Cat and the Rock Star

Chapter 1

Cat Montgomery lifted her eyes from her Kindle and stared into the dark room. Had someone just yelled? Wind moaned outside and wet leaves on nearby trees swished and hissed as they thrashed against each other. She lay among silk sheets and sifted through the sounds of the storm but heard nothing else.

Setting the e-reader on her lap, she stared at the ceiling and watched the black shadows of wind-whipped leaves whirl across the smooth white plaster like frenzied wraiths. Somewhere outside, a branch cracked like a gunshot, setting her nerves on edge.

A vet with two tours in Iraq followed by four years in the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, Cat had been on her own as a private detective and bodyguard for the last four years. But she'd recently moved to Los Angeles, and this was her first big job – a real-life rock star who said he'd had two Grammy awards stolen from inside this house and had heard a voice threaten his life. It was a little bizarre. Truth? She never would have gotten this high-paying, Hollywood gig if it hadn't been for her sister, Tanya, general manager of a super-exclusive hotel on Oahu. Tanya had met the client there and convinced him to hire Cat. This job was the break she'd been hoping for – it had to go well.

It was 2:15 a.m., and she'd set her cell phone alarm for 3:00 to walk the house. She sighed. Might as well do it now. She ran the fingers of her right hand over the cool glass base of her bedside lamp and finding a metal button, she pressed it. A soft white bulb lit up her room, forcing the specters on the ceiling to withdraw.

As she got out of bed, Cat eyed the peach-colored sheets with matching frilly pillowcases, cream-colored carpet, the rest of the room decorated in pastels – it was the human version of a dog bed belonging to some pampered Pekingese.

Dressed in cotton lounge pants and pink T, Cat eased open the door and listened, then walked down the hall of the guest wing towards the center of the house, her bare feet stepping silently on the cool hardwood floor. The flashlight of her cell phone splashed on seven closed bedroom doors, all empty. The only other person inside the house tonight was her client, the musician John Cray, known to the world as Demas.

Reaching the center section of the home, Cat poked her head into the darkened kitchen. Reflections of security lights outside, partially obscured by waving leaves, danced on and off a large rack of copper pots and pans suspended from the ceiling. Cat cupped her ears and searched for stray sounds beyond the kitchen to the dining room and living room. Nothing. Another doorway led to a family room, movie theater, and game room that was also silent. Without a bunch of people, this Bel Air mansion felt more like a mausoleum.

Cat entered the master wing of the house with another eight doors and headed for Demas's bedroom at the end of the corridor. A luxurious Oriental carpet caressed her feet as it gleamed pale blue and silver in the light of her cell phone flashlight. Earlier that evening, the musician told her he'd found the rare rug in a specialty shop in Dubai. It was probably worth more than everything she owned, including her 2018 Toyota RAV4.

"Ah!" A sharp cry emanated from the end of the hall.

Cat raced to the double bedroom doors and shoved one open, stepping inside and flipping the light switch on. The room remained dark. What the hell? A bedroom window was open; rain beating onto the carpet. Cat's cell phone beam illuminated a giant ebony four-poster bed. On top of the covers lay Demas, his slender body arched, his eyes closed and shoulder-length blond hair in disarray. Beside him stood a boy in his late teens in a backwards red baseball cap and blue overalls with his hand raised above Demas's heart. The youth lifted his hand, and Demas's body jerked upwards as if tugged by invisible strings.

The hairs on Cat's arm stood on end. "Hey!" she yelled. She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Get away from him."

The teen turned toward her with black marble eyes and lifted his hand again. Demas gasped. Cat launched herself at the intruder, and he stepped back toward the open window with amazing speed. She tumbled to the floor. The ceiling chandelier lit up as she scrambled to her feet. The teen was gone.