Even after John ended the call, the rest of them were silent until he tossed the phone to Norah. “It’s all yours now, genius.”
Molly eyed him sharply, but there was no sarcasm in the term, just affectionate admiration. Norah, who was not the queen of activities requiring hand-eye coordination, fumbled the catch, and Molly cringed, too far away to make the save this time. By some miracle, Norah managed to hold on to the phone before it hit the floor. Holding it up in a sort of I’ve got this gesture, she rushed upstairs.
“Slippery skip?” Desmond asked.
“You could say that,” John said, greeting his friend with a handshake-hug combination as Molly ended the recording and tucked her phone into her pocket. Already, her thoughts were spinning as she tried to figure out where the “usual place” could be. Dutch’s was too busy, and she couldn’t imagine that Sonny would do anything at Mother Tick’s place, not when he lived there…or at least he had before that morning’s events. Unfortunately, those were the only two places she knew that were connected to Sonny. The “usual place” could be anywhere in Langston or Denver or…well, anywhere within an eleven-hour radius.
“Pax?” John’s voice pulled her from her thoughts to find both men looking at her.
“Sorry.” She grimaced. “Just going over the huge grab bag of possibilities in my head. Why couldn’t he have just given us an address? Easy-peasy, Sonny-handcuffy.”
Huffing a laugh, John shook his head with mock sadness. “That doesn’t flow at all. Really, Pax?”
If she was closer, she would’ve pinched his arm. Instead, she settled for a frosty look before turning to Desmond with a polite smile. “Sorry to grab you and drag you into the house just now. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“No problem.” Desmond’s wide smile was almost as appealing as John’s. “It’s not the strangest greeting I’ve ever gotten.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and Molly instantly wanted to hear stories about the even-weirder situations he’d walked in on. Before she could ask, though, John strode over and threw one of his monster arms over her shoulders, distracting her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, baffled by the action and by the fact that she didn’t hate being tucked against John Carmondy’s side.
“Showing affection.” He cuddled her closer, sending pleasure zinging through her nerve endings. “To you.”
“Why?”
The puzzled look he gave her made her feel like she was the one out of sync. “I’m an affectionate guy?”
Desmond must’ve understood something that she was missing, because he was laughing behind his hand.
Wriggling free, she threw her arms up. “Okay! Today is only half over, and I have a shady business transaction to attend late tonight. I can’t afford to have my brain explode before then, so I’m going to go see if Norah’s having any luck. You guys”—she sketched circles in the air that encompassed the entire house—“do your security-system thing. I trust your judgment.” She paused as she headed for the stairs, glancing back at John. “Just don’t make it too expensive. I’d rather not have to sell this house to pay you for it, not after all the effort we’re going through to keep it in the family.”
“We’ll get you set up,” Desmond said as John fixed her with a wry look that told her he was well aware she was running away. Feeling her cheeks warm, she turned around before he could see the telltale redness. As she climbed the stairs, she could feel his gaze on her back, reminding her of a predator patiently settling in to wait for his prey.
Telling herself that sleep deprivation and an overdose of adrenaline were taking a toll on her, leaving her a victim of a too-active imagination, she shook off the sensation and hurried to Norah’s bedroom door. She knocked and, after waiting for the invitation to come in, slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
“Any luck so far?” she asked.
Norah gave her a really? glance before refocusing on what she was doing with the SIM card. “It’s been, what? Three minutes?”
“Five.” Molly paused. “Maybe. Anyway, it’s a measure of your skill that I believe you could have discovered something by now.”
“Mmm-mmm.” Norah didn’t sound like she fully believed Molly’s excuse.
“Fine. John was weirding me out.”
That caught her sister’s attention. “What do you mean? I thought the two of you were…you know.”
Molly fixed Norah with her best basilisk stare. “Why did you think that? Have you been listening to Fifi’s gossip again?”
“No.” Norah—sweet, innocent Norah—rolled her eyes so hard that Molly thought they would roll out of their sockets. “Anyone who’s around the two of you for five seconds knows that you’re banging. It’s obvious.”
