The din coming from the interior of the party house was deafening. I moved inside, stepping to the left in order to keep my right hand free, and also allow Gularte to be a second target instead of both of us potentially being taken as one. There were about a dozen women moving about in the mist and one who was dancing nearby yelled out…

“Hey, it’s the San Clemente cops,” after which she began to laugh even louder than the music.

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