THE NEXT DAY, Sinclair is in an uproar. I was woken up at six o'clock in the morning, the sound of crashing a breaking stirring me out of a really pleasant dream. The dream itself had been really pervy and I'm kind of embarrassed that I'm apparently so sexually repressed that I've started having dreams about Sinclair screwing my brains out.
As I'm thinking about the dream with a stupid blush rising to my cheeks, another crash comes from the bar below the room Carla let me have until my door is fixed and it startles me. At first, I think maybe someone has broken into Carla's. That leads me to creep toward the window that is just big enough for someone to crawl through if things go sideways. Then, I hear a familiar voice shouting out curses in French as something else crashes. Someone is tr
