He flicked off the light switch, setting the alarm system. Overhead he could hear
Reno—music that could only be Japanese hip-hop, for God’s sake, and thumps and
bumps. Either he had half a dozen girls up there on the floor and he was doing them one by one, or he was doing some sort of exercise. Or dancing. The thought of Reno dancing was enough to send cold shivers down Peter’s spine. He preferred the notion of an orgy.
