Finding Sonny Zarver was easier said than done. Molly tapped at her phone screen as she thought, trying to come up with the best plan. She realized that Norah and Cara had spoiled her with their research skills, always handing Molly a file filled with leads and background information for each skip she was tracking. She hadn’t started from square zero in over a year.
Realizing that John hadn’t started his SUV, even though they were both buckled in, she gave him an inquiring glance.
“What’s next?” he asked.
The question took her by surprise. John had been doing that a lot lately, challenging assumptions about him she’d held on to since they’d first met. She’d figured that he’d want to lead, and that she would have to fight to get him to listen to her ideas, but he was just sitting there, waiting for her to tell him how they were going to run the show.
Her eyebrows lifted along with the corners of her mouth. She could work with this John Carmondy. “I’m starting from scratch on this one. Up until this point, I’ve always tried to avoid places where Sonny Zarver and his friends hang out.”
He smiled back at her. “Me too.”
“So much for that excellent plan.” As he made a grunt of amused agreement, she thought about the next step. “Let’s start at 200 Bluffside Road.”
His gaze snapped to hers, and she took an odd satisfaction in surprising him. “The police station? Isn’t that the only place we know is Sonny-free?”
She knew her smile was smug but didn’t really care. “There’s a sergeant there who owes me a favor.”
John sent her another curious look but didn’t say anything. He just started the SUV and eased it away from the curb. They traveled in silence for a while, and Molly shifted restlessly, missing her car and the control driving gave her. To distract herself, she pulled up her contacts on her phone and started skimming through them, checking for people with possible connections to Sonny. She narrowed it down to three and sent them each a text, asking if they had any information on Zarver’s whereabouts.
Only one responded immediately. Are you crazy?? Why are you messing with him???
Molly must’ve made a face, because John asked, “What is it?”
“One of my contacts just confirming what a dumb thing we’re doing,” she said, just as a text from another person came in. NO! “Two of my contacts.” There was another buzz from her phone, and she sighed. “All of them. They all think I’m insane for going after Sonny.”
“Well…” He trailed off into silence as he pulled into the lot of the law enforcement center. He didn’t need to finish his thought, though. Molly knew perfectly well that he considered this a suicide mission…and she didn’t disagree.
She tried to mash down that feeling of impending doom as she hopped out of the SUV and headed for the front entrance, but she was only somewhat successful. Apprehension still tagged after her, nipping at her heels like a phantom sheepdog. John caught up to her easily, his huge form falling into step next to her, and she gave him a sideways glance. Despite the strange rivalry or whatever they’d had happening since they met, she had to admit that she was glad he was with her.
He pulled open the door for her, and she stepped inside. Only when she blinked in the brightness of the artificial lights did she realize how dark it had gotten outside. She almost ran into someone heading out the door, dodging out of the way at the last second before she crashed into them.
“Excuse me,” she said automatically, a moment before she recognized Detective Mill, the ray of sunshine who’d been at her house that afternoon.
His gaze turned frigid, so she guessed that he’d just recognized her, too. “Back again? What happened this time?”
“Nothing to do with you.” She always tried to have good relationships with the cops she dealt with in her work, but she was pretty sure that Mill would never be an ally. Besides, he and Bastien would be trotting back to Denver as soon as they wrapped up their case, so she let a bit of her snarky side show. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you have criminals you need to let loose to roam the streets and break into innocent people’s houses.”
“Innocent?” His tone was thick with sarcasm. “Right.”
She was just thinking up a great comeback when a big hand on her lower back nudged her forward past Mill. Although she gave John a minor glare, she allowed him to usher her away from the aggravating cop. Mill muttered something not quite loud enough for her to make out before he shoved open the door and left the building. “What is his deal?” she asked under her breath.
“Who knows, but you’re not going to gain anything by getting into a pissing match with him.” John kept his hand on her back as they approached the desk sergeant, and Molly allowed it for a few seconds before shifting to the side. His touch disappeared, and she immediately missed the warmth and, even more, the feeling that John had her back.
Shaking off her distracting feelings, she stepped up to the window dividing the main reception area from the desk sergeant’s domain. When she recognized who was on duty, she gave him a genuine smile of greeting. “Sergeant Garcia. What are you doing behind a desk? Did you hurt yourself again, or is your knee still giving you trouble?”