“Banging?” This was so much worse than she’d expected. Maybe she should’ve stuck with the guys. At least then she would’ve been spared this discussion. “We’re not banging.”
“Right.”
“We’re not. At all.” Molly tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment at that fact. “There’s no banging. There isn’t even any kissing and hardly any cuddling.”
Norah’s attention, which had drifted toward the SIM card again, snapped back to Molly. “But there’s some cuddling?”
“Minor cuddling. Extremely minor cuddling.”
Norah studied her face. “You sound disappointed. Do you want there to be more cuddling?”
“No.” That felt like a lie. “Maybe. How can I tell when we keep getting almost blown up all the time?” Her brain was spinning again, this time with her very confused feelings about a certain rival bounty hunter. She flopped down next to Norah, forced to curl around her sister in order to fit on the narrow bed. “Let’s stop talking about that. How do you manage to sleep when Warrant’s on the bed? This is so tiny.”
“Just used to it, I guess,” Norah said absently, already immersed in her project again. “I’m a deep sleeper, so that helps.” After a pause, she lifted her head and looked around her small room. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Still with his crush.” At Norah’s confused look, Molly clarified, “Carmondy. Warrant’s in looove. I suspect that there were sneaky, secret bacon treats involved, but I don’t have any evidence.”
Norah smiled as she turned back to her work. “Guess it’s going around.”
“What is?”
“John Carmondy love.”
“Staaahhp.” Molly covered her eyes with her hands. “My poor brain can’t take any more. Can we talk about something else? Anything else? Like…if fairies exist, or whether fudgy brownies or cake brownies taste better, or the best ways to destroy the patriarchy, or something besides John Carmondy and his stupidly adorable dimples? Please?”
“Sure.” Several seconds of silence passed before Norah spoke again. “I like blond brownies.”
Molly smiled as her eyes closed. “Me too.”
“And education is the basis of all societal change.”
“Mmm-hmm…” Her sleepless nights were catching up with her. Her eyes refused to open. “I’m taking it that we’re not discussing fairies, then?”
“Gross.”
“What’s gross?” Molly blinked at her sister sleepily. “Fairies?”
“They creep me out. If they do exist, I don’t want to know about it. I’d never sleep again.”
Molly’s eyes drifted closed again, even as she snorted. “You’re so weird.”
“Right back at you.”
* * *
A jab to the ribs woke Molly. She sat up, confused by the location and the daylight that filled the room, her mind still half-asleep but her body on full alert. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Get up and grab John so I only have to go through this once,” Norah said, closing her laptop with a click.
Everything about Sonny Zarver and Jane settled back into Molly’s brain, and she got to her feet, yawning and wishing she could have another hour—or day—to sleep. A glance at her cell phone showed that she’d been napping for almost two hours. That’d have to be enough for now. “I’m up. Did you find the address for the meet-up tonight?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Molly repeated. “Likely maybe or doubtful maybe?”
Instead of answering, Norah fixed her with a stern look. It would’ve been scarier if she hadn’t been wearing a shirt with You are dumb written in binary code. “Get John first. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Fine,” Molly agreed through another yawn as she headed for the door. When she couldn’t hear any other voices, she wondered if Desmond had finished and John had taken off. She couldn’t blame him, since he’d been neck-deep in her crazy, dangerous family drama ever since Jane had contacted him. He had to be behind on his own life stuff.
Pushing away the wave of irrational and unwanted disappointment, she tromped down the stairs, heading for the kitchen to get some water.
“Good nap?”
She hid her startle at the unexpected question, turning toward where John sat at the dining room table, Warrant’s snoozing head on his foot. “Short,” she answered belatedly, taking in the sight in front of her. She had to admit that having John around made the house feel even safer and cozier than it normally did, which was impressive considering the excessive number of people who’d been breaking in recently. Her gaze fell to where Warrant was sprawled under the table. “How’d you manage to win the dog over so fast?” Without pausing, she guessed, “It was bacon, wasn’t it?”
