The flash of light and crashing boom of the explosion blinded and deafened Molly as she flew through the air, the sudden, unexpected shock of it stealing her ability to think. The floor came flying up to meet her face, and she automatically executed a dive roll. Her palms connected with the gritty concrete floor as she tucked her head and curled her body, letting her momentum carry her through the somersault and onto her feet. A tiny, functioning portion of her brain thanked Felicity for forcing them to practice tumbling moves over and over until the motions were burned into her muscle memory.
She crouched for a fraction of a second, not sure what was happening and disoriented by the flickering, changing lights and smoky smell. A crashing sound next to her jerked her out of her frozen paralysis. Twisting around, lifting her fists instinctively in front of her face, she saw John sprawled on the floor, wooden pallets scattered around him. Apparently, he hadn’t landed as gracefully as she had.
Before she even thought about moving, she was already rushing to crouch next to John’s large, motionless form. Her heart thudded with dread as she took in his closed eyes and limp body. He was normally so strong and dynamic that it was horribly wrong seeing him lying there so still. With a hand that trembled despite her best attempt at staying calm, she reached to check his pulse. Before her fingers could touch his skin, his eyes blinked open, and relief poured through her in a dizzying rush. His eyes went from fuzzy to sharp, focusing on Molly.
Realizing that her hand was still outstretched, reaching for his neck, she dropped her arm to her side. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” The answer was more of a grunt than a word as he pushed up into a seated position, his gaze never leaving her. “What about you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Resisting the urge to help him, she kept her hands to herself with a great deal of effort. She watched him as he moved, taking in the flash of a grimace before he smoothed his expression into neutral blankness. Even when he was obviously in pain, he kept his attention locked on her, his gaze roaming her body as if checking to make sure that she’d been telling the truth about not being injured.
His concern warmed a part of her, even as her own worry had her fighting the need to hold him upright as she checked for hidden injuries. Only when she’d reassured herself that he wasn’t going to fall over unconscious or start spurting blood from some yet-unnoticed wound did she stand and turn toward the open door.
The alley and the back of Dutch’s could be seen, since the door had swung open completely when the explosion had sent Molly and John flying. Some debris and remaining parts of the bar’s back wall were burning sluggishly, illuminating the blackened hole leading into the men’s bathroom. Water sprayed from broken and twisted pipes, hitting some of the flames with a hiss of steam. Curious faces peered at her through the new hole in the wall, and she could hear the excited chatter of the bar residents. From the lack of panic, she assumed that no one in Dutch’s had been seriously hurt by the blast.
At the faint sound of sirens, she glanced back at John, who’d gotten to his feet. He appeared to be relatively steady, so she closed the door leading to the alley, shutting out the view of the damaged bar. They’d had enough encounters with law enforcement for one day. Besides, there was someone else in the building. She’d seen a movement just seconds before the explosion. If they could track down Sonny Zarver after all, it would make braving the hostile bar crowd and the explosion worth it. They needed to show something for this hellacious night. The toe of her boot hit something that skittered across the floor. She frowned at it until she realized it was a piece of her Taser. The rest of its remains were scattered across the corridor, and she sighed. It had been her favorite.
As she moved past John, he lifted his eyebrows in a quizzical look but didn’t question her. Instead, he fell in behind her as she moved down the hallway. His lack of argument made her wonder if he’d hit his head. It wasn’t like him to obey passively. She gave him another sharp look over her shoulder. His eyes seemed clear and focused, and he appeared to be walking in a straight line. Concentrating on making her way deeper into the building, Molly forced herself to quit obsessing over John’s possible injuries. If Sonny was still in the building, their lives could depend on her not being distracted.
She followed the scuffs on the dusty floor, careful to keep an eye out for any sounds or movements and once again grateful for John’s strong presence at her back. The sirens were growing loud enough to be heard inside the closed-up warehouse, and Molly frowned as she moved carefully along the hallway. The emergency vehicles were making it hard to hear if someone else was sneaking up on them. If Sonny was around the next corner, she wanted some advance warning.
