“Then what’s your deal?”

“I’m just not good with women.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“A few times,” he said. “But not in a few
years. I figure why bother when I know how it’s going to end up
anyway. It’s just a waste of time.”

Jessica laughed under her breath. “You’re a
strange man, Kelton. You know that?”

“I’ve heard that a few times.”

“I mean, look at you. On the surface you’re
a normal guy, living in a normal house, doing normal things;
cooking, reading, watching television. But then there’s that other
side.”

“Which side is that?” Kelton said. “The one
that prefers his own company to the company of others?”

“I was thinking more like the one that
defied the federal government and pulled me from a heavily-guarded
safe house.”

“Ah yes,” Kelton said. “That one. I don’t
think of that part as odd.”

“You don’t? I would call that more than a
little odd. Especially when it’s combined with the rest of what
appears to be a basically normal existence. I wonder where that
part comes from?”

Kelton crossed his arms, looked down at the
table. “I don’t know, really. I’ve always been anti-establishment,
always thought for myself, always looked at things from a unique
angle, even when I was a kid.”

“So have lots of other people, but they
don’t become mercenaries when they grow up.”

“I told you before—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a mercenary.
But you know what I mean. Something had to lead you down the path
you’re on.”

“It always felt right, like an extension of
justice, a necessary part of our system. I just gravitated towards
it. I don’t know how to explain it any other way.”

“Come on, there’s got to more to it than
that.”

“Not really,” Kelton said. “It’s a pretty
boring story, actually. No exotic background, no big trauma that
led me to a life of vigilante justice, nothing out of the ordinary,
except maybe watching Paladin with my dad on a regular basis
growing up.”

“No military training, nothing like
that?”

“Nope. In fact, I graduated from college
with a business degree.”

Jessica barked out a laugh. “Are you
serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you didn’t do anything with it?”

He shook his head. “I never really had any
desire to enter the business world. It was sort of a default
degree. I really just went to college to play ball.”

“What kind of ball? Football?”

“Baseball.”

“Oh yeah? What position did you play?”

“Pitcher. I was the closer.”

“Were you any good?”

“I was the epitome of a good college player,
but nothing more than that.”

“What does that mean in English?”

“It means I put up good stats in college but
my stuff didn’t project to the pros, so I didn’t get drafted,”
Kelton said. “It’s all about potential when it comes to
professional ball, and I didn’t have any. Unfortunately, the only
thing I ever wanted to do was play baseball. It had been my life
since I was ten years old. And when that opportunity was taken from
me, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“So you just decided, out of the blue, to
become a vigilante?”

“Not quite,” Kelton said. “I spent a couple
of years working normal jobs, just like any other recent college
grad, but I was miserable. I felt like I was just wasting my life
away, doing meaningless crap. So I quit and started searching for
something more interesting to do.”

“What about becoming a cop, or going to work
for the government? FBI. CIA. Something like that?”

“I considered those things,” Kelton said.
“But I’ve always had a problem with authority, and I knew I
wouldn’t work in a regimented system like law enforcement. I’m just
not wired that way. But I’ve always had a heightened sense of right
and wrong, so I decided to find a way to pursue that on my own. I
eventually got hooked up with this guy who ran his own business. He
was looking to retire but wanted to find someone to keep the ball
rolling before he did. Anyway, we hit it off, and despite my
complete and utter lack of experience, he agreed to take me under
his wing. Over the course of the next two years, he trained me,
taught me the ropes, hooked me up with his connections, and
eventually retired. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Jessica considered this for a moment, then
said, “That’s a nice enough story, but I don’t believe it for a
second.”

“Nobody ever does.”

“It’s just so . . . I don’t know—”

“Boring? Typical? Unremarkable?” Kelton
said.

She nodded. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it
up.”

Kelton stood up, gathered the dishes, headed
towards the kitchen. “Let me ask you something,” he said as he
rinsed the remains off the plates and put them in the dishwasher.
“How did you get into biology? It’s a story similar to mine,
right?”

“Yes, but that’s different.”

“Why?” Kelton said. “Because biology is a
socially acceptable field of study?”

“Exactly.”

Kelton walked back into the living room and
sat down. “So if I told you that same story, but in the end I
became a cop instead of a vigilante, you’d believe it then?”

“Probably.”

“Because being a cop is socially
acceptable,” Kelton said. It was not a question.

Jessica grudgingly nodded.

Kelton leaned back in his seat, put his
hands behind his head. “Then just take society out of the equation.
That’s all I did. What society deems acceptable or unacceptable
simply doesn’t enter my thought process.”

“And why is that?” Jessica said. “Because
you consider yourself above society?”

“Not above it, more like parallel to it.
Inhabiting the same space but not a part of it.”

“Isn’t that a bit egotistical?”

“Maybe,” Kelton said. “But so what if it is?
There’s nothing wrong with thinking of yourself as more enlightened
than the rest of society. This country was built by people who felt
there were better ways of doing things than what they were
currently subjected to, and they took steps to change things.”

“So now you’re comparing yourself to The
Founding Fathers?”

Kelton closed his eyes and gently shook his
head. Once again, he was reminded why he preferred to keep the
specifics of his beliefs to himself. It simply wasn’t worth the
energy to try and explain them to others.

“I’m not comparing myself to anyone,” he
said. “I’m simply trying to explain my position, that’s all. But
obviously, it’s not working, so I’ll just shut my trap and we can
talk about something else.”

Jessica opened her mouth but Kelton held his
hand up, cutting her off before she started.

“No need to protest, Milady. Let’s just
relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. We’ve got less than an
hour before we’ll be meeting up with Walter, and then you’ll never
have to see me again. In the meantime, if you’d like some dessert,
I’ve got chocolate cake.”

“That sounds great,” Jessica said, her tone
muted.

Kelton stood up and headed for the kitchen.
He couldn’t say for sure, but from the look on Jessica’s face, it
appeared as though she had actually felt bad about the way the
conversation had ended.