Riding the Thunder (41 page)

“Oh? And where are you taking Winnie?” she asked, smiling.

He gave a short snort of laughter. “She hates Lexington, is a small town girl at heart. Leesburg still rolls up the sidewalks at 8 p.m. That leaves few options. I wanted to do something special. I slipped Ella twenty bucks, and she's fixing up the porch room at The Cliffside. Roses, candlelight and maybe a little slow-dancing to their jukebox—which doesn't play ‘Surfin' Bird.' I hope she likes it.”

“She will. Run on and have a great night. I'm going to eat a piece of cheesecake and close up early. These winds depress me. No one ever comes when the weather is bad. No use staying open.”

“Sam's off night. He's over at Melvin's playing poker. He won't be back 'til late. You'll be okay here?” Colin seemed on edge from the wind, too.

She rolled her eyes. “I've run this place since I came back; no one's cared before. Now Jago's not here, suddenly everyone's concerned I'm by myself? My purse is under the counter—with my gun. Run along and have a lovely time with Winnie. With this weather, you'll have The Cliffside to yourselves.”

Colin nodded and slid on his navy windbreaker. Fixing his collar, he hesitated, eyes troubled.

Asha paused, her back to the swinging door to the kitchen. “I meant to tell you how handsome you are with your new duds and haircut.”

Grinning, he bounced on his feet. “Yeah—I'm pretty cute, eh? 'Night, Asha.”

“'Night, Colin.”

In the kitchen, she picked up a saucer for herself, then on impulse lifted another. Delbert might like a treat, too. And maybe now was a good time to look at his photo album. Going into the food locker, she used a pie cutter to divide the cheesecake, carefully lifting out each slice to leave the remaining pie in perfect condition—Sam got cranky when she just cut slices off with a knife. It was comical, the way he fussed at her. She might be the owner of The Windmill, but
he
was boss in the kitchen.

She carried the plates out and placed them on a tray. Going behind the counter, she filled a glass with pink lemonade for her, and snagged a milk carton out of the cooler for Delbert. Once again, her eyes went to the phone, half expecting Jago to call. With a sigh, she closed and locked the front door, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and then turned out the overhead lights.

The jukebox sedately played a Gene Pitney tune, as she picked up the tray. “You better be glad I love you, you metal escapee from
The Twilight Zone.
Someone else would have pulled your innards out long ago.” Balancing the food tray with one hand, she reached out and gave it a pat. “Night-night. No ‘Bird is the Word' or ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight,' eh? Delbert and Sam need rest.”

Two steps and she booted something hard, nearly tripping. “Bloody hell, I almost kicked the bucket,” she joked. She'd stubbed her toe on the metal pail Colin had used to clean putty from the tiles he was putting in. Using the side of her foot, she nudged it over to the corner out of the way.

At the porch, she allowed Clint out of his ‘prison.' The puss padded inside, dancing, sure he was about to be fed again. His company was comforting; Asha enjoyed him being underfoot, and was sorry she had to keep him out of the restaurant. He'd been on the glider swing, staring off into the night as though he expected Jago to show up.

“Sorry, puss. I sent Mr. Mershan on a wild goose chase. My guess, he's still in England, trying to get connections
back. Maybe in a day or two.” Asha locked the outer entrance, pausing to stare out into the night, too. “Sheesh, I'm as bad as you, Clint. He's not coming. We'd best forget it. Come on, let's spend the evening with Delbert.”

Another gust of wind slammed the front of the old overseer's house, shaking the whole structure. She was less worried about the restaurant. Five years ago, because of insurance regulations, the windows had been refitted with shatterproof safety glass, and the wood door reinforced with steel. You could take a sledgehammer to them—they'd crack, but likely wouldn't shatter. However, the main house caused her concern. Built in the early 1800s, the antebellum home was, for the most part, constructed solidly; ceiling joists were not of pine but heavy poplar. It creaked and groaned in protest, making Asha suck in a breath, alarmed, as the air seemed to push under the eaves and nearly lift the old roof off.

Dismissing her worries, she entered the lobby. “Delbert, Clint and I brought you pie,” she called.