A hand settled on her shoulder, making her jump in the split second before she recognized the touch as John’s. He nudged her to the right, pointing over her shoulder with his other hand, and she immediately saw that the tracks they were following had indeed turned. She gave the hand still resting on her shoulder a pat in thanks as she switched directions.
The footprints led to a boarded-up window, the broken panes of glass all replaced by sheets of plywood. She pressed and tried to wiggle the boards, but everything was tightly secured. Frowning, she turned toward John, confused by how Sonny—or whoever they’d been following—could have gotten through this particular window.
Before she could voice her thoughts, a shadow moved behind John, catching her attention. The figure lifted a long, thin shape high above his head, and time seemed to freeze as she stared at the menacing threat. Sucking in a harsh breath, Molly knotted her fists in the front of John’s shirt and threw herself back, dragging him along with her. Her back hit the concrete floor hard, knocking the wind out of her. John followed her down, his bulk tumbling toward her, and she stiffened, preparing for the sure-to-be-painful impact. When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes to see that he’d caught his weight on his hands braced on either side of her body. For a fraction of a second, they both froze, his chest pressing against her just hard enough to make her feel protected.
She sucked in shallow breaths, her heart racing from danger and—as poorly timed as it was—John’s unexpected proximity. The moment was gone in less than a blink as John grabbed her and rolled. Startled, she went with it, twisting out of the way just as the end of a two-by-four came crashing down where their heads had been. As soon as they were clear, John was on his feet, chasing their attacker back down the hallway. John glanced back over his shoulder, and Molly waved him on, still unable to take a deep enough breath to speak. Although he frowned, his concern evident even in the frantic moment, he followed her silent direction and continued his pursuit.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, Molly shuffled over until she was propped against a wall. She didn’t want anyone sneaking up behind her, in case Sonny—or whoever had tried to bash their heads in—wasn’t alone. Once her shoulder blades were pressed securely against the wall, she focused on getting her breath back.
As soon as she was breathing semi-normally again, she pushed to her feet and headed after John. Now that they were separated, the silent emptiness of the corridors seemed especially spooky, and the echo of Molly’s boots against the concrete floor sounded much too loud to her own ears. She quieted her footsteps and resisted the urge to call out to John. He could very well have chased his quarry right out of the building and down the alley, and she didn’t want to announce her presence to anyone else who might be lurking in the dark.
The stacks of boxes and pallets absorbed the sounds of her footsteps, somehow making the warehouse seem even eerier than if the space had echoed. It made her feel as if anyone could be creeping up on her or waiting in the shadows just ahead, preparing to grab her as she walked by. Her pace slowed as she peered into the dark corners, finding imaginary menacing figures in every innocuous shape.
A clang rang out, and Molly’s muscles tensed as her body prepared for a fight, before she realized that her foot had hit a discarded scrap of metal, sending it spinning to hit the wall. Her shoulders lowered slightly, but her hands didn’t drop to her sides. Instead, she walked with her fists raised, ready to take on whatever was hiding in the darkness. One of the shadows detached from the others, and she rocked back, hissing as she sucked in a reverse gasp. Her body automatically fell into a defensive position as the towering figure stepped closer, looking huge and dangerous in silhouette.
“It’s just me.” John’s voice was low but immediately recognizable as his, and all of the tension drained out of her, leaving her feeling almost too limp to stand. He stepped closer, and her gaze ran over his face. She felt enormously grateful to see those familiar features.
“Lost him?” she asked. Although her voice was quiet, it still seemed too loud, echoing through the empty space.
“Yeah.” John grimaced. “He’s fast. By the time I realized he wasn’t in front of me anymore, he was long gone.”
Molly sighed, partly in disappointment, and partly from sheer exhaustion. After multiple adrenaline rushes in such a short time, her body was calling it quits. Turning, she headed toward the front of the building. The shadows and the missing skip were still out there, however, reminding her that she couldn’t relax yet. The threat wasn’t eliminated.
“Where are you going?” John asked softly, falling in beside her. He appeared to be in better shape than her tired self, his eyes alert and his head turning from side to side as he kept a lookout for possible danger. There was tension to his muscles, like he was prepared to take on whatever emerged from those menacing shadows. Having John on guard allowed her to shift out of alert mode, and she let him check for danger as she focused on finding their way out.
