look around

I killed the lights and made the rest of the way on foot. The driveway was lit with lanterns hanging every 50 feet or so that had purple and red glass to filter the light. The house was relatively dark, but then again so where alot of things about this case. I made my way around the side of the house and heard movement on the balcony above. From the giggle, it sounded like the Greek girl from earlier. A drink was poured out with some mostly melted ice into the bushes beside me, and I heard her close the door as she went back inside. Good a place to start as any.

I climbed the wall with no problem using the pillars and the latticework for handholds. When I popped my head over the edge of the balcony, I could see that the bedroom I was looking into was currently empty. I hopped over the side and slid along the wall. Something was happening inside. She stepped out of the walk in closet wearing only thigh high boots, an onyx and gold segmented loose belt slung diagonally across her curvy hips, and her hair piled on top of her head. She knocked on the door and I heard a click as it was unlocked.

The goon with the half blind eye I'd seen at the hotel walked in and handed her a long, black robe. She let it drop to the floor as she swayed over to him. I could see his face twist with indecision. Her hands slid over his ribs and around his back, pulling him closer to her. She pulled his jacket off. He had a nice piece in a shoulder holster, looked like a Luger. She pulled that out too and walked away from him. When she turned and aimed it at him, my heart skipped a beat. He dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his head. I reached for my .45 and held my breath as she walked up to him and slapped him hard with her free hand.

Then, she lifted her leg and put it over his shoulder. I could see his tongue slide out and taste her glistening sex. A sneer split my face. The kinks people are into. She pushed him down and stood with her legs spread over him. He hastily got his cock out as she lowered herself onto his face. I decided this was a good time to move on. The next four rooms were dark, and presumably empty. The one in the center was, I assumed, the master bedroom. Light spilled out of the window in flickers. I peeked around and saw that it was empty as well. A man's suit big enough to use as a sail was hanging on the door, and a slinky black dress was draped on an overstuffed leather chair. Black and Purple sheets covered a bed the size of my office and it was obvious they'd been well used.

He walked in with only a towel wrapped around his waist. I wasn't expecting to see Grayden Dumas at my employer's home. He was a big sonuvabitch all right. Shrapnel scars crisscrossed his midsection that was littered with a few bullet scars as well. A nasty gash had left a pale pink lightning bolt going down his right thigh. His hair was wet and slicked back. The way he moved was odd for a military man. He moved fluidly, completely unrushed as if he had all the time in the world, which belonged to him anyway.

He walked over to a carved desk and flipped open an old, leathbound book. What I saw next was impossible.