The television played in the inner office, but the room was empty. Delbert would surely return in a minute. She set the tray on the desk, then took pity on Clint and poured milk into a saucer for him. Purring, the kitty's pink tongue rapidly lapped up the liquid.

Asha's attention was drawn to the television as they flashed a weather bulletin telling of the high winds. “As Colin would say, ‘No shit, Sherlock.'” She flinched as another blast of cold wind battered the front of the old house. “Clint, I don't care if his name
is
Mershan, I wouldn't mind if he were here. He could lie to me all he wants, tell me how this house has stood this long and will stand another hundred years.”

Becoming concerned when Delbert didn't return, she decided to go check on him. At the turn in the long hallway, she noticed a dim light coming from his rooms. For some reason, prickles crept up her spine; her fey sense warned that something wasn't right. Pushing open the
door, Asha saw Delbert on the floor, his album and his precious pictures spilt about him.

Her heart jumped as she rushed to him. “Oh, Delbert, no!” First thought was he'd had a stroke or a heart attack. She checked his pulse; he was breathing slowly, but his heartbeat remained steady.

First aid always said to keep a patient warm. She dashed to the bedroom and grabbed a blanket and pillow; returning, she snugged the cover around him. As she lifted his head to place it on the pillow, her fingers touched something wet and sticky.

Yanking her hand back, she stared at her fingers. Blood? Poor dear must've cracked his head when he'd fallen. Damn.

Sam was out playing poker, and Colin was with Winnie. No guests were currently staying with them. She'd need to call the state police; maybe they'd evac him with the helicopter from the University of Kentucky Medical Center. Then she'd ring Liam. She kissed Delbert's cheek and rushed to the lobby.

Scurrying around the counter, she opened the phonebook to find the number to dial. 911 didn't work outside of cities. Upset, shaking, she nearly dropped the receiver of the 1950s-style phone they still used. Then it hit her—no dialing tone. Flicking the flasher a couple times, she hoped to hear the reassuring hum. Nothing. The line was dead.

The lights flickered ominously with yet another strong gust of wind. “Oh, please, don't you go out—ohhhhhhhh.”

She shook, trying to decide what was best to do. The drive-in was closed for the season; no one would be up there. She could drive up the hill—too long a distance to run—to the employee's homes, but they likely didn't have phones either since they came off the same major poles.

Then she remembered Jago's cell phone in her purse. Hopefully it was still charged. As she replaced the receiver, noise from the atrium caused her to look up. For an instant, she hoped Sam was returning early.

Montague Faulkner pushed through the glass doors between
the restaurant and the house. A tremble went through her as she considered how he'd gotten in there. She had been the last person out of the restaurant. True, she hadn't locked the atrium. That meant he'd come in the motel entrance while she was in Delbert's room, and gone through to the diner. But why?

His bright blond curls were wild, obviously whipped by the wind before coming inside. He gave her a small half-smile, which never reached his eyes. “Ah, so you
are
here. I went to the restaurant but didn't see anyone there.”

Her blood buzzing with rising dread, Asha summoned a false calm; she had to clamp down on the instinct to run. “Slow night. The weather always keeps down the number of customers.” No fool, she wasn't about to say it kept them away entirely. Delbert needed help—fast. Despite that, Montague's appearing from the restaurant told her not to let this man know how vulnerable her situation was.“I'm taking advantage to catch up on a few things around this place. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Been meaning to talk to you for some time. You're always busy.”

Not for one minute did she accept his surface behavior. The more normal he tried to make the situation, the louder her warning bells chimed.

“Any tree limbs down? I fear losing electric in winds like this. Such a pain when that happens. Damn lobby fills up with the customers bitching and moaning—like I can do something about it by twitching my nose.” She stressed that someone might come at any moment, not wanting him to see she was alone, vulnerable. Her inner voice warned her not to ask Monty for help. Feeling panic, she didn't take time to reason out why, simply trusted her instincts. To cover her deep unease, she kept prattling, as if she found nothing disquieting about his presence.

“Some of these trees are hundreds-years old. Notice how there aren't many elm trees any more? Dutch Elm disease, they say.”