His return grin turned into a pained frown as he held up his left arm, showing her the plastic brace on his forearm. “I wish it were just my knee. Everyone’s started calling me Sergeant Glass.”
She winced sympathetically. “What happened?”
“Slid on some loose gravel and fell.” Lowering his injured arm, he gave a shrug. “My wrist took the worst of it.”
“At least you didn’t land on your face. Protect the moneymaker, right?”
“That’s right.” He chuckled as his gaze flicked back and forth between Molly and John. “What’s with the two of you? You working together now?”
It took some effort, but Molly resisted the urge to glance at John as she answered. Instead, she kept her gaze locked on Garcia’s face. “John’s just helping me out with a tricky skip.”
The sergeant went quiet for a few moments, still studying them as his expression sobered. “Hope that ‘tricky skip’ isn’t a certain Mr. Zarver.”
She made a face. “Are you psychic? Because that’s not fair if you are.”
“Mooollllly.” He dragged out her name in an extended scolding whine before his voice returned to its usual tenor. “What are you thinking? Zarver’s bad news. I like you. I don’t want bad things to happen to you, but they will, if you hang around Zarver and his pals.”
“I know.” She did her best to not sound flippant or like she’d heard the same lecture a half-dozen times, even though she had. “I’ll be careful. Besides…” She bumped John’s meaty biceps with her shoulder, just then noticing that he’d moved very close to her. Although she gave him a funny look, she didn’t move away. “Carmondy’s on the case with me. I’ll just leap behind him and use him for a shield when the bullets start flying.”
The sergeant laughed as John gave her a look that was both censorious and wry.
The discussion about Sonny reminded Molly of why they were at the station. “Is Sergeant Blake in?”
“Hoping to mine her brain for nuggets of Sonny info?” Garcia asked with a wicked grin.
“Something like that.” She lifted her hands in a What can you do motion.
“The answer’s no. The sergeant—the other sergeant—is out for the rest of the week, and maybe longer. Her kid has chicken pox.”
“Chicken pox?” A feeling of dread settled back into Molly’s belly. No wonder she hadn’t been able to get hold of Blake. Although she knew no one was to blame for a sick kid, she was tempted to throw a mini-tantrum. The loss of her key contact was going to hurt. “Don’t parents vaccinate their kids for that now?”
“She did, and he still managed to catch it. Must be a mutant strain.” Reaching out to the bottle of hand sanitizer sitting on his desk, Garcia pumped a generous amount into his palm and slicked it over his hands with great care.
Molly watched absently, her brain ticking over possible new plans. “You always know what’s going on in Langston,” she said, figuring she might as well give it a shot, even if Garcia was giving her a skeptical look as he de-germed his hands. “I don’t suppose you could pass along some of Zarver’s known associates, could you?”
“You know I can’t give you that information.” Garcia tsked at her, even as his grin threatened to break free. “Blake might whisper helpful things in your ear, but I’m not that kind of man.” His huff sounded put-on, and he gave her a quick sideways look that gave her hope.
“If you do this, you’ll be my favorite cop,” she wheedled.
“Really?”
“Well, one of my favorites.” Sergeant Blake had been too helpful over the years to be replaced thanks to one measly bout of chicken pox.
The door behind Garcia’s desk swung open, and Lieutenant Botha stepped through. “Ms. Pax…and Mr. Carmondy,” she said as Garcia straightened, his grin falling away. “To what do I owe this double bounty-hunter pleasure? Here to pump my sergeants for information?”
Placing her hand on her chest, Molly plastered on an appalled look when she really wanted to growl with irritation. Garcia had been so close to sharing before they were interrupted, and there was no way that Botha would spill any information. She loved rules and order too much for that. “As if I’d ever do that.” She wished she had pearls to clutch. It would’ve added so much to her faux outrage. “I’m just helping you put the ‘community’ in ‘community policing.’” At John’s snort, she smothered the urge to elbow him.
The smooth skin between Botha’s perfectly formed eyebrows puckered. “What does that even mean?”
“Just checking in, seeing how all of my cop friends are doing.” She turned back to Garcia and gave him her best pleading-puppy expression. He rolled his eyes, but she pressed on, not wanting the visit to have been a total waste. “I’ll make sure to visit that great bar you were telling me about. What was the name again?”
His sigh was audible, and Molly turned up the urgency in her wide eyes. “Dutch’s,” he mumbled as he shifted folders on his desk.
