Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [104]
Jago leaned his head back. Breathing in and exhaling slowly, he reached for a control that was rapidly slipping away from him. “Don’t start. Just don’t bloody start. I’ve heard the song and dance, chapter and verse, until I am ready to puke, Trev. This is not the way. It can’t be the way—”
His phone chirped at the same time his brother cut him off. “My other line is ringing, Jago. Let me take it. It’s Mershan International’s line, so it will be Julian. Hold—”
“That’s my phone saying the battery is low.” Jago jumped at the excuse to break off the conversation that threatened to ruin his whole night. “I need to recharge it. I’m out for the night, so call me tomorrow. Not early. Remember the time difference.”
“No! Wait—”
The line went dead. Whatever his brother wanted, it could wait.
Asha adjusted the long, black wig on her head and stepped back to study the effect in the mirror. Her sister B.A. was a beautiful blonde; her twin, Britt, was a stunning brunette. The remainder of the Montgomerie sisters took after their father and had various shades of auburn hair. To see the blue-black wig on her head, a shade similar to Jago’s hair, was startling to say the least.
“Wonder what Sexy Lips will think of me as Morticia Addams?” She had been speaking to the cat, but looked around and noticed the creature had vanished.
The bungalow was small—not many places he could disappear. Checking the kitchen proved the still nameless kitty wasn’t there feeding his face. Wondering where What’s His Name had vanished, Asha headed to the bathroom and flipped out the lights. The patio door was closed, so he hadn’t gotten out that way.
She shut the closet door, but felt a cool draft coming from across the room. As she stared in that direction, unease skittering over her skin, the louvered shutters moved apart, pushed inward by a breeze as though moved by ghostly hands. Going to them, she took hold of the knob and pulled them wide. The window was raised about six inches—enough for the cat to climb through.
“Even a fat cat,” she muttered in puzzlement.
There was no screen covering the window. They were on all the bungalows, so why was hers missing? Feeling a chill creeping up her spine, she recalled Jago’s cabin had been broken into. Though nothing had been taken, she didn’t like that someone had violated his privacy. Now her screen was gone and the window open. She hadn’t left it that way.
Maybe Jago had forgotten to close it and she hadn’t noticed before. That still didn’t explain the screen. Nothing had happened to any of the bungalows or the rooms since the incident of Jago’s broken lock; regardless, she didn’t like the feel of this.
Putting her hand on her hips, she glared at the window. She went to the kitchen and found a screwdriver and two screws. Coming back, she closed the window and locked it. Then, where the bottom pane met the top, she very carefully twisted the screws into the wood at an angle on each side, only partway, effectively stopping someone from raising it. Closing the louvers, she hooked them shut, too. She’d check on where the screen had vanished later. Right now, she had to hustle; she didn’t want to be late to her party.
The Shelby was back in its usual parking space, but as she stepped outside, Asha saw the lights in Jago’s cabin were off. Evidently he had already changed into his costume. She guessed the cat was with him.
Feeling as if she’d forgotten something, she decided to go around and check on Delbert, suggest he close down the lobby early and go to the party. The dear man’s spirits seemed a little down for the past couple of weeks. She was worried about him. Maybe a few laughs and a dance might cheer him up, she hoped.
She entered through the atrium, but he wasn’t about. She started to leave, but then her little voice nagged at her to check on him. Going down the hall off the side of the lobby, she followed it back to the rooms where Delbert lived. The door was ajar, but she hesitated before entering.
Peeking around her doorframe, she called, “Delbert?”
No response. Seeing light