Guards

The Raith Estates are about an hour north of town, out in the countryside, where the nearest neighbor is too far away to hear you scream. The place is surrounded by a forest of old enormous trees, mostly oak, that look like they were transplanted from Sherwood Forest.
Hell, given how much money and power the White Court had, maybe they had been.
I pulled up to the gates of the estate in the Munstermobile to find them guarded by half a dozen men in full tactical gear and body armor. They weren’t kidding around. As I stopped the car, five men pointed assault rifles at me, and one approached the car. His spine was rigid, his shoulders square, his manner relaxed. Lara recruited her personal security almost exclusively from former military, mostly Marines.
The man who approached my car had a solid blend of the lean athleticism of youth and the weather-beaten edges of experience. He wasn’t even bothering with a friendly smile. I’d run into him before. His name was Riley.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Those look like ARs,” I said. I squinted at the guns pointing at me. “But with real big barrels. Beowulfs?”
Riley shrugged. “Can I help you?”
“I’m to see Ms. Raith,” I said.
“The grounds are closed for the night.”
I looked at him and rested my arm on the window, leaning back comfortably in my seat. Lara didn’t hire chumps, so I was dealing with a professional. Most of the time, when something like this happened, I tended to react … adversely. But I was here to talk about a diplomatic solution. I was kind of new to this, but it seemed like me blowing things up and knocking Lara’s people ass over teakettle probably wouldn’t be an auspicious beginning.
And besides. I was willing to bet the other five or six guys I couldn’t see right now would have a rocket launcher or something, and I didn’t need to add getting blown up to my list of problems.
So I smiled at the guard and said, “Look. You and I crossed trails over the Luther case. Didn’t turn out so good for your boss, but you kept it from being a real wreck—and we were both good to our word.”
Riley eyed me and grunted acknowledgment.
“I’m here to help,” I said. “Call the house. You won’t regret it.”
He stared down at me for a second. Then he walked to the guardhouse and got on a phone while several extremely heavy-duty guns, known for their vehicle-stopping capability, pointed steadily at my noggin. His face turned a little paler than it had been, and he waved at the other guards, causing them to lower the weapons and get out of the way. He pointed at me and then at the gate, and the gate buzzed and began to swing open.


Peace Talks Chapter 14, Page 124-125