“Really, what did you expect? Black suits, sunglasses, blacked-out SUV’s and intensely pushy people?” Nash asked as he followed her to the door.
“Yeah, someone who looked like an agent,” Jordan said with a bitter tone as she opened the door.
“I’m glad to disappoint you,” Nash replied as he let Jordan enter first.
The inside was as Nash had expected. Cream floral wallpaper, wooden floors with a long oriental rug ran from the door to the bottom of the stairs, sitting directly opposite the front door. The lobby was a twelve-foot square box. On the left was an open door; from what Nash could see, that was the breakfast room.
Against the right-hand wall was the reception desk. The counter made from the same polished wooden floor. Behind the desk sat a computer monitor, a black leather swive
