I walked out of the house through the door, pulling it closed behind me. I strolled toward the woods where Nial was feigning disinterest. I tried not to grin at the asshole as he turned the page of his retrieved book.
“Tasty snack?” he probed.
“Oh quite,” I answered. “I’d offer, but I need her alive. For now.”
I waved and walked back into the trees the way we had come.
He dropped out of the tree and followed me. “Where to?”
“Need to find a man named Samson. He knows things.”
“Because that narrows it down.”
I tapped my temple. “I have his address.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
~ GWYNNORE ~
Samson’s house was nothing like the gorgeous, well-kept grounds of Ginter’s.
Stuffed between two older homes, there was quite literally six inches of space between his walls and the property lines. The monstrous faux-Italianate disaster glowed an incandescent yellow, with too many lights and too much gold for the accents. The small piece of property had no way for anyone to squeeze back behind it with the fences on either side. A fence I was surehis neighbors had erected to stop the spill of gaucheinto their yards.
“Ugh,” Nial grumbled, launching himself up onto the first branch of a tree on the neighbor’s property. He sat and pulled out his book. “If a neighbor did this to my property, I’d gut him and drain him, and destroy the house just after.”
“Hideous,” I agreed. “And it looks overpopulated this evening.”
“Good luck.”
I gave him the middle finger as I moved closer to the back door.
Standing in the shadows, I stood on the massive deck peering in. Men sat around a table, smoking cigars and laughing and gambling. My lips curled back from my teeth. I despised the tobacco habits of modern men. These in particular probably sported small cocks that they were trying to compensate for. I was positive if I went around front, there would be very flashy, very overdone cars.
I spotted the one named Samson. Overly plump and, unfortunately, not much to look at. No wedding ring that I could see, but that didn’t mean much with a man like that. Anyone can take a ring off, to go to a strip joint and to take advantage of the complimentary strippers or prostitutes. He seemed to be the type to accept that as well.
I listened to the conversation at the table, but it was all typical misogynist shit that some men bantered back and forth. Bored stiff with their topics, I wandered back to where Nial was perched in the tree.
I mumbled, “Too much testosterone and light in there. I’ll have to wait.”
Ahmphescaped past his lush lips, and he turned the page of the book again.
I couldn’t stand the smug bastard.
Leaning against the tree, I concentrated on the connection with Haley back at Ginter’s.
She was just starting to come around, and her senses were clearing rapidly.
Someone was in the house with her. A non-threatening person, familiar, and she was delighted. A moment later, I recognized Timothy Ginter had come home.
I left them alone. I didn’t need to know about dinner and jobs.
Too bourgeoisie for me.
Great. Stuck between a hausfrau and a fatass.
I sat. What could I do? I had to wait out these asses so I could get in there and talk to Samson. I contemplated walking back to the car and taking a quick nap—that’s how boring this was, but I also didn’t want to waste time like that.
Damn, damn. I hadn’t brought the file. Or anything to occupy my time.
