Liam
While I don’t hate flying, given the opportunity I’d always take my bike. The freedom is unparalleled. The delays are of my own choosing, and the pilot is trustworthy.
But Briggs Barnett needs me and was okay when I pushed him off, but with a weekend off from protection duty, I’m free to do what needs to be done. And the opportunity, in this case, requires more days in Wyoming than I have to spare with a full-day ride there and another in return. Besides, Wyoming wind sucks hairy bison balls.
So back to DIA, I went, taking my flight credit from Peoria and exchanging it for one to Jackson Hole.
Jackson is a cool little town, though I much prefer Teton National Park when I’m here. Of course, the last-minute trip means it’s not available. Nor am I really… I’m here to work and then get home.
There’s a driver holding an iPad withMr. Murphyon it as Ileave the secure area. I lift a finger to indicate he can stop looking and follow him wordlessly to the town car.
My phone has had no notifications which is odd enough that I reboot it. Still no response from Lorien.
Wifey: You’d be miserable here. I’d be happy if you were here to provide commentary on the goings-on.
Me: Happy to provide orgasms along with commentary, Dr. Anderson.
Me: Speaking of, can you still feel me in that tight wet pussy?
Me: Are you blushing reading this? Is the heat prickling up those perfect tits that I need to taste again?
There’s no response and that was from before I boarded my flight. Curious.
I lift the phone to my face and dial but get voicemail.
Clearing my throat, I wonder how nosy her family is. “Lorien, this Liam from next door. Can you reach out after work this evening please? Something’s come up that requires your attention.”
The valley is beautiful as we drive and sooner than I’m ready, I’m inside a home and not outside enjoying the fresh air.
“Liam, thanks for coming.” Briggs extends a hand as I enter his new place.
I shake and look around the large room, at the expansive views, and the mid-century modern reno. I let out a whistle. “Another stunner.”
“Another place that needs your expertise.” He spins in a slow circle.
“What are you thinking?”
“Top of the line, soup-to-nuts security. No one gets in and no one gets out without my okay.”
That’s typical. “Can you give me a tour?”
“Sure.” He gestures to a man whose neck is so thick itdisappears into his shoulders. The dude’s traps need more stretch and a little less compression. He says nothing, but nods and follows us. It feels less secure and more ominous than I’m accustomed to.
Nevertheless, I need to see the layout of this new McMansion, lay eyes on every window, door, and egress, and know its vulnerabilities. This is common in my line of work. Sure, I can work from the plans, but nearly all plans miss something. And that something can be life and death for my clients.
“Let’s start on the roof,” Briggs offers, and leads the way to the outdoor stairs.
Roofis a bit of a misnomer. Outdoor patio is more accurate. Aside from the slope on the northern side to allow for snow melt, the rest of what would be a roof is an outdoor deck. An unencumbered one-hundred-eighty-degree view from west to east, including the valley. Even the safety railing is open-air and unobtrusive.
“Damn, Briggs. You outdid yourself.”
“It’s a bit much, but the view…” he gestures. Not that it was necessary.
“And the windows?” I toss a thumb over my shoulder. “What are those to?”
He turns and we head inside. “This was a study, but I’m thinking of making it my office.”
“I’d spend my time staring at the view and not at spreadsheets or emails.”