John’s smile started slowly, curling up the corners and denting his cheeks until he was grinning broadly, making her heart beat abnormally fast. What John Carmondy did to her nervous system couldn’t be healthy. “No bacon. We just bonded. I think he’s happy to have another guy around.”
She made a humph sound. “The five of us spoil that dog like crazy. You should be so lucky to be surrounded by beautiful women who feed you treats, rub your belly, let you kick them off their beds, and tell you that you’re the most wonderful being in the universe.”
As she’d been speaking, his gaze had heated to a simmering smolder. “He is a lucky dog, although five women would be too much for me. Just one feeding me and petting my belly is plenty.” The way his eyes raked over her made her wonder, just for a moment, if he was fantasizing about her being that woman. She could feel the heat burning her from the inside out, and she knew that if they continued this line of conversation, she would probably spontaneously combust.
“Uh…right. Okay. So…Norah has info for us that she’s refusing to share until we’re both there to listen.” When her heart settled down enough that the roaring in her ears disappeared, she noticed that he had a notepad in front of him. “Did you have something for us, too?”
He grimaced, picking up the notepad and tilting it side to side, as if the paper itself was shrugging. “Nothing concrete. I’m just putting my thoughts down and hoping that something’ll jump at me… Useless so far.” Dropping the pad onto the table with a slap, he stood. “Let’s see what Norah’s found.”
As Molly led the way upstairs, feeling twitchy with the knowledge that her butt was right at his eye level, she asked, “Did Desmond finish up? Or is he still lurking around here somewhere?”
With a laugh, John caught up to her, so he was right behind her. Because he was so much taller than she was, he still managed to loom over her, even though he was a whole step down. “He’s done. I’ll take you and Norah on a tour of the system, and then she can tell us what she knows.”
Stopping on the top step, Molly turned abruptly. It was only when she came eyes-to-neck with John that she realized what an awkward situation she’d just created. If she tilted her head up, she’d be in the ideal position for a kiss, and that knowledge completely scoured her brain clear of what she’d been about to say. It might’ve been her imagination, but it seemed as if heat was radiating off him, warming her muscles and bones until she was about to melt into a puddle of goo at his feet.
Frantically, her eyes fixed firmly on the divot at the base of his throat, she rewound their earlier conversation until she remembered what had been so urgent that she needed to tell him right this second. “Thank you.” Her voice came out sounding husky, and her gaze darted to his eyes automatically, just in time to see his pupils react. Clearing her throat, she tore her gaze away, this time focusing on a spot just below the collar of his T-shirt, right where the seam was starting to pull apart. Crazily, that tiny hole made her feel protective of him. She felt a sudden need to wrap him up in soft blankets and tuck him away somewhere safe, somewhere he wouldn’t get blown up or punched in that too-pretty face of his or shot or—
“For what?” The question ripped her attention away from the small tear in his T-shirt and her thoughts off the weird and unsettling path they’d traveled down.
“What?”
The creases in his cheeks were back. “Why are you thanking me? I mean, I know that I’m an all-around thankable person, but if there’s a specific reason why you wanted to tell me what a magnificent specimen of perfection I am, then please share.”
Suddenly, Molly regained her ability to think…and to roll her eyes. “You know, you’d be so pretty if you just stayed quiet, but no… You have to open your mouth and ruin the picture.” As soon as the words were out, she felt a little guilty, even though he looked extremely—and aggravatingly—amused. “Sorry. That was probably rude. I was thanking you for arranging things with Desmond. I really appreciate having a security system, and I’ll pay you back with interest as soon as possible.”
“Never apologize, Molls. Your rudeness is one of my favorite parts of you. And you’re welcome. Now let’s get Norah, and I’ll show you how this alarm works.” He stepped past her, his body just barely brushing against hers, and walked toward Norah’s bedroom door. Molly blinked, confused about why he liked it when she gave him a hard time and weak-kneed from the full-body contact.