Hope lit in Molly’s belly, causing it to untwist slightly. “Right. Thank you.” She put a heavy emphasis on the last two words, which made Botha’s brows draw even closer together as Garcia sent a hunted look toward Molly.
Now that she had some sort of lead, she gave the two cops a wave goodbye and headed for the door, John still sticking close to her side. Once they’d made it outside into the sodium-lit parking area, she grinned up at him. “So…Dutch’s. It’s a starting place, at least.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure that Garcia was going to come through for us, but you worked your magic.”
She peered up at him, checking for any professional jealousy or insincerity. She didn’t see any sign of it, though. “What was up with you in there? I would’ve never thought you could stay quiet for so long.”
“You had it handled…well, until the lieutenant made her appearance, but I couldn’t do anything to help that. It was just bad luck, and you still got a possible location from Garcia. Good job.”
His praise made her too happy. She knew that was dangerous, to allow herself to fill with buoyant air every time he complimented her, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “Thanks. I was worried when I heard that Blake’s out for a while. She’s the one who owes me a huge favor, so I get lots of useful tidbits from her.”
Even in the dim light, John’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What does she owe you for?”
She leaned in, as if she was about to share a huge secret. When he dipped his head down toward her, his attention laser-focused, she whispered, “It’s a really wild story…and none of your business.”
Trying not to laugh at his look of exaggerated disappointment, she strode to his SUV, needing to put a little distance between them so her brain would start working again. It was that stupid, slight hint of sugar and strawberry scent that did her in every time, which just made her more infuriated with that tiny, bitty part of her that squeed with excitement whenever he was close enough to get a whiff.
With a cough, Molly waited for him to beep open the doors, working equally hard at banishing the dangerous flickers of a Carmondy crush and focusing on the next step in tracking down Sonny Zarver. Just the thought of his name was enough to sober her, wiping away every giddy feeling and replacing it with dread.
By the time John was buckling himself into the driver’s seat, Molly had a plan in place—or the start of one, at least.
“To Dutch’s, then?” he asked, starting the SUV.
“We need to make a detour to my house first.”
He turned left out of the parking lot. “Did you forget something?”
“Pants.” She flicked at the hem of her sundress, and he shot a glance at her legs before quickly refocusing on the road. “Plus a few other things.” She’d been in Dutch’s once or twice, although she did her best to stay away from the hole-in-the-wall bar—which had always fit nicely with her previous plan of avoiding unnecessary danger. Just from those few visits, she knew she’d need some of her favorite on-the-job tools.
John cleared his throat. “Pants are probably a good idea. Dutch’s is probably the only place you could get tetanus and hepatitis from sitting on one of their barstools.”
Her lips pulled back in a disgusted grimace. “Thanks for that. I think I’ll just stay standing, pants or no pants.”
“Good idea.”
He pulled into her driveway, and she hurried to get out of the SUV and jogged toward the front door, figuring that John would wait for her outside. When she heard the car door slam, she turned to see him following her, and she fixed him with a look.
“What are you doing?”
His eyebrows rose, matching hers, and his stride didn’t slow until he stood right next to her on the front porch. “Getting you some pants.”
“I don’t exactly need your help with that.” Despite her words, she unlocked the door and let him follow her inside. If she stopped every time they disagreed about something, they wouldn’t get anything done. “I’ve been getting myself dressed for several years now.”
His chuckle was low and had an odd note of heat, but she immediately dismissed the thought. If it was anything close to that, it was because he was just teasing her. Before he could say anything, the throaty grumble of a car engine turning over caught both of their attention.
The neighborhood was normally quiet—when they weren’t getting their house searched by police and having random guys trying to break in. Since the hunting lodge’s entrance was on the other side of the resort’s property, the only occasional traffic was Mr. P’s BMW sedan or the Villaneaus’ grown daughter’s minivan. Molly knew the sound and appearance of all her neighbors’ vehicles. She was even familiar with all her neighbors’ friends’ and families’ vehicles.
She didn’t know this car.
She peered through the darkness, trying to make out the driver, but the car was sitting in the gloomy spot between two streetlights. The porch light above her was spotlighting her position and ruining her night vision, and she suddenly felt exposed. The dark interior of the strange vehicle seemed menacing, the unknown making the unseen driver a thousand times scarier than if she’d been able to make out the slightest details. All of the stories about Sonny’s horrific misdeeds, both rumored and confirmed, rose in her mind, and her breath caught audibly.