“A front exit…hopefully.” Molly hid a shiver that ran through her as she stared into the murky dimness in front of them. If it led to another dead end… The last thing she wanted was to get lost in a creepy abandoned warehouse where they’d both nearly been killed.
John made a wordless sound of comprehension, his intense alertness making it clear that he was just as eager to escape the building as she was. They moved quickly but cautiously in mutual silence, John’s head still swiveling and his gaze sharp. Molly was beginning to feel like she was trying to walk through slowly setting cement, and she started to despair that they’d ever find a way out of this gloomy, spooky warehouse.
They turned yet another corner, and Molly’s stomach gave a tiny jump of excitement when she saw a double door—that wasn’t chained shut. As they drew closer and she glimpsed the battered and unlit Exit sign above the door, she almost burst into tears of sheer relief. Luckily, she managed to drag the remains of her will together and keep her exhausted emotions in check…just barely. John eased one side open as she pushed the release bar on the other, opening it a few inches and checking the area in front of the building. All looked still, the empty street feeling almost welcoming after the crowded, shadowed warehouse, so she slipped out and fell into step with John.
As they passed the space between the warehouse and the neighboring building, they both glanced at the spectacle taking place at the back of Dutch’s. Emergency lights flashed, and someone—the firefighters, most likely—had set up bright-white floodlights that made the area glow like a beacon. There were cops all over, as well as a growing crowd of onlookers, and John gave an audible sigh.
“Guess that means I won’t be picking up my car until tomorrow morning,” he said a bit mournfully as they continued down the street.
“It’d be best, unless you want to explain why we’re not bombing suspects tonight. Personally, I’d rather drag my tired ass home and then hash it out with Langston PD tomorrow if we have to.”
From the sound he made, John did not want to stick around to explain things to the cops, either.
“Let’s get the car tomorrow morning. If the cops notice it in the lot and run the plates, you could just say that you had too much to drink, so you called for a ride long before the bar exploded.” Molly felt a slight pang of guilt for getting him into this mess, so of course she overcompensated to try to make up for it. “You can stay at my house tonight, if you like.”
She immediately felt his gaze on the side of her face, but she kept her eyes focused firmly forward, even as she felt goose bumps prickle her skin at the realization that she’d just invited John Carmondy to a sleepover.
When he didn’t respond, she rushed to add, “The buses pretty much stop running at ten, but we could get a ride for you. If Charlie’s back, I can use her car, or we could get a Lyft.” Babble threatened to spill over, so she clamped her lips together and forced herself to wait for John to respond.
“I’ll stay at your house.”
She cocked her head as she studied him, unable to read his expressionless face and even tone. “Okay.” Now that the sleepover was confirmed, panicked thoughts started working their way in. Jane’s room was still a disaster area, her mattress sliced to ribbons, so that wouldn’t work for a guest room. He couldn’t stay in the twins’ room or with her and Fifi or in Norah’s tiny cave, so he’d have to go on the couch. Her shoulders relaxed a little after she came up with a solution that didn’t involve John bunking with her.
The thought of her sisters reminded her that she hadn’t checked on them in a while, and she pulled out her phone to see a couple of text messages had come through during the excitement in the warehouse.
“Everything okay?” John asked as she read them and typed a response.
“Charlie and Fifi want to keep following a lead on Mom, so they’ll be gone for a few days.” Although she kept her voice casual, her heart did the funny little squeeze and hop it always did when any of her sisters were out chasing a skip without her.
Somehow, John must’ve caught on to something in her tone, because he looked at her sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” When he narrowed his eyes at her, like he thought she was prevaricating, she waved a hand. “I’m just being an overly concerned big sister, that’s all.” She dropped her phone back in one of her pants pockets. “I do this every time they head out on their own. It’s like I forget that they’re adults—capable adults.”
