Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [98]
Damn it! His suspicions all followed a chain of logic, yet as he studied the oddball it was hard to reconcile Colin the Stalker with Colin the ‘Basketball Superstar.’ The two profiles were in such conflict; he liked Colin and that alone made him want to trust him, despite circumstances piling up.
“Someone broke into my bungalow. Bunged up the lock. It will need another. Can you do that, or will we need to call for a locksmith—provided Leesburg has one.”
Asha came from the office, scowling. “Did I hear right? Your cabin was broken into?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “City boy shows up and we have a crime wave. Mwahaha. I leave the keys to my truck on the floorboard so I know where they are at all times. That’s how scared I am about someone around here stealing anything.”
Asha stalked out of the diner, obviously heading to the cabins. Jago looked at Colin and then Sam, peeking through the serving window, then followed her.
“Hey, wait for me! I’m the one with the screwdriver!” Colin called, rushing to catch up.
Asha stood frowning at Jago’s door, hands on her hips, the fat cat dancing around her ankles wanting attention. A hot autumn wind whipped through the trees, sending the dry leaves to the ground, forecasting bad weather. She pulled her long hair over one shoulder and held on to the ends to keep it from flying about her face. “You’re right. Someone forced the lock. When did this happen?”
Jago shrugged. “I locked it when I went off with Derek. It was this way when I came back. Of course, with that damn juke box screaming ‘bird is the word,’ someone could blow the place up and you might not hear.”
Colin scratched his head, looked at the other bungalows. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. Marlboros. Jago groaned. Colin took Jago’s scowl as censure. “Hey, Asha bitches at me already for smoking. Besides, you smoke those cheesy Swisher Sweets.”
“Yeah, I do,” he replied absently, wishing Colin smoked anything but Marlboros.
Taking the cigarette, the handyman stuck it into his mouth, but didn’t light it. “Hey, Jago, someone have it in for you?You a drug runner or a diamond smuggler? Why would someone hit your pad and not bother any of the other cabins? I get it—Jago equals James, doesn’t it? Jago Bond! They were after your super spy secrets.” He sniggered.
His using the word secrets caused Jago to want to hit something.
“What was stolen? I’ll replace it even if the insurance doesn’t cover it. We’ve never had anything stolen from the motel before.” Asha sighed, looking disappointed.
Jago’s stomach muscles tightened as if he’d taken a sucker punch. He turned to glance around—or more precisely, he pretended to look about for clues so he didn’t have to meet her beautiful eyes. “Nothing was taken.” Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a thunderclap nearly overhead. Scooping up the cat, he took Asha’s upper arm. “We’d better get inside. Storm’s going to break any minute.”
“Hey, guys, I’ll dash up to my house, see if I have anything to repair that lock,” Colin shouted over the rising wind, then started to jog up the hill.
Jago and Asha barely made it to the glassed-in porch before the rain hit, pounding on the concrete drive and walkway at the front of the restaurant, with a soothing sound. They left the kitty on the porch—much to his grumpy meowing—and went into the diner. Asha headed to the office to take a call from a supplier, leaving Jago at the counter to finish his slightly warm beer. Jago took a seat on the stool that Colin had fixed, and watched Sam carry in a stainless steel bucket filled with crushed ice, and empty it into the built-in bin under the counter.
“Where’s the usual lunch crowd?” he asked the cook.
“Won’t be one. Damn storm will keep everyone away. Watch. Oh, a couple might brave the rain.