Mark laughed and passed a minivan that was traveling fifty miles an hour on the highway. "Yeah, I guess so. Although most of it is locked up in investment vehicles that I specifically set up for long term usage, so the real value is higher. I mean, liquidating my gold assets and my mortgage securities would totally hose me on fees, and with the way the market is now I'd get soaked on my Asian investments too."
"Is that what you did with your spare time?" I asked, taking another few Fritos and chewing on them. The greasy corn flavor was a reminder of my childhood, as my grandfather loved the things, especially covered in chili con carne with cheese. "Become a business mogul?"
"I've tried to learn a lot of things," Mark replied without arrogance. "When you said that you thought I had an MBA, it really touched me. Most of the people I worked with, they wouldn't have noticed. They talk about my shooting skills, or my fighting skills, and lots of comments that I would never repeat to you that makes your average frat house sound like a highly cultured debate society. I hope I treat you better than how they treated the women in their lives."
I thought about it for a moment, then crunched on a few more Fritos. "You already are," I said, reaching over and squeezing his thigh. "Too many men would have continued to lie and try and bullshit me. You told me the truth. One question though. If Lefort hadn't shown up at your door this morning, would you have told me eventually?"
"Eventually," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "Actually, I don't know. I do know I was looking at getting out of the business anyway. I've made enough money, and I never did like it. It was just something I'm good at, I guess."
"Do you feel the need to kill?" I asked, looking over at him.
Mark smiled and shook his head. "No. While all of the men I've killed have been scum, I've lost sleep over them every time. I did it because I had to, at first to get out of the situation my father put us in, then later to get out of the situation I was in. You coming along was just the final little push I needed."
I wasn't sure if Mark was telling the total truth, and I looked in his direction. "Since we've met, tell me every job you've done over the past month."
Mark nodded and his face grew grim as his mind went back. "The night we met, I killed a Russian loan shark, Karl Vaslov. He went into business for himself, and the Confederation found out about it. He started trying to use his financial backing to expand into other fields, specifically the vice and drug trades. The next job I did for pay was an assault on a mixed martial arts fighter, spraining his left knee so that his opponent would have an advantage for their upcoming fight. I did two industrial espionage jobs, simple breaking and entering and getting files out of computers. The only unpaid criminal act I did was against Glen Green. I visited his house the night after we met. Other than a black eye, I didn't hurt him, but I did threaten him."
I nodded, not too surprised. "I'd wondered what happened to Green. He wouldn't tell anyone."
"Well, that's another way I got myself in trouble," Mark replied. "What I didn't know is that Glen Green was a frat brother with Owen Lynch. It was just one of the reasons that Owen wanted to use you to get to me."
Mark pulled off the Interstate, working his way along the minor roads. We drove for about another ten minutes before he pulled into a small motel, far away from the highway. "It's no luxury hotel, but it's safe, and they take cash," Mark explained as he shut off the engine. "It's one of four reservations I made this afternoon under false names from a burner phone. By the way, do you still have your cell phone?"
"Yeah," I said, pulling it out. "Do I need to get rid of it?"
"No, but shut it off and take out the battery for now," Mark explained. "Are there any very important numbers you have on there?"
"Just Tabby and a few other friends." A thought came to my mind, and I reached over to take his hand, which was still on the gear shift. "Mark, am I going to have to leave my entire life behind?"
Mark looked out the windshield, his face stony. "I don't know, Sophie. I hope not, but I honestly don't know. Let's go inside."
I grabbed our bags while Mark talked to the man at the front desk, coming back with a key. "Room seven," he said, "around back like I asked. It's not visible from the road at all."
The room was clean but obviously dated. The television looked like it was older than I was, and the wood paneling screamed nineteen seventies. Still, the bed was king sized and looked clean, the sheets were white and crisp. Mark brought in a gym bag with him, which he sat down on the small table next to the window. Pulling the single chair around, he sat down, his eyes looking out. "You need some sleep," he said quietly, keeping his vigil. "I'll make sure you're safe."