“Understandable, since it sounds like you pretty much raised them.” Even though John’s voice was relaxed, Molly noticed that he was still keeping a close eye on their surroundings, from the shadows between the buildings to the occasional vehicle that rolled past. She was grateful that he was alert, since she knew she was too tired and fuzzy-headed to notice anyone unless they ran up and screamed in her face. Shifting closer to John, she took reassurance in the brush of his sleeve against hers, a reminder that there was another capable adult present who would allow her to be off her game for once.
He glanced at her curiously, reminding her that they were having a conversation. “Hmm? Oh, right. Yeah, I guess I did act like the mom…even to Jane.” When the mention of her mother didn’t dredge up the usual vivid anger, Molly knew she really was exhausted. She yawned widely.
“Tired?” he asked.
“Adrenaline crash.” The conversation faded, and Molly fought to keep her eyes from closing. When they finally turned onto her street, she’d never been so grateful to see her neighbors’ ultra-neat lawns. Even as exhausted as she was, she still checked to see if there were any mysterious vehicles parked beside the curb, but the road was empty. A knot in her stomach unwound at this small mercy. She didn’t think she had it in her to chase after another strange, lurking vehicle, not until she’d had a good night’s sleep.
As she crossed the yard and climbed the porch steps, she woke up a little as she peered into the shadows. As Stuart’s unwelcome visit had proved, all the wrong people knew—or would soon find out—about Jane’s theft and subsequent arrest, and they’d be descending on the house like felonious vultures. She huffed a laugh, drawing John’s curious gaze.
“Maybe we should hang a sign on the door, telling everyone that the necklace isn’t here,” she said. “That might cut down on the number of opportunists trying to break in.”
John made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “Are you sure it’s not?”
Instantly, all of Molly’s hackles were up as she turned to face him. Of course he had an ulterior motive. What else would explain how he went from trying to steal her skips out from under her to Mr. Helpful Backup Man? She squashed a rush of hurt that made her insides as tender as a bruise and stoked her anger instead. Since she was two steps higher than John, their eyes were almost level, and she used that unusual advantage to put extra power behind her glare. “Why are you asking? Is all this a scheme to get your hands on the necklace?”
His eyes widened as his hands came up, palms facing her, as if he were warding her off. “Whoa. No, of course not.”
“Uh-huh.” Crossing her arms, she didn’t break their stare, even though she was pretty sure she saw a flash of hurt flicker over his face. She steeled her spine, reminding herself that he was a good actor. There was no reason her distrust should injure his feelings. Besides, she’d said things that were a lot meaner than that before, and he’d simply grinned and let her insults roll right off his back. “If you’re not hunting for the necklace, than what’s all this about?” She gestured broadly, indicating everything that had just happened to them.
“What’s what about?” His already deep voice lowered even more, until it came out in a rumbly growl that made her shiver. What was it about John Carmondy that he could turn her legs to jelly just by talking? There was something very wrong with her. His annoyed tone shouldn’t affect her this way. “Me being nice? You think I can’t be a decent person without having an ulterior motive? Good to know exactly what you think of me.”
“Why wouldn’t I think that? When have you ever done anything for the sake of being ‘nice’?”
“I’m always trying to help; you just never accept it!”
Molly made a scoffing sound. “When have you tried to help—before this whole mess started, I mean?”
“All. The. Time.” His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Molly was trying very hard not to get distracted by how aggravatingly attractive he looked when he was angry. “That skip who tried to jump you at the gas station in Franktown? Then there was the one whose mother chased after you with a hammer. And the guy who started throwing bottles of organic olive oil at you when you cornered him in Whole Foods. Any of these ringing a bell?”
The annoying thing was that they did ring a bell—all sorts of bells, actually. Each time, Molly had assumed that John just happened to be in the right place at the right time to help, thanks to him chasing her skips. She grimaced, feeling the first tentacles of guilt snaking through her. It was getting clearer and clearer that her sisters had been—obnoxiously—right. Molly had been oblivious. “I thought you just wanted to steal jobs from me.”
His expression softened minutely. She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been staring at him, just inches from his face. Sometime during the argument, without realizing it, she’d moved closer to him…really close. “Well, that was a fun side benefit, but you started it.”