With an almost silent growl, she shook off all her conflicting emotions and stalked after him toward Norah’s room. She’d figure out her feelings later. Right now, they had a brand-new security system to learn and a bail jumper to catch.
* * *
“Okay, so you think it’s going to be at the Denver address Sonny had in the notes on his phone?” Molly asked once John had shown them how the security system worked and then Norah had given them the rundown on what she’d found. There’d been a disappointing lack of information that she’d been able to retrieve. It seemed that Sonny had used the phone for calls to another burner phone—the mystery caller who’d talked to John earlier—and not much else, except for the random address on a note-taking app.
“Like I said, it’s a possibility.” Norah tapped her laptop keys a little harder than necessary in obvious frustration. “It’s a vacant building in a commercial area that’s been on the market for over a year. Seems like a handy place to have a meeting of supervillains. At eleven at night, there won’t be many people around to see whatever goes down.”
Molly yanked on a strand of hair hard enough to sting. “Why do things always have to be hard? Why couldn’t Sonny have put the location on the calendar app?”
“He could’ve at least put up a meeting agenda,” John said. Despite his joking words, his fingers were careful as he extricated her hair from her grip and gently tucked the strand behind her ear. Once again, Molly didn’t know whether to poke him or thank him for being sweet.
Flapping her hands in an effort to clear her thoughts, she asked, “Wait. What was the address that you found in Tick’s room? Do they match?”
“No,” John said, even before he pulled out the crumpled bit of paper to check. “It’s a Langston address.” He held it out so she could see, and her shoulders collapsed forward in defeat.
No. Not defeat. We have two excellent leads. “Okay.” She sat up as straight as possible while being perched on the edge of Norah’s bed between her sister and John. “This is easy. Two possible addresses, and there are two of us.”
“Three, actually,” Norah said dryly. “Did you know that five out of four people find math to be hard?”
Since that didn’t deserve a laugh, she just gave Norah an exasperated look. John, on the other hand, snickered, which would only encourage her. “You’re research,” Molly said firmly. “You stay in the van.”
“What van?” Norah and John chorused, making Molly sigh.
“The figurative van.” Molly pushed to her feet. “We need you here, not bumbling around with the two of us, trying to get ourselves blown up.”
“Hey!” John protested, getting up as well. “I’m not bumbling. I’m a sleek, efficient machine.”
“Right.” Molly used her driest voice and felt a surge of triumph when he narrowed his eyes at her. “Anyway, Norah, you keep working. Carmondy, let’s go check these two places out. We should have enough time before the meeting.”
“Let’s go bumble around, then,” he said.
She turned to Norah. “Text if you need anything. My phone’ll be on silent.”
“Got it.” Norah had already dived back into her research.
“Let’s start at my house,” John said as they made their way to the door. “I need to reload my pockets.”
The mention reminded her that she needed to stock up on a few things as well. “Good idea. I’m going to make a stop at my room, too.” She turned down the hall in that direction. John followed her into her bedroom as he pulled out his notepad.
“Really?” she asked, her hands settling on her hips. “Do you actually need to be in here, or are you just following me around like a hungry stray?”
“It’s my bedroom now, too.” His voice was absent as he flicked over to the next page.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” He pointed at her bed. “That’s where I sleep.”
“Slept. Once. That doesn’t give you room rights.”
“I have an open invitation to stay here whenever I want to. Therefore, I have a stake in it. Like a time-share.”
Although she opened her mouth to argue, all that came out was a frustrated sound. Muttering to herself, she gathered the items she needed, tucking them in various easy-to-reach pockets. “You’re the most aggravating person I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes rolled yet again. She was going to have permanently strained eye muscles if she continued to hang around John. Patting her pockets, she went over a mental list of tools and weapons, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Are you hungry? We need to eat before tonight’s…thing.” She hated her hesitation, her lack of certainty, but the whole mission was a huge question mark. They didn’t know what they’d be walking into…if anything. The two of them could be heading to completely wrong locations. She didn’t like this, functioning without a plan. It made her itchy in a bad way.
“We can grab sandwiches at my house,” he said.
