Soldier of Fortune: Gideon Quinn Adventures Book One

Chapter 27

He did his best not to bleed on the carpet, but by the time he'd been prodded through the foyer, up the stairs, and down the long hall of the top flight of the town mansion, Gideon was fairly certain some house drone was going to be scrubbing a few spots off the stairs, come the sunsrise.

At the end of the second floor's long hall, he was pulled to a stop by Ronan in front of the last door on the right.

Rey kept her weapon live and trained on Gideon, while Celia opened the door and entered the room, where she crushed out her cigarette in a standing tray that looked like it had been carved from a mammoth tusk. She then stepped out of her shoes before proceeding to move about the room, lighting a series of table lamps as she went.

As pockets of illumination grew to fill the space, Gideon saw he'd been brought to a bedroom. But as Ronan pushed him inside, he realized this chamber was far more sophisticated than anything so simple as a bedroom.

This place was a boudoir, something Gideon had believed only existed in the penny dreadfuls.

From the flocked wall coverings, to the heavy velvet curtains, to the carved wardrobe, to the mantle crowded with antiquities (up to and including what looked to be a genuine Earth-made Dr Pepper bottle), and crammed with bits of furniture so fanciful he couldn't imagine them capable of supporting a man's weight, the room was an ode to excess.

Much like Celia herself.

Even the bed was a showcase. A sea of red silk nesting inside the frame of what Gideon was sure was Adidan ebony.

Not very patriotic, he thought, studying the intricately carved headboard.

On the far side of the room, Celia had lit a final lamp, this one on a small writing desk, and was now drawing the thick (red) curtains over a tall window.

Keepers forbid any of the neighbors wake and spy a strange man bleeding all over the brocade.

To his left, he saw Ronan crouch before the fireplace, where he set his lighter to the pile of tinder already laid beneath the kindling. Once it caught, he moved to a finely carved breakfront, where he withdrew a blown glass decanter and goblet, both of which he carried in his good hand to one of the fanciful tables where Celia was waiting. At her nod, Ronan unstopped the decanter and commenced to pour.

The liqueur, Gideon noted with a sort of weary amusement, was of a red deeper than that of the bed's silk, but lighter than that of the velvet curtains.

He looked at Celia, who lifted the glass, sampled it, and smiled her approval.

"One hates to ask," he said, then asked, "but why am I here?" And where's your husband?

"That is a question," she said, setting the glass down.

For no reason he could fathom, her use of that particular phrase started an itch in Gideon's brain.

Before he could scratch it, Rey gave him a nudge towards one of the fanciful chairs, a burgundy cushioned number with an ornately carved slat back. Ronan joined them and shoved Gideon into the chair, making sure his hands looped over the back.

Not optimal, he told himself, but if Rey turns the gun away for even a second—

It won't matter, his self cut in, because Ronan had just produced a short length of rope from a trunk at the foot of the bed, then he took over the gun while his sister used the rope to fix Gideon's bound hands to the back of the chair, proving they weren't as careless as Gideon was hoping.

He waited for Rey to move off and counted to ten before beginning to test the bindings. What he found was both the rope and the chair slats were sturdier than they looked.