The power drill was my alarm clock.
I woke up to a high-pitched whine vibrating through the door frame. I didn't check the time; I knew it was early because the light hitting the Pacific outside my window was still a sickly, bruised purple. I threw on a robe and pulled the door open, nearly hitting a man in a gray work shirt.
Harris, Marcus’s head of security, was standing in the hall with a tablet. Two workers were crouched at my feet, screwing a heavy-duty electronic keypad into the mahogany frame. Above them, a black dome camera was already mounted, its red "power" light staring at me like an unblinking eye.
"What is this?" I asked. My voice was thick with sleep, but the adrenaline was already clearing it.
"Security upgrade," Harris said. He didn't look up from his tablet. "Per Mr.
