Chapter 75
CHAPTER
THE RAINDROPS HIT LIKE PISTOL shots against the roof under which Nash was trying to sleep. It was three in the morning when a bolt of lightning smacked down and lit the world outside his window, as though dawn had galloped ahead by several hours.
He rose and stared out the window at the rivulets of rain S-curving down the glass.
In his mind’s eye he went back through every physical strike he had made against the men in saving Rhett and Elaine Fixx: ruined knee, crushed nose cartilage, destroyed hand, damaged esophagus, cracked sternum and jaw, snapped Achilles, and probably a blown-out psyche of the last guy.
He had observed, planned, adapted, and executed with near perfection.
But even though I had a good reason, I hurt those men more than I needed to, in order to get in good with Rhett.
My old self was not cut out for this. It is not who I am.
No, correction, it is not who I was. It is who I am now.
I have to accept that. I never thought I could change who I was.
But life gave me no choice. I have never felt so powerful… and powerless.
He leaned his head against the glass and felt the coolness of the storm that was exerting its full power just an inch on the other side.
I am changed on the surface. I am changed below the surface. I have no more surfaces that have not been altered. I am no longer Walter Nash 1.0. Like Shock said, I’m a completely different person, inside and out. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a bit of Walter Nash 1.0 left.
He took out the locket from under the carpet, opened it, and stared down at the picture of his daughter on the day of her birth. It was a risk to keep this memento, he knew. But one look at her face gave him the resolve to carry on. And he needed that, very much.
He dropped back into bed holding on to the locket, slept hard for three hours, got up, did a particularly rigorous workout, and later sprinted through the wet streets until he thought he would heave.
He showered and dressed, had breakfast at the same diner, and presented himself at Sybaritic Investments at 9:58 in the morning.
Ellen Douglas, the cookie-lady receptionist, greeted him, though she offered him no treats. He eyed her and she stared back at him, showing no inkling that she might be looking at the former number two in the entire corporation.
“Mr. Temple will be with you shortly, Mr. Hope.”
“Thanks.”
Two minutes later Rhett appeared dressed in a white silk shirt, tailored tobacco-colored slacks, and chic brown lace-up shoes, with no socks visible.
Nash had on a cheap off-the-rack two-piece suit, a skinny tie over a white shirt, and new black shoes, all of which he had purchased in the small town where Byron Jackson had dropped him off.
“Come on back, Dillon.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Temple,” replied Nash.
In Rhett’s office, Nash sat while Rhett paced on the other side of his desk. The sun had come out from behind the gloom of clouds and exquisitely lit the office. For Nash, all shadows with their gray tints were gone, leaving all important objects in sharp, true relief.
I hope.
Rhett faced Nash and put his knuckles on his desk. “You look like you could bench-press a truck.”
“The importance of brute strength is pretty much overrated. The most dangerous man I ever met was half my size with very little muscle.”
“So what made him dangerous?” asked a puzzled Rhett.
Clearly thinking of Shock’s story about Peanut, Nash replied, “He’d kill anyone without a second thought. Just made him faster and more efficient.”
“Is he still around?”
“No.”
Rhett started to say something, but then noted Nash’s grim expression.
“Okay. Um, I checked out your CV. Impressive, very impressive. Bottom line is, I want you to be my bodyguard. But we need to get some things straight.”
Nash said nothing; he just studied the other man.
Rhett sat down and drummed his fingers on his desk. “I lead a complicated life.”
“I’ve never guarded anyone whose life wasn’t.”
“I may take it to another level. First, you cannot go everywhere with me. And you can’t meet some people that I have to sometimes meet with.”
“Are these places dangerous to you?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I can’t protect you if I’m not there.”
“It’s just the way things are,” replied Rhett.
“FYI, whatever I see or hear, if it doesn’t pertain to your protection, I don’t remember it.”
Rhett took a few moments to absorb this. “I… will take that into account.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“What are your salary requirements?”
Nash told him, using the information that Shock had provided. “I like to remain an independent contractor. Easier for you and me. I handle my own taxes and everything else that way. You just pay the biweekly fee. Direct deposit is fine.”
Rhett nodded. “Seems more than fair. My father had his guys on as full-time employees, health care, 401(k), the works. And I think you could have taken out those lazy assholes single-handed. Okay, my assistant will get you all signed up.” He looked over Nash’s clothes.
“And I’m going to send you to my tailor.
You have to look the part if you’re going to be with me. All on my dime.”
“Yes sir.”
“Is that truck you were in last night the only vehicle you have?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll issue you a company car then. You like Porsches?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never driven one.”
Rhett grinned. “You’ll like it.” He paused. “The lady I was with last night?”
“Yes?”
“She’s not my wife. I’m not married.”
“But from what I heard last night, she is.”
“Yes. But between you and me, it’s not going to last. I’m not talking about her marriage. I’m talking about her and me.”
“Yes sir.”
“My father’s security team was quartered at his estate in the hills, where we were headed last night. They also traveled with him.”
“That’s normally how it’s done, sir. Security is no good if they’re not with you.”
“I’ll arrange a room for you at the estate. Sometimes I’m at my penthouse here in town. If I’m there, you’ll stay in a condo I own in the building, one floor below me.”
“Understood.”
“My stepmother, Mindy, lives at the estate as well, as does my older stepsister, Angie. She’s got mental and emotional issues, and mostly stays in her room.”
“Okay.”
“Mindy has an infant daughter. She was my father’s third wife,” he added.
“And your father? You said he died?”
“Yeah, he killed himself, long story,” Rhett said tersely. “We’ll get you all set up and everything with the paperwork and all. Take about a week. I’m not going anywhere, so don’t worry about my safety during that time.” Rhett put out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Dillon.”
It was all Nash could do not to crush the man’s soft, manicured hand in his hard-earned, callused one.
“Thank you, Mr. Temple. Really glad to be aboard, sir.”