“What’s wrong?” John asked, his voice growly, protective almost, as his gaze swept the street and immediately landed on the unknown car. “Who’s that?”
The reminder of John’s presence pulled her out of her imagination-fueled worry, and anger shoved out her feeling of vulnerability. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” This was her neighborhood, her house. What right did this interloper have to make her feel hunted on her own front porch? As she surged down the steps and toward the car, intending to confront the driver, the headlights flashed on, blinding her even further. She hesitated, blinking away the bright haloes burned into her vision, and the car shot forward. The engine roared as the driver accelerated quickly, darting past her and leaving just the shrinking taillights and the acrid scent of burned rubber behind.
“I don’t suppose you caught a plate number?” Even as she asked, Molly knew the answer would be no. There was no way that John had caught a glimpse of the license plate. With the glare of the headlights, all she’d been able to tell was that it’d been a four-door sedan.
“No.” His voice came from right behind her, surprising her. She’d figured he’d stayed on the porch, but he must’ve followed during her impulsive attempt to confront the mystery car’s driver.
Since the taillights had disappeared into the night, she turned and started back toward the house. John fell in beside her. “Any idea who that was? You didn’t happen to get a peek at the driver, did you?” she asked.
“No to both.” John’s voice was tight with worry. “All I caught was that the car was a late-model Dodge Charger, dark blue or possibly green.”
“Oh well.” Molly brushed off her disappointment and a lingering feeling of menace as she returned to the front door and opened it, waving John through into the house. “They weren’t actually doing anything wrong, except being somewhat creepy.” She had a hunch the cops—especially her two new Denver detective buddies—would’ve frowned on her doing a citizen’s arrest for loitering. Still, with everything that had been happening, she knew better than to dismiss the incident completely. Besides, listening to her gut had kept her alive in a dangerous job over the past few years. If her instincts were telling her that something was off about that mystery car, she was going to listen.
Warrant greeted them, the lazy wag of his tail speeding up when he recognized John, who gave the dog’s ruff a vigorous scratching. When John looked up and caught Molly’s exasperated expression, he asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” she grumbled, not wanting to admit that she was a little miffed that her dog was more excited to see Carmondy than he was to see her, the person who fed him. She really didn’t want to admit that watching John loving on her dog was annoyingly endearing. Giving herself a mental shake, she started to automatically tell John to make himself at home, but then she caught herself and stuffed the words back down. He didn’t need any encouragement to wedge himself even further into her life. Instead, as she headed for the stairs, she simply said, “I’ll be right back.”
On her way to go change, she saw the door to Norah’s tiny bedroom was ajar and stuck her head in to see her sister in her usual position: sitting cross-legged on the bed, hunched over her laptop. Since Norah was obviously caught up in whatever was on her screen, Molly tapped her knuckles lightly against the doorjamb. Her efforts not to startle Norah weren’t successful, since she jumped about a foot at the quiet knock.
“Molly! I didn’t hear you come in.” She straightened her laptop, which had toppled sideways when she’d startled. “You’re back early. No luck?”
“Costume change and weapon collection,” Molly explained. “Then we’ll be heading back out again. All’s quiet here?” Even as she kept her voice light, she thought about the car sitting within view of their house. Sometimes, she wished that Norah didn’t get so caught up in her research. When she was really interested in what she was reading, the rest of the world disappeared.
“Yeah.” Norah stretched her arms toward the ceiling, making her oversize sleep shirt bunch up around her shoulders. “Where’s John? Did you ditch him already?”
“No. Not that it hasn’t been tempting.” The last part felt like a lie, and Molly hurried to change the subject before she did something ridiculous—like blush or explain that she’d been tempted by John, just not to escape him. “Is Cara in her room?”
“I think so.” A small line appeared between Norah’s eyebrows. “She said she had to run a few errands, but that was…” She glanced at the screen, as if checking the time. “An hour ago? Maybe? Sorry, I was caught up in this.” As she gestured toward her laptop, worry tightened her features, and Molly hid her irrational concern for Cara being out alone under a reassuring smile.
“I’ll check in with her before I leave. There was a car I didn’t recognized parked outside, but they drove off as soon as I headed toward them. Did you hear anything?”
