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She doubted it very seriously.
Remaining quiet, she watched as his head disappeared and listened to the sounds of him getting comfortable.
Like hell he was going to sleep, but neither was he willing to face the full force of Khalid's wrath. At least he would have an excuse if Marty got caught. That was a comfort she would have to do without.
Hell, it wasn't like he was going to kill her, she thought, as the sound of the first false snore came from Abdul. She may wish she were dead. She may scream like she was dying, and that was a very real possibility, but he wouldn't actually hurt her. Well, at least not a pain that she wouldn't enjoy.
She opened the door quietly, the metallic click causing her to grin as Abdul gave a heavy sigh.
Okay, she could be quieter but she didn't bother, simply because she knew she didn't have to.
Within seconds she was sliding out of the car, keeping low.
She knew the movements of the security guards inside the grounds, and she knew that the area this close to the house was much less secure, other than additional security guards, compared to the one leading directly here.
Still, she closed the door quietly and kept low.
Watching the security personnel moving about the front of the house, she took extra time to study their patterns and the gaps in their rotations.
Long minutes later, certain she had a handle on the security weaknesses, she moved.
There was no low music, no activity that could be heard or seen from the house. The sprawling estate was like a sanctuary of some sort, carefully guarded and intensely secretive.
The parking lot was filled with limos and the drivers who accompanied many of the members. Lexuses, Mercedeses, Jaguars, and Bentleys were parked on the opposite side. It wasn't easy to stay in the shadows and out of sight of the drivers as well as the security guards.
It took more time than she liked to work her way through the parking lot, as she kept to the few shadowed areas available.
Moving slowly, carefully, she practically crawled through the evergreen and flowering shrubs that lined the parking area.
She'd already decided on the best entrance into the house months before. She'd watched every angle that she could see from a vantage point high above the main grounds.
Every angle but the parking lot and back entrance to the club could be viewed one way or the other. Security cameras and personnel kept a careful watch and secured the house grounds against all intruders.
Until recently, there hadn't really been a weak point in the house--until the owner, Ian Sinclair, had
built his main residence on the other side of the property. What had once been a wide window in the back of the house had been converted into a service door.
With just the right amount of luck and a little bit of skill, she had a chance of slipping in there when one of the employees stepped out for a cigarette. They didn't always close the door well, and beside the door was a dark, shadowed area of foliage that would be perfect to use as a cover.
She just had to get in place.
After slipping into the shrubbery at the door, it was just a matter of waiting. There were security cameras in this area just as there were in the others, but the landscaping here was more a hazard than a help to security. It surprised her that Sinclair hadn't cleared this out yet, though it did make an effective screen for those employees with the need to light up.
She had no idea what she was facing once she actually got inside. She knew the layout of the house from a few historical documents that she had managed to uncover. The Sinclair mansion was considered a historical landmark. It had been built well before the Civil War, and even before then had been known as a gathering place for certain like-minded individuals.
Men who shared their women. A place for such a man to find a third who shared his values as well as his beliefs.
It was a wonder it hadn't been burned to the ground centuries ago.
As a mocking smile tipped her lips, she suddenly tensed at the sound of the lock disengaging inside. It was simple enough to wait until the door opened and a dark figure passed. Using several leaves folded together, she quickly slid the foliage into place over the lock as the door closed.
As the employees passed by, Marty reopened the door and slipped inside. She flattened herself to the wall and ducked quickly behind a huge antique armoire that stood in the hall.
There were no security cameras in the hall, which surprised her. She wondered just how well the inside of the club was policed. She'd expected much more than she found at the moment.
Drawing in a slow, deep breath and checking the area quickly, she began advancing up the hall and found it to be an interloper's dream. There were wall insets in places, providing small, comfortable areas for work or conversation. Large antique pieces of furniture sat throughout interconnected rooms that were for the most part shadowed and private.
Getting to the stairs that led to the second story, and to many of the private meeting rooms as well as the bedrooms, wasn't nearly as hard as she had expected.