“Sounds good to me.” After one final glance around her room—or their room, according to John—and one last pat of her pockets, she was ready. “Let’s go.”
“You sure you have everything?” he asked, and she started another mental checklist, her paranoia kicking in at his suggestion. His dimples were showing, though, and that tipped her off to the tease. “What about a bazooka? Maybe a few anti-aircraft missiles?”
“Let’s go,” she growled, and his earnest expression cracked as he laughed. “You’re one to talk! You have more things in your pockets than I do—and more pockets.” He waved her ahead of him, and she headed for the stairs. “Besides, I don’t use guns of any kind.” Reconsidering that statement, she raised her arms in the air, elbows bent, and made her not-that-impressive biceps pop. “Except for these babies.”
He gave a burst of laughter behind her. “Why not? Seems like that’d be a good equalizer when you’re tiny and your skip is huge and armed and has some buddies.”
Since he’d sounded honestly curious, she decided to answer him seriously, rather than give him the brush-off she typically offered people who asked that question. “Because if I bring a gun to a knife fight, it suddenly turns into a gunfight. You’re right that I’m not a monster-truck-sized person like you”—she ignored his amused choke—“so I use that, take people by surprise, have a plan. If all goes well, there won’t be time for them to draw their gun, and everyone goes home safe that night. Well”—she had to pause—“the skip doesn’t go home, but they’re safe, at least.”
“Huh.” John didn’t sound convinced, although he did seem to be chewing over what she’d just said. “Do you mind if I’m armed?”
She checked in with herself, probing at the idea like it was a potential bruise. There was no lingering ache, though, no tenderness at the thought of him carrying a gun. “That’s fine. I’d rather you do what you need to make yourself safe. We’re both still learning each other’s methods. For example, you go blasting in somewhere without a plan, and I’m more thoughtful and smart and successful.”
His loud boom of laughter made her smile, but she kept her face forward so he couldn’t see how he affected her. As they crossed the living room toward the door, Warrant came running over, straight to John. Molly frowned as she watched her turncoat dog cuddle up to the guy he barely knew. John stroked Warrant’s head and massaged his ears as Molly watched, not sure if she was jealous of the man or the dog.
“Seriously, you need to confess. How’d you turn Warrant into your canine love slave?” she asked.
John looked smug as he dropped a kiss onto the top of the dog’s furry head and then straightened. “I’ll never tell. That’s between me and Warrant.” He winked at the dog, and it was sweeter and less weird than it really should’ve been.
“Bye, Warrant.” Feeling miffed, she bent and ruffled the dog’s ears. Releasing a happy huff of air at the attention, he flipped over onto his back. His ecstatic reaction made her feel a little better, and she gave his upturned belly a few final scratches before straightening. Setting the alarm, she headed out the door.
The neighborhood was quiet, warm sunlight streaming through the tree branches and mottling the yards. Molly still had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, however, no matter how idyllic it seemed. There could be that enemy army waiting just inside the cover of the national forest, biding their time until she looked away to charge.
“What is it?” John must’ve sensed her tension, since his voice lowered and his head turned on a swivel, trying to find the threat.
“My wild imagination,” she said wryly, although she didn’t lower her guard, just in case. “All the burglars and lurking cars have made me jumpy.”
“Understandable,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her. “A lot has happened.”
As she climbed in, she almost laughed at his understatement. “Yeah. It’s been crazy.” She waited for him to close her door and circle the car before she asked, “Why are you sticking around?”
“Warrant,” he said, looking completely serious. “He’d pine for me.”
She actually fell for it, staring at him wide-eyed for a long moment before the joke clicked in her head and she smacked him on the arm. It was hard to refrain from shaking out the sting in her fingers. The man must’ve been made of iron.
“You’re an idiot,” she said, although she couldn’t bring herself to put any real heat into it. She knew that she was the idiot. If John Carmondy did rediscover his sense of self-preservation and bailed on them, her dog wouldn’t be the only one pining. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew that she’d miss him, too.