Molly sucked in a breath, bracing herself to apologize, but the front door swung open before she could get any of the words out. She turned around to see Cara leaning against the doorjamb, wearing her sleep shorts and a tank, her dark-brown hair rumpled from moving restlessly against a pillow. “If the two of you get any louder, Mr. P is going to call the cops again.”
Seeing her sister’s sleepy face instantly drained all of Molly’s adrenaline, her utter exhaustion waiting to take its place. “Ugh. Sorry. C’mon, let’s go in.” She directed her words to both John and Cara.
Cara took a step back, swinging the door open wide to allow them room to enter, but John gestured for Molly to go in first. His expression was mostly wiped clear, but she could tell there were storm clouds hiding behind his neutral visage. He didn’t immediately follow her in, and Molly turned around to look at him. Their gazes snagged and held, making her pause as she tried to read his thoughts. She was a little overwhelmed by the knowledge that he’d been trailing after her this whole time with the intent of keeping her safe, rather than—well, in addition to—wanting to steal her skips. Her expression must’ve shown her remorse because, with a sigh that she couldn’t interpret any more than she could read his expression, he lost more of his tension and stepped inside.
Molly found herself exhaling a relieved breath, not knowing exactly what had just happened, but glad that it had ended the way it had. If he’d stomped off into the night, she would’ve felt unsettled and antsy and, she admitted grudgingly, she would’ve worried about him until she’d heard that he’d gotten home safely. Even though he was a grown man with a cell phone and a brain who was perfectly capable of getting from one side of their small town to the other, she still would’ve been concerned.
As a fill-in mom, she couldn’t help it. Worrying was what she did. Besides, now that he was neck-deep in the mess her mom had created, he was in as much danger as she and her sisters were. Even though John had willingly helped out, fully knowing what he was getting himself into, Molly couldn’t help but feel guilty—and grateful—that he’d made that sacrifice.
As they entered the living room, her gaze was caught by the rumpled blanket on the couch. “Were you sleeping down here?”
“I was,” Cara confirmed mid-yawn. “I sleep like the dead, but I figured if I was down here, I’d wake up if Stuart came back and tried breaking in again. Now that you’re here, I’m going up to my bed. That couch is the worst. It feels like a bunch of rocks covered in upholstery.”
Carefully avoiding John’s gaze, Molly made a hmm sound. “Once all of this is over and we have some spare cash again, we’re getting an alarm system.” She very deliberately didn’t mention that they might not be living in that house after everything was said and done.
Cara offered a good-night wave and climbed the stairs as John turned toward Molly. Reluctantly, knowing he was about to complain about sleeping on the couch made of rocks, she met his gaze.
“You need that alarm system sooner rather than later,” he said, proving that she hadn’t actually known what he was going to say after all. “I know someone who’ll do it at cost.”
“You know a lot of someones,” she said absently, staring at the couch as her conscience fought with her caution. “It’s handy.” Her conscience won, and she waved him past the sofa and toward the stairs. “Come on upstairs. No sense in you sleeping on a rock mattress when there’s a free bed.”
He didn’t protest. As he climbed the stairs behind her, he said, “I do know a lot of someones. You should take advantage of that. Unless you think I’m offering just so that I have another chance to search for the necklace.”
She tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh, and her attempt to restrain herself turned it into a snort.
“What?” he asked, sounding torn between huffiness and reluctant amusement.
“You’re…” She almost told him that he was cute when he pouted, but she swallowed the words at the last minute. Instead, she cleared her throat and scrambled to think of replacement words, ones that wouldn’t sound so much like flirting. “Nothing. Don’t mind me. I think I’m so tired I’m getting delirious.”
“Bed, then.” His huge hand touched her back ever so lightly, as if to help support her as she walked, and her skin instantly warmed. She knew she should pull away rather than soak up the contact, but it felt too good. Besides, she still felt a residual smidgen of guilt for so quickly assuming his motives were selfish when he’d saved her life at least once that night.
When she reached the bedroom, her hand hesitated on the doorknob for a moment before she turned it. It felt strange inviting John Carmondy into her room when she’d never thought about him except with irritation—and perhaps the tiniest bit of objective lust—until a few days ago. Now, she was trusting him to watch her back…well, mostly trusting him.
