Hook and Shoot by Jeremy Brown Page A

of this room.”
    â€œDon’t want to see the boss’s penis, huh?”
    I headed for the kitchen.
    Burch yapped from the security room, “What if it makes you feel better about yourself? Not taking a chance?”
    Burch led the way upstairs. The wide stone steps had a plush runner up the middle and made a quarter turn clockwise to the second-floor hallway. We turned right and stopped on a railed bridge that looked down on the foyer and the living room with the pool outside.
    Burch pointed at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. “Eddie’s suite. Door just before it on the right is mine, with access to the master suite through the closet.”
    â€œYou put that in?”
    â€œOriginal construction. I believe it’s called a mistress hatch.” He continued across the bridge into the enclosed hallway and opened a door on the right into a room bigger than my entire apartment. “This is you, for two reasons. If somebody comes down this hallway,I don’t want all three of us cornered at one end. Either way they go, one of us will be behind them. And if they head your way, I hope you can entertain them long enough for me to get Eddie out. That reminds me.” He hit some buttons on his phone.
    I heard a recorded voice, then a beep.
    â€œDorian, Burch. Those suits for Mr. Wallace need to be let out under each arm. Call me if you need to see him again.” He put the phone away.
    â€œI’m not carrying anything,” I said.
    â€œYou’ll come around.”
    â€œYou already have a dead guy to put on me whenever the mood strikes. I’m not giving you a weapons charge too.”
    â€œThen you can carry spare clips for me. Be my pack mule.”
    He dragged me through the rest of the house, pointing out escape routes and choke points and dead ends.
    I ignored him for the most part and stared at the weapons hanging on the walls—everything from crossed stone axes over the living room fireplace to a Russian sniper rifle that pointed at a guest bathroom. There were tapestries of knights laying siege to cities, statues of gladiators in victory and defeat, and paintings that ranged from David vs. Goliath to Ali vs. Foreman. One showed an entire Roman legion fighting a dinosaur. I squinted at it until Burch noticed I’dstopped walking.
    â€œDon’t ask,” he said.
    He pointed out more things, and I stuck to my plan of should anyone invade the home I would throw Eddie out a window into the pool, then improvise.
    â€œI saved the best for last,” Burch said.
    â€œJust say you’re done, I’ll agree.”
    He stopped with his hand on a doorknob. We were in the back left corner of the living room, the lights from the pool coming through the glass wall and making everything ripple. I recognized shapes out there—an outdoor kitchen and bar, furniture, a roiling Jacuzzi that made my throat want to clamp shut, but no invading Yakuza army.
    The living room was large and square with sunken couches in the middle around a block of obsidian that was either art or a table. The hardwood floor we stood on framed the room and made another ledge to sit on and stare at the art table.
    Or the giant flat screen mounted opposite the fireplace.
    Or the fireplace. Hell if I know.
    Burch’s door led to something between the garages and the backyard. He took his hand off the knob, like he wasn’t sure I deserved it. “You need to get it through your head that you and I are in a foxhole together. Whether we like each other or not, we needto coexist. All I ask is be professional. I’ll do the same.”
    â€œSo far your blackmail and coercion have been top-notch.”
    Burch bowed his head. “Thank you for noticing.” He opened the door and hit the lights.
    I tried to keep my jaw from dropping. It landed somewhere near that goddamn table.
    The gym looked like a showroom. The glass wall continued on the right and was made somewhat