The man was muscular and lean and had a bad look to his face. Like a colorful snake brightly warning off predators, the death's head tattoos staining his faceted biceps were no ruse. Hank raised both hands to ward the threat in those slim, lethal eyes. Hey, man, get a grip. We butt in, those suits will shoot us for sure.
Lees just do our job, take care of our own business.
They had been hired by Manny's older brother Algernon to guard the perimeter of the estate while the Hellas family entertained their guests on the beach-Japanese lanterns strung among the dunes blazed festively against a moonless sky, and scraps of dance music drifted over the churning surf. The party itself was blocked from view by the dunes, and Silent and Hank had not expected to see anyone in evening dress this far from the action. Better to pretend now that they had, after all, seen nothing. One of the crooked-faced men spotted them and walked over. Silent looked past him to where the girl sat in the sand, her legs tangled, her hair ruffled.