by Janie Crouch
Derek wasn’t looking forward to that. Especially not now, with nothing to show.
Derek’s only hope now was that Molly, with all her magic in her lab, could salvage something out of this mess. Molly had saved Derek before. He prayed she could do it again.
Chapter Two
Molly Humphries caught a look at her shoes as she carried an armful of case files across the lab to her desk. How she hated her sensible shoes. They were flat, unimaginative and...well, just sensible. Plain and brown.
That her shoes were a symbolic reflection of her personal life was not lost on Molly.
She had no idea why the shoes were offending her so much on this particular day, when she’d been wearing them every day for over six months. They’d faithfully seen her through long weeks at the lab where she’d sometimes put in sixty or seventy hours a week. Her shoes got the job done, gave her no cause for complaints and never drew attention to themselves for the wrong reasons.
Oh man, the metaphors just kept coming, didn’t they?
She should be thankful for her shoes now, for their comfort and sensibleness, since she’d already been on her feet for ten hours, and the day wasn’t close to over. Molly loved her job as director of Omega Critical Response Division’s main forensic lab here in Colorado Springs. Her work was challenging and fulfilling. Molly excelled at it, both as one of the leading pathologists in the country and as supervisor of the dozen people who worked daily in the lab.
Molly stopped and added another case file to the pile she was carrying. Not that they couldn’t use twice as many technicians working here. That’s how much material was constantly brought in for them to process. The forensic lab handled just about everything having to do with evidence: toxicology, trace reports, forensic biology, pathology, prints, DNA and even human remains for all the Critical Response Division cases. Therefore the lab was in a constant state of backup. Hiring more technicians was on Molly’s to-do list, but the qualifications and security clearance required to work at Omega made the candidate pool slim.
So for right now Molly planned to continue working twelve-to fourteen-hour days to help keep the lab producing results at the speed they were needed. Like today. She’d arrived at seven o’clock this morning and was still here even though it was nearly eight in the evening. She definitely needed to cut her sensible shoes a break.
The other lab technicians had left a couple of hours ago, but being here by herself wasn’t unusual or even unpleasant. Molly didn’t expect her lab technicians to put in the same crazy hours she did. Often some of them were willing to stay late or come early if Molly asked, but she tried not to impose unless it was an emergency. These people had family. Molly didn’t, so it was easier for her to stay. Nobody was going to miss her at home.
Molly got along well with all the people who worked in her lab. She treated them with the respect they deserved and, in turn, they worked hard. The key was direct, clear, respectful communication. Molly prided herself that she was not only good at the science part of her job, she was good at the communication aspect with her colleagues, as well.
Derek Waterman walked through the swinