Forty is the New Dead: Paranormal Women's Fiction (Return of the King) (Magical Midlife Death Book 7) by Tia Didmon

Author:Tia Didmon [Didmon, Tia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bold Butterfly Publishing Inc.
Published: 2024-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

As we drove to Club Spice, the tension in the limo was palpable. It was unusual for Isra to text rather than call if there was an emergency, but when I asked him what was wrong, he simply texted to come over right away. The message was uncharacteristically terse, and it set my nerves on edge.

My thoughts strayed to my daughter. What other reason would Isra have for summoning me back to the club so soon? The possibilities churned in my mind, each more worrying than the last. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Isra was nervous, and that wasn’t like him.

The city lights blurred past as we sped through the streets, the familiar route to Club Spice offering little comfort. My mind raced, each passing second amplifying my anxiety. I glanced at Rene, his face set in a mask of calm determination. He was always impassive in these moments, but even his presence couldn’t fully dispel my unease.

Cassara and Constantine sat quietly, their own thoughts hidden behind stoic expressions. I knew they sensed my distress. Their eyes flicked toward me with silent concern.

As we approached the club, the neon lights of the sign flickered into view. The logo of the spice bottle surrounded by fairy lights was a stark reminder of the many nights spent here, the laughter, the music, the sense of belonging. But tonight, those memories felt distant and fragile.

We exited the limo and made our way to the entrance, the usual buzz of excitement from the club’s patrons feeling oddly muted. Darcy nodded to us but stepped out of our way without comment and that too was unusual. As we passed through the doors, my resolve hardened, and I immediately took the stairs that led to Isra’s suite. I heard my daughter’s laughter above the crowd, and I glanced over at the bar to see her placing drinks on a tray. She looked happy, and I began to wonder if she had anything to do with Isra’s text.

I was at the top of the stairs with Rene beside me and knocked on the door quickly before entering.

“Come in,” Isra called out from inside.

We entered Isra’s suite, the room immediately awash with the vibrant energy that only Isra could bring. He was wearing a long black sequin dress with a small train that shimmered under the lights, a red feather boa draped elegantly over his shoulders. His blond wig cascaded down his back like a lemon waterfall, every strand perfectly in place.

“Wow,” Cass said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

Isra ran his manicured fingers over the crimson feathers, a coy smile playing on his lips. “Do you like it, Constantine?”

Constantine looked him over slowly, his expression inscrutable. “It is interesting,” he said, his tone flat and measured.

Isra sighed dramatically, his shoulders drooping slightly. “I guess I need to try harder.”

Despite his theatrics, Isra didn’t appear to be in any distress. I glanced around the room, searching for any sign of the emergency that had prompted his urgent text.

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