I had no idea what he’d taken or drunk, but I could check with the bodyguards. My hunch was that he was sloshed but not drugged, because again, all he really wanted was a nap.
Standing, I charged back into the cabana.
“I hate to break this up,” I announced to everyone, “but the house is being raided for drugs. You all gotta go.”
There was a rush of movement then, and two guys grabbed the one behind Nick’s doppelganger, who would have fallen if one of them hadn’t stepped in and grabbed him. No one had realized that he had basically passed out standing up.
I directed myself to the bodyguard closest to me. “One of you guys needs to find who he belongs to and get him outta here.”
“Yessir.”
“The rest of you need to make sure the house is clear.”
“Yessir,” another of the bodyguards answered me.
“First, though, do we know what, if anything, Mr. Madison ingested?”
I got a laundry list of alcohol—bourbon, tequila, a few beers, champagne—so it made sense that he wanted to sleep.
Moving quickly to the open shelves where there were stacks of big, fluffy beach towels, I grabbed a couple and walked back to where Nick was, put my suit jacket back on, wrapped him up, put him over my shoulder in the caveman carry, and began the climb back up to the house.
The bodyguards were moving the stragglers along when Brent came jogging up to me.
“The cleaning crew will be here in another ten minutes.”
“Make sure they go down to the pool area and the cabana,” I told him. “Where’s his bedroom?”
“It’s down the hall off the kitchen, at the very end. It’s the one with the balcony.”
When I reached it, I found that the room behind the heavy double doors was not what I was expecting. The hardwood was covered in several large rugs in various shades of blue. There were huge frameless folding doors that led out onto a wide balcony, and three more large picture windows. I put him down on his side on the king-size bed and then went to make sure there was no one hiding in the bathroom. Through the open archway, I found a shower big enough for six people but no one in it, nor in the walk-in closet that contained a chaise. I scoffed…probably put there in case he had to rest while he was trying on his clothes or shoes. Not that you’d want to do anything in the room but go straight out onto the balcony and revel in the scene in front of you.
From there I could see the whole of his property, as well as a panoramic view of the valley. It was breathtaking.
“This is wasted on you,” I grumbled, turning from the vista back to the bedroom where the naked man was passed out. God only knew how long he’d be asleep.
Leaving him, closing the doors behind me, I went back to the front of the house, where the bodyguards and Brent were waiting for the cleaning crew. Having seen the grounds and how neglected they were, I had a question for Brent. “Do you have a gardener on staff?”
He looked confused, like the question made no sense. “There’s a service, and they come twice a week, but why do—”
“And who takes care of the pool?”
“It’s cleaned by a company, also twice a week because of all the parties, but I don’t understand what—”
“A good environment, either a clean one or a cozy one, factors into the rehabilitation process. When everything is kept a certain way, the expectation is that the person who is getting well will contribute to that.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really, Mr. Donavan,” I barked at him, annoyed at being questioned. “I’m not here to fuck around. I’m here to keep Mr. Madison clean, and for him to stay that way, the first step is for this place to feel like a goddamn sanctuary!”
“Oh…yes, yes of course,” he whispered, taking a step away from me.
Pivoting, I faced the bodyguards, who, though all bigger than me, took an instinctive step back as well. “Okay,” I said, looking at each one. “I only need three of you, so talk to me.”
It was nice that they decided themselves. One of them, Rick something, just wanted away from the circus that Nick Madison ran. His wife didn’t like him around the women and drugs, and since I arranged, on the phone with Rosalie, to give him a month’s severance and promised a good letter of recommendation, the culling was quick and easy.
Isaias Ortiz had been in the army, and came home and went into private security. He left his company to work for Nick but was on the verge of quitting because it was, he told me, completely out of control. Cliff Connelly was a security guard as well as Nick’s bodyguard, and Tony Long had planned to become an MMA fighter before his wife got pregnant with their first child. He was keener to be a good father and provide for his family than maybe get hurt badly enough that he could not. All three men were trained in hand-to-hand combat, all had CCW licenses, and they all had various auxiliary skill sets. Isaias had planned to become a NASCAR driver before giving it up and going into the army. Cliff was a fifth dan black belt in Taekwondo, and Tony had competed in the Olympics in fencing.