Norah’s eyes widened. “No, nothing. Who do you think it was?”
Attempting to look unconcerned, Molly waved a deliberately careless hand. She wanted Norah to be watchful but not terrified, and that was a tough balance to achieve. “Probably just a lost tourist. Keep an eye out, though, just in case.” Norah was beginning to look hunted, so Molly deliberately switched topics. “Any leads on where Mom might’ve gone?”
“I might’ve found her car at a dealership in Colorado Springs.” The anxiety in Norah’s expression eased as she spoke. “The VIN is off by a couple of numbers, but that could’ve just been because someone got sloppy entering it.”
“Or the dealer suspected it might be stolen, so they’re hoping to sell it before anyone tracks it down and they’re left without their money or a car,” Molly said.
Norah raised a shoulder in a shrug that Molly knew meant she agreed. “Felicity and Charlie are going to check it out tomorrow morning.”
“Good job, researching genius.” Moving into the room, Molly extended her fist. Norah bumped it while giving her a rare smile. “Any sign of my car?”
“Maybe.” She fiddled with her laptop. “Nothing concrete enough to share yet.”
“Okay.” Shoving down her disappointment and antsy need to push for more answers, Molly moved to the doorway. If pressured, Norah would shut down, which wouldn’t help anyone, but it was hard to be patient. “Text me if you need anything. Nice work so far. Don’t stay up too late.”
“I will, thanks, and I won’t.” The words sounded distracted, as if Norah was already back in her research fog.
Molly backed out of the room, pulling the door mostly closed behind her, and ran into a solid form. Whirling around, she shoved away from the person she’d just run into, her fists automatically raising into a defensive position in front of her face. In that second, she recognized the man standing in her upstairs hallway, and her alarm faded—even as her annoyance increased.
“Carmondy,” she hissed, dragging him away from Norah’s room and into hers so she could yell at him without whispering. “What are you doing up here?”
His linebacker-worthy shoulders lifted and fell. “Just checking on you. I heard your voice but not what you were saying, and I thought you might be calling for me.”
“Calling for you? Calling for you?” His look of innocence aggravated her even as she struggled not to find him amusing. It was the same reason she had a hard time training Warrant. Both the dog and John were too endearing for their own good, even when they were misbehaving. Biting back any hint of a smile, Molly gave him the sternest look she could manage. “Don’t worry. If I ever call for you, you’ll know.”
“Good to know. Ready?” His gaze flickered down to her still bare legs before slowly making their way back up to her face. “Weren’t you going to change?”
Ignoring his question, she rested her hands on her hips and stared at the ceiling, searching for patience. When she realized that none was forthcoming, she sighed heavily and met his eyes again. “Why do you have to be this way?”
“What way?”
The right words escaped her, so she waved her arms in a way that encompassed his whole huge form. “So…lurky. Happy and lurky.”
His grin actually widened at that. “Thank you, but I think the phrase you’re searching for is happy-go-lucky.”
“No.” Giving up, she dropped her backpack on the floor and headed for her closet. “That’s not what I’m searching for. Now, get out.”
“You sure you don’t need any hel—?”
“Out.” She emphasized the single-word command by pointing at the door. Even though he still wore his stupid grin, he obeyed, slipping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him. Despite knowing that he was safely in the hall and did not, to the best of her knowledge, have X-ray vision, Molly still changed in a hurry, half expecting him to burst in with some half-assed excuse at any moment.
She managed to yank on her cargo pants and T-shirt uninterrupted, so she opened her nightstand drawer and picked through the contents. Since her pants provided multiple, easy-to-reach pockets, she decided to bring along a few more accessories than she normally did: a Taser, two folding knives, a pair of handcuffs, her lock-pick kit, a travel-sized pepper spray, and a few other handy odds and ends.
After twisting her hair into a braided bun at the base of her neck and checking to make sure her backpack had the usual first-aid kit and other essentials she needed when out chasing skips, she couldn’t resist a quick glance in the mirror to make sure she looked okay. As soon as her eyes met her reflection, she looked away. What was she doing? This was a dangerous and important thing she needed to do, and she couldn’t be getting distracted by her impromptu partner.
Turning resolutely toward the door, she shouldered her backpack and checked off all the items on her mental checklist. She was ready to go. As soon as she’d taken a single step toward the entrance to her room, the door swung open and Mr. Happy-and-Lurky stuck his face inside.