As she blethered on, she made a show of straightening stuff on the motel front desk, mindlessly chattering as if it were natural for them to stand around gossiping about trees. Yet, at the back of her mind, she kept recalling all the hearsay, how they whispered this man had raped a child when he was in his teens. Also, something she couldn't define—a sense of Laura being with her—cautioned Monty was dangerous and here for a purpose. She wanted to maneuver him to where she could make a clear dash to the restaurant, and to her gun in her pocketbook.

“The poplars have been hit by a nasty bore beetle that gets between the bark and slowly kills the tree. A shame, since they have those beautiful yellow tulip blooms come spring. Guess that's why they call them
tulip
poplars, eh? They're huge, and with the poor things in bad shape, we keep losing power when limbs snap off.”

Her prattle seemed to confuse him, but with the fine edge of panic rising within her, it was hard to keep up. Too many things were just now becoming clear. Delbert hadn't cracked his head in a fall: Monty had hit him. A falling limb hadn't knocked out phone service. Monty also had been the one to leave the letter on the refrigerator. He'd wanted her to get mad at Jago and send him away. Carefully, he'd chosen a time when Colin, Sam and Liam were not about. Only poor Delbert.

And her
.

Quickly running through her options, Asha considered making a break to the office and locking herself in with Clint. Only, there was nothing to defend herself with, and the door was flimsy at best. She'd trap herself in the small, windowless room with no recourse.

Picking up the feather duster Delbert had left on the chair, she pretended to clean as she babbled on. Reaching the office door, she fluttered it over the top of the frame, muttering about grime, then quickly pulled the door shut to keep Clint in there out of the way; she needed to concentrate
on getting herself out of this situation, and wasn't about to hand this creep a weapon to use against her.

Monty took a step toward her as she touched the doorknob, but eased his stance when he saw she merely pulled it closed. Those gold eyes watched her without blinking, once again causing a flashback to that damn crocodile in the Cincinnati Zoo. Only there was no glass wall between them here. Deep in the pit of her stomach, she comprehended she faced a man capable of killing—this she felt from Laura—with only her cleverness to save her. Right now, she could barely think.

Funny, she'd berated Jago for lying to her. Now, lies were all she had to save herself from evil.

“Excuse me, while I keep working. There's so much to do around this damn place. So little help. I'll be glad when Tri-dent Ventures buys me out. I'm hoping to get big bucks from that. Then, I can get rid of this crazy place, go some place where it's warm and sunny.”

His brow crinkled at her statement. “I thought you were hanging on to the businesses? Everyone said you refused that big company wanting the land.”

She forced a chuckle, prayed her lies sounded believable.“Well, I
had
to convince Trident of that to get the price up! They've already tripled their offer. Now that they've purchased the horse farm, I'm expecting they'll offer four times the price. Bingo. Six months from now all this will be bulldozed down. Wanna bet they put a Wal-mart on the site?”

“Gone? But I thought you came back to run it, and were fighting to keep it.” Monty put his hands on his hips and kept staring at her. The man didn't look convinced.

Asha tried to keep her breathing steady despite her thundering heart. She was a lousy liar. The whole family knew that. Only her life and maybe Delbert's depended upon her guile. Everything depended upon it.
Where's my knight in armor when I need him, riding to the rescue on his mighty steed
, she thought.

Oh, Jago, I love you
. Nothing else mattered.

“Well, I hope my performance fooled Trident. Maybe you'll come around and a have drink at the Valentine's Party to celebrate with me.” She casually dusted her way to the lobby door, only to have him step forward to block her. He was tall, close to 6-5”. Scary. Nonchalantly, she swished the feathers all around the frame.

Using the dust as an excuse, she summoned a sneezing fit—a ruse. “Excuse me.”
Achoo-achoo
. “Sorry, I'm allergic to—”
Achoo achoo
“—dust mites. Let me get a Kleenex.”

With each sneeze, she rocked back farther into the office where he lacked a clear view. Taking a deep breath, she didn't hesitate. One foot landed in the middle of the chair on rollers, then she vaulted from it onto the desktop, sending the chair to slam into him as he leapt for her. With a hop, Asha planted her hip on the counter, swiveled and swung her legs over to the other side. All perfectly executed—except for the landing: she didn't ‘stick it,' but came down hard on her right leg. Grimacing from the pain and the cracking sound, Asha feared she might've broken a bone in her foot or ankle, but spared no time for concern.