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“Base to Red One, roger on your situation,” Claire said. “Do you want me to send some dinner—”
“No, I think we’re covered for food. Over and out.” He lowered the tablet, looking at her with a serious expression. “For your sake, there better be more than canned beans.”
She barked out a laugh. “Jesus, did Mr. Meyer Communications just make a fart joke?”
“Not if Ms. Cavendish Club intends on sharing a bed,” he replied, deadpan.
Her laughter slowed, and she looked at him in a new light. He was funny, this man she almost wasn’t married to anymore. Another wave of sadness hit her.
“I’ll take my chances,” she said. “Let’s go down and check out the kitchen.”
His expression turned serious, and he held out a hand, touching her shoulder to get her to stop.
“One second,” he said, lifting a hand to her hair.
CHAPTER17
Montgomery looked away from the spark that flared in Hartley’s eyes. He was doing too well compartmentalizing his feelings. He yanked.
“Ow! What the hell, Monty?” she yelped, leaning away as he tugged the single strand of hair from her scalp.
“Oh, don’t be a baby,” he scolded.
“What are you doing?” She squinted at the hair he held up.
“I’m going to rig the door. Shine your light there,” he instructed, nodding to the door’s base.
She complied, and Montgomery guided the long, dark hair across the threshold about three inches from the floor.
“What…?” she asked, her frown turning curious.
He draped the strand against the doorframe and closed the door on it. He tugged the hair to make sure the door had gripped it.
“If the hair ends up on the floor, it means someone opened the door,” he explained.
She tilted her head, her voice colored with doubt. “Even though no one’s here? No signs, no sounds, no nothing from anyone?”
“Claire will tell us if the cameras pick up anything. But we won’t see anyone who sneaks up the stairs on the other side,” Montgomery reasoned, waving vaguely across the darkening courtyard to the far side of the Castle.
Hartley searched his face. “Who’ll watch the cameras overnight?”
“Eli, or one of the men with Claire.” Montgomery waved her to follow him.
Their footsteps echoed in the stone stairwell, the darkness enveloping them like a shroud until they emerged into the courtyard.
“Let’s stay under here,” he said, pointing to the walkway along the covered portion of the inner keep. He didn’t like them being exposed out in the courtyard.
He wasn’t certain where the kitchen was, so he pointed her ahead and followed. Hartley walked about thirty feet, then made a left turn onto the dark walkway that would take guests to the replica drawbridge. Midway down the hall, she turned left again into an even darker corridor.
“Wait,” he said, taking her elbow and stepping in front of her. He turned on his flashlight, aiming it at the ground. They continued until a wooden door appeared ahead of them. It had a round window, but was dark. He pushed, but the door wouldn’t open.
“I have to swipe,” she said. She leaned close and waved her bracelet against a sensor. The beep rang piercingly loud in the confined space, and combined with her body pressed against him and the smell of her filling his nostrils, it made him more stressed than he’d been when checking the rooms.
“Let’s go,” he said, pushing the door open and escaping the intimacy of the hall. He reached around for the light switch, flipping it on to reveal a gleaming modern kitchen. The white tile and polished nickel were momentarily blinding. “Impressive for a medieval castle,” he said.
She looked around, her voice tinged with amusement. “Can you imagine people from King Arthur’s time walking into this?”
The stainless-steel appliances clashed with the rough-hewn stone walls on the other side of the door.