“Ready?”
“What’s with your knocking deficiency?” she demanded, although most of the heat in her voice was gone. She was already learning to pick her battles with John, and they’d only been partners for a very short time—not even partners. It was more like they were acquaintances who’d stumbled over the same case…acquaintances who liked to bicker a lot. Recently, that bickering had felt like it bordered on flirting. Wrinkling her nose, Molly made a mental resolution to nip that in the bud. There’d be no living with her sisters if they found out that they’d been right all along about John Carmondy’s more-than-friendly feelings toward her…not to mention her own confusing emotions.
“Sorry.” He thumped his knuckles against the doorframe. “It’s me, John Carmondy. Ready?”
She just rolled her eyes silently at him as she squeezed by him into the hall. Although she managed to squeak by with just the lightest brush of fabric and exposed skin, her traitorous pulse still thumped in double time from his proximity. “I’m just going to check in with Cara first.”
The twins’ bedroom door was closed, so she tapped on it, waiting to be invited in. When she was met with silence, she stuck her head in, taking in the unoccupied room. Backing out again, she closed the door behind her and typed a quick text to Cara, asking where she was and if she was okay. After a short pause, she sent a check-in message to Felicity and Charlie’s phones, too. Everything that had happened was making Molly twitchy, and she didn’t like not having her sisters safely within sight. It was silly, since they were just as proficient at taking care of themselves as Molly was—well, most of them, at least—but she still couldn’t quiet the instinct to keep her younger sisters safe.
“Is she supposed to be home?” John asked, drawing her attention away from her phone. His expression had grown serious—worried, even—and she blinked at him, a little surprised by how much he seemed to care. Her phone’s text alert sounded, pulling her out of her distracted thoughts. It was Felicity, confirming that both she and Charlie were fine—frustrated by a lack of leads, but otherwise fine. John shifted closer, reminding Molly that he’d asked a question about Cara.
Holding out one hand, she turned it side to side. “She’s an adult, so she can go where she wants, but I just need to make sure she’s okay. That car outside…” She let her voice trail off, not wanting to admit that she was spooked. Her phone beeped again, saving her from having to complete her thought. “She’s fine.” Molly frowned at the text. “Weirdly cagey, but fine.”
“Weirdly cagey how?”
“She’s not admitting where she is exactly.” She typed as she spoke.
What animal would you be?
“What?” John asked. “That’s a random question.” He’d moved closer so he could read her phone. Without looking up at him, she put one hand in the middle of his chest and pushed until he took two steps back. Her fingers wanted to linger and explore the rock-solid planes of his upper torso, but she forced her hand to drop.
Panda bear. I’m FINE.
Although she was relieved at Cara’s answer, Molly was still immensely curious about where her sister could be. Telling herself firmly that it was none of her business and, as she’d told John, Cara was an adult who could go wherever she wanted without having to explain herself to her nosy older sister, she pocketed her phone.
“Do we need to go save Cara?” John asked, and she shot him a sharp look. He’d asked so calmly, yet seriously, and was obviously fully prepared to mount a sister rescue mission if it was necessary. Her heart did a funny little skip, and she could feel her defenses against John Carmondy crumbling even more. How could she keep from liking him when he went all white knight in defense of her sisters?
“No. She answered the Did your abductor take your phone and text for you? question right, so she really is okay. I’m just not sure where she is. Let’s head to Dutch’s before I’m tempted to track her phone.”
John looked a bit disappointed, making her think that he’d been hoping to do some tracking—or that he just wanted to put off their search for Sonny. He gestured toward the stairs, and Molly descended them in front of him. Normally, she liked to keep everyone who wasn’t family—actually, everyone who wasn’t her sisters—in her sights, since her years in bail recovery had taught her that she never could predict what panicked and desperate people would do. Strangely, she was comfortable with John behind her. For some reason, she trusted him to watch her back.
Surprised and a little discomfited by this realization, she glanced at him over her shoulder.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” It came out too quickly, and she hurried to face forward again, making a beeline for the front door.
“Now I really want to know.” Laughter underscored his words, and she sighed soundlessly.
Unlocking and opening the front door, she didn’t look at him as she walked outside. “Sometimes, Carmondy, nothing really means nothing.”
Now she just had to convince herself. Despite her best efforts, her feelings toward John were starting to turn into a very scary and confusing something.