As her thoughts tumbled around, trying to figure out how she felt about her changing relationship with John, he stepped into her room, instantly shrinking it to dollhouse size.
Desperately trying to get her thoughts back in order, Molly cleared her throat as she worked out the best arrangement. She didn’t feel right about offering up Felicity’s bed to a random guy—not that John was acting like a random anything these days. “You can have mine.” She waved toward the right side of the room, relieved that she at least had a full-size bed. It would’ve been mortifying if she and Felicity had kid-sized bunkbeds or something. Besides, there was no way that John’s height and muscular bulk would’ve fit in a twin. Shaking away that slightly ridiculous mental picture, she forced herself to focus on what needed doing. “Hang on. Let me get you some clean sheets.”
His eyebrow and the corner of his mouth rose at the same time, giving him that familiar devilish look that signaled he was about to tease her. “Yours are…dirty, then?” The emphasis he put on dirty gave a whole new meaning to the word.
“No.” She was too tired to not get flustered, and that annoyed her. Normally, she prided herself on coolly volleying back whatever John served to her, but it had been a long day—several long days, in fact—and she could feel her face heat with a flush. “Not dirty dirty. I changed them a few days ago. Just, you know, sluffed skin cells and a few stray hairs, that sort of thing.” Okay, she needed to stop talking immediately. Unfortunately, her mouth wasn’t getting the message. “Nights have been cool recently, so I haven’t been sweating, but the sheets probably still smell like me.”
His smirk slowly grew until it was a full grin as he eyed her bed with more lasciviousness than it really deserved. “I’ll use these sheets.”
“But—” She took a step toward her bed, suddenly feeling all sorts of weird about John spending the night wrapped in sheets that she’d rolled around in. It was strangely hot, and that made her squirm.
Before she could strip the bed or finish her objection, he’d maneuvered himself in front of her, blocking her access. If she took even a half step closer, they would be touching. “I’ll be fine,” he said. Although the words were reassuring, there was a deeper timbre to his voice that definitely was not. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“All the way down the hall,” she answered automatically, her brain caught up in the overwhelming proximity of him. “Last door on the left. Why do you smell like bubble gum?”
He blinked. “I do not.”
“You do.”
“I do not smell like bubble gum. I’m not a sticky six-year-old.”
Suddenly realizing the ridiculousness of their argument, she shifted back and mentally changed gears. “Fine. You don’t smell like bubble gum, even though you really do. Hurry up in the bathroom. As soon as you’re done, I want to take a shower. Dutch’s and that empty warehouse left a film of grossness on me.”
He scowled at her, looking like he was dying to continue their discussion, but he clamped his mouth closed with a tight nod and moved to the door instead. At the last second before he disappeared down the hall, he turned back toward her. “Leave those sheets on,” he said, a trace of his usual smirk back in place.
He waited, so she held her hands up in the universal I won’t do anything gesture. “Fine. If you want to sleep in my stink, I’m not going to stop you.”
“I do.” He gave her a wink—which should’ve looked stupid, but because it was John, turned out stupid hot instead—and headed to the bathroom.
As soon as he was out of sight, Molly let out a deep breath and started to sink down onto Felicity’s bed. The squishy mattress called to her, tempting her to lie down and close her eyes, just for a moment. With a groan, she forced herself to stand again. Once she was down, she’d be out like a light, and she’d been telling the truth about needing to wash off this terrible night.
She headed out into the hall, figuring that she might as well check on Norah while she was attempting to stay awake. Cracking her sister’s door, she saw that her room was lit by dim blue light from her sister’s computer screen. Molly knocked softly, pushing open the door the rest of the way when Norah made a quiet sound that she took as an invitation to enter. Norah was sitting on her narrow bed, her legs curled underneath her and her laptop open. The rest of her bed was taken up by a snoring Warrant. Norah’s face was bathed in the bluish light from the screen, making her look even paler than usual. Even though Molly knew it was just an illusion, she still couldn’t stand to see her sister look so sickly. It reminded her too vividly of the many emergency-room visits when they were younger and Norah’s asthma wasn’t controlled. Molly flicked on the floor lamp to its lowest setting, bathing the tiny room with warm yellow light, and Norah instantly looked healthier.
