I hate to admit it, but he’s right.
“Thank you,” I say bashfully.
“It’s the least I can do for my…” he trails off. He knows that the word he’s about to say makes me incredibly uncomfortable. “.. for you. Let’s get going, Altheus is waiting.”
“Altheus?” I ask.
“My right hand man, you could say. My bodyguard.” Eric answers.
Of course he has a personal bodyguard.
We walk through the village in silence along the moist gravel road, the crunching of the rocks beneath our feet is the only sound echoing through the sleepy little place. It’s Sunday morning, so I assume most of the village is either asleep or in church.
Just at the end of town I see a long, black car with tinted windows waiting for us. A very cliché looking bald man with sunglasses and a necktie is standing by the passenge
