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Just like that.
“Hello, sir,” Roman said, somehow finding the ability to speak even though anger worked to weld his jaw shut. “Sorry for the mix-up.”
“It’s fine. The house needs a good cleaning.”
Roman could hear a commotion coming from behind him. A cacophony of voices, some slurring their words, like a party was being held and they had interrupted.
“Just don’t go upstairs or in any of the locked rooms. If you do, then there will be very big problems. Understood?”
“Yes, sir, understood.”
So try and get upstairs and into any locked rooms, got it.
“Good.” Leonidas stepped back and allowed them inside. He looked them up and down, black pupils small as pinholes raked over each them, analyzing. Roman tried his best to ignore the inspection. He looked around the foyer instead, a room that looked like it had been upturned by a frat party. There was a long white folding table set next to two leather couches littered with a collection of red Solo cups and empty beer cans. Two men were sleeping facedown on the couch, spooning each other with their feet dangling off the end.
“You all can start here.”
“Actually,” Roman said, already seeing that this room would be a wash. “We like to start from the back of the house and move our way forward. Also, the three of us each take a separate room. Helps us move faster.”
Leonidas cocked his head. He sported a recently shaved head, wearing a dark red T-shirt and khaki shorts, appearing as casual as a soccer dad waiting for his kid to come home from school. Except this soccer dad had a streak of sadism that poisoned his very soul. “Fine, go ahead. Remember: no locked rooms, no upstairs.”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
Roman gave a small nod and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He wanted to smack Leonidas over the head with the vacuum in his hand, but he knew the second that happened, they would be swarmed by every single Pride member inside the house.
No. He had to play it calm.
The three of them walked past Leonidas through a wide hallway made bright by a row of skylights. There were birds of paradise potted in black ceramic pots next to windows that looked out onto the infinity-edge pool, pushing up against the bay. There were two boats parked at the dock, with one of them being piled on by a group of seemingly drunken men and women. It seemed like yesterday’s party was still in full swing.
“I’ll take the far room,” Roman said to Mimic and Wyatt, who went in opposite directions. He wasn’t very fond of the idea of them splitting up, not after what happened at the museum. He would have been happier keeping Wyatt and Mimic at his sides at all times, making sure neither of them landed in trouble.
He had to trust that they’d be fine. He continued toward the arching doorway and entered an arcade with pinball machines lined up underneath a pink neon sign. Roman plugged in his vacuum and got to “work,” cleaning the floors while inspecting every nook and cranny he could find, looking under and behind the arcade games. He checked under the pool table and looked for something in the bookcase that held a large collection of board games.
Nothing. Leonidas wasn’t hiding the tome in his arcade.
“Kitchen’s clear,” Mimic said into the earpiece. “Moving to the next room.”
“Just cleared the arcade. I’m moving, too.”
Roman jumped over to the next room, a sunroom that had been used to play cards, with cut-up lines of coke, some of the lines still left on the table. Roman took the vacuum hose and sucked it up, figuring they wouldn’t miss it. He searched this room with the same intensity as the last, going as far as looking under the couch cushions for any little thing that could lead them in the right direction. Maybe a note had fallen from someone’s pocket or a receipt that could be tracked to a location. Anything. Anything at all.
“I’ve got nothing,” Wyatt said, disappointment in his tone.
“Same,” Roman said. “I’m moving to the next room.”
He went back out into the hall and walked past a staircase that curved upward, directly where Leonidas had told them not to go.
I’ve never been great at following directions.
Roman looked down the hall, making sure the coast was clear. With no one in sight, Roman decided to take a risk. He went up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He had to be quick.
“I’m upstairs. Looks like there’s a few bedrooms up here. Checking the first one,” Roman said in a hushed whisper.
“Upstairs?” Wyatt hissed back. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Roman entered the room, a barely furnished space that looked like it belonged in a hostel. There were two sets of bunk beds with a blow-up mattress in the center. Clothes were piled up in corners and spilling out of the closet, some of the piles smelling like they should have been washed weeks ago.