“I know we need to find Mom as soon as possible,” Molly said, leaning on the dresser. She was tempted to plop down on the bed next to her sister, but she knew it’d be just as easy to fall asleep here as it would be in Felicity’s bed. Besides, the thought of waking Warrant and getting him to move was too much effort at the moment. “That doesn’t mean you can’t take a few hours off to sleep.”
Norah finally glanced up to meet Molly’s gaze. “I know. I just keep falling down research rabbit holes.”
“I get it. Find out anything interesting?”
“Maybe.” Norah’s voice was hesitant, cautious as always, and Molly knew not to push. Her sister never liked to share information until after she’d confirmed and reconfirmed her facts.
“John’s staying over tonight.”
That caught Norah’s attention. “He is? With you?”
“Uh…no.” She hated that she’d hesitated on her answer, but the mental image that had sprung up in her head had been very distracting—and, despite knowing it was a bad idea, very tempting. “We had to slip away after Dutch’s exploded.”
“Exploded?” Norah stared at her, eyes wide, her ignored laptop tilting to the side.
“No one was hurt.” After pausing, Molly corrected herself. “I’m pretty sure no one was hurt. We were out of the building at that point. You might want to add getting the police and fire department reports to your to-do list, though.”
“Okay. You’re not hurt? What about John?”
“I’m fine. John’s a little banged up, but I did a beautifully executed dive roll. You should’ve seen it.” Now that the sense of urgency and danger had faded, she wished that move had been recorded.
Norah’s small smile disappeared a moment after it touched her lips. “You need to be careful, especially when you’re dealing with Sonny Zarver.”
“I know, and I will.” Molly made the words a solemn promise.
From Norah’s nod, she understood and accepted it as such.
“Don’t forget to sleep.” Straightening from her leaning position, Molly turned off the light and slipped into the hall before sticking her head back in. “All the rabbit holes will still be there tomorrow, and everything will probably make more sense.”
Although Norah made a sound of agreement, it was absentminded, and her attention was completely focused on her screen again.
“Good night.” Molly pulled her sister’s door closed as she withdrew, knowing that all the well-intentioned nagging in the world wouldn’t get Norah in bed any sooner. She’d finish when she was done researching, and then she’d sleep until noon.
Turning away from Norah’s bedroom door, Molly found herself face to bare chest with John. She couldn’t stop herself from taking in the broad, muscular expanse before resolutely tipping her head back to meet his gaze. She wasn’t sure why she’d thought that looking up would be any less distracting. His beautiful face—with his mile-long dark lashes and full mouth and those tempting dimples—was just as drool-worthy as the hard planes of his chest. He, of course, noticed her looking, and his teasing grin was fully in place.
“See something you like?” he asked, flexing.
She’d already given herself away, but she refused to pump up his ego. It was big enough as it was. She couldn’t bring herself to lie outright, though, so she simply raised one of her shoulders in a half shrug. “Eh.”
Despite her put-on indifference, his smile grew wider. “Don’t pretend like all this”—he made circles in front of his body—“doesn’t flip your lust switch.”
“What?” She laughed. How could she not? “That makes absolutely no sense. And you don’t flip any of my switches.” Despite pretending to be completely immune to his hotness, she couldn’t keep her gaze from straying downward. He was just so perfect and so close and so shirtless.
Her amusement disappeared in a second when she noticed a huge bruise blooming along his side. Moving closer, she grasped his wrist and lifted his arm up and out of the way so she could see his injury. Although she felt him go still from surprise, he allowed her to shift his arm and peer at the dark-red contusion. With her free hand, she traced her fingertips very gently over the area. It was hot and swollen, and she knew it had to hurt. As he sucked in an audible breath, his skin jumping under her touch, she quickly pulled her hand away.
“Sorry. That’s a nasty bruise. Are your ribs okay?” The bruise started beneath his lowest rib, but she still pressed against them to make sure.
