Declan isn’t there. He’s not in the living room or media room, either. It takes me twenty minutes to go through the entire house, until finally I determine that I’m alone.
Except for the shadowy figures moving around the perimeter of the yard, that is.
The ones carrying the big rifles.
I slide open a glass door in the enclosed breakfast room off the kitchen. Salt air swirls in. The cold sea breeze stirs my hair. I stick my head out and call, “Hey! Hello? Over here!”
I wave an arm at the dark figure prowling along a tall hedge of privet. He pauses for a moment, looking in my direction, then lifts a hand to his ear.
“For f**k’s sake, you don’t have to get permission, Spider,” I mutter, watching him speak into his wrist.
But I guess he did, because he starts to swagger my way.
When he
