Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [96]
“Again, I have to say, so? You drag me from my bed for a trespassing litterbug?” Then it had finally reached Liam’s foggy brain. He’d slid his hands in his coat pockets. “You’re thinking about the truck that harassed you on the bike ride on Sunday.”
“Yeah, and the truck at the drive-in earlier.”
“I told you Oo-it drives one. So do half the farmers in the area. And don’t get paranoid. Some people around here see a biker and think ‘goddamn Hell’s Angel.’ Some Bubba with a brain a couple cans short of a six-pack and another six in his belly, probably decided to give the biker a good scare. Thought it a high old time.”
“But Asha was on the Harley,” he argued.
Liam had rolled his eyes. “Hey, big bad biker’s molls don’t get respect from Billy Bob Joe.”
Jago chuckled, shaking his head. He didn’t think Asha would like being thought of as a moll.
Now, looking at the open door of his cabin, he couldn’t dispel the odd sensation that once more crawled over his skin. “I locked it this morning before I left with Derek. I’m careful about that,” he told What’s His Name. When the feline rubbed against his calf and glared at the bungalow, ears flattened against his head and his tail snapping, Jago exhaled in frustration. “Okay, maid service? Maybe she forgot to close the door after she left?”
Approaching slowly, he paused to examine the lock built into the frame. There were scratches around the core that someone fumbling with a key might make. But, as he ran his fingers along the mechanism where it seated itself into the wall, he spotted what looked more like gouges, as though someone had used a lever like a crowbar—or a big screwdriver—to snap the weak lock.
“Back to Oo-it—again. First, the black truck, now the screwdriver . . .” With a sigh, he glanced back to the restaurant, thinking about Colin running around all morning with the oversized tool. “He smokes, too, Puss. I wonder if they’re Marlboros?”
His mouth compressed into a frown, knowing Asha wouldn’t be happy he even held the suspicion, yet there was little way to avoid it. He stared at the curtain rippling in the wind, trying to decide a course of action.
He discounted this being the carelessness of the maid; she might scratch the lock putting in the key, but she wouldn’t take a lever to the thing. Colin was in the diner—working on the stool. Jago knew they advised people facing a possible breaking-and-entering situation not to go inside; call the police and let them handle it. “What police? We’re in the middle of bloody nowhere.” He fingered the bent lock.
Jago doubted there was a county force, so he’d likely have to call the state troopers. No telling where they were or how long it would take for them to arrive. He’d bet whoever had done this was long gone. To be on the safe side, he could go back and get Asha’s gun, but he didn’t want her in the middle of this until he learned what had happened. Walking over to the Shelby, he fished his keys from his pocket, opened the trunk and removed the tire iron from the jack.
“Not that I need it, Puss. Des saw both Trev and I were fully trained in Savate, since we had to be in some pretty dicey places around the world.” He chuckled. What’s His Name looked thoroughly unimpressed.
The curtain flapped softly, stirred by the breeze, as he took hold and slowly pushed it back. Just steps inside, he paused. Everything was silent, so still that he heard his heart thudding, strong and slow in his blood. His eyes flicked to his briefcase sitting on the table next to his laptop, then soundlessly he moved into the living room. He listened intently, not with his ears, but with that fey primitive sense a man tended to ignore at times. Jago found that when he failed to heed that inner voice, he later paid for it. That sixth sense detected a presence lingering in the air, though from someone long gone. A rapid inspection of the rooms confirmed that impression. No one was in the bungalow. Jago didn’t spot anything missing. Even so, there were clear signs to him that someone had entered and been through his things.
A sloppy maid who didn