He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out huskier than normal. “They’re fine, but you’re welcome to continue your examination. I can point out some other painfully swollen spots for you to examine.”
Rolling her eyes, although less dramatically than she usually did, since he was honestly hurt, Molly carefully lowered his arm to his side. Releasing her grip on his wrist, she took a step back, not willing to admit that the idea of running her hands all over him was surprisingly tempting. “If you’re back to flirting, then you’re not going to die.”
“Just feels like it sometimes,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” His grin was back, but she thought it looked strained. No wonder, since he must be as exhausted as she was, and he was bruised and sore on top of that.
“Go to bed. I’m going to shower and then I’ll join you.” When John’s smile widened into something she could only describe as wolfish, she realized her mistake. “As in join you in sleep, not join you in bed.” Turning on her heel so he couldn’t see the way her face flushed bright red, judging by the heat in her cheeks, Molly headed for the bathroom. She needed to get clean and then go to sleep. If she was unconscious, she wouldn’t keep saying embarrassing things.
It was only after her shower, when she was damp and naked under her towel, dirty clothes tucked into the hamper, that she realized her mistake. She’d forgotten to bring pajamas into the bathroom with her. Now, she was going to have to waltz into her room, where John was, in just a towel, and dig through her dresser drawers…which of course were the bottom two. She could imagine the picture she was going to present, her towel-clad body bent over with her butt in the air as she dug for some clean underwear.
She sighed silently, jerking open the door with resigned resolve. Hopefully, John was fully asleep and would miss the show. With her luck, though, that was unlikely. Her only other option was to sleep naked, and that seemed even more ill-advised when sharing a bedroom with John Carmondy.
“How’d you end up in this situation?” she muttered to herself as she made her way down the hall toward her room. Tucking the towel around her torso a little more securely, she shoved open the door before she could annoy herself by hesitating.
The lights were on, making it easy to see that the room was empty. Molly paused, trying to figure out where John had disappeared to, but then reminded herself that she needed to take advantage of his absence to get less naked. She dressed in record time, yanking on the first pair of panties and sleep shorts she put her hands on. The first two tank tops were discarded because they were too tight, but the third was a loose winner.
Once she was no longer wearing only a towel and John still hadn’t reappeared, she realized she was breathing hard with exertion and felt a little ridiculous for the urgency she’d felt just moments earlier. Her second thought was curiosity about where he’d gone. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sleep with John roaming the house, possibly finding out personal and embarrassing things about her, she left her room to hunt him down.
He wasn’t anywhere on the second level. She’d even peeked into the twins’ room, finding only a heavily sleeping Cara. As she descended the stairs, she realized that she was tiptoeing and mentally scolded herself for being so tentative. She was a big, bad bounty hunter, for Pete’s sake. She should be stomping down the stairs in steel-toed boots and leather pants, not sneaking along on bare feet with rainbow-colored toenails.
Despite her mental lecture, she jumped a foot when a huge form separated from the shadows cloaking the kitchen entrance. “Sorry,” she said once she’d recovered her composure and realized that it was just John. “I should’ve asked if you were hungry when we got home. I hope you helped yourself to whatever you found in there.”
His teeth flashed white in the dim light. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I was just making sure everything was secured.” The humor left his voice as he added, “I’ll get my buddy over here to install a security system first thing tomorrow.”
Molly was about to protest that they didn’t need the help, but she swallowed the words. At this moment, they did need the help, and her prideful objections wouldn’t do anything to keep her family safe. Besides, John did owe her for the bounties she’d missed out on when he’d stolen skips out from under her nose. She ignored the voice in her head that reminded her that she’d pilfered more out from under his nose than he’d ever dreamed about taking from her. “Thanks,” she replied belatedly. Taking a deep breath, she said something that she knew—just knew—was going to come back and bite her hard in the ass. “I’ll owe you one.”
That Cheshire cat grin showed up again. “Oh? That’ll be fun.”
“No.” She huffed, turning toward the stairs to hide the way her mouth wanted to twitch up at the corners. Stupid John Carmondy and his stupid infectious smiles. “That won’t be fun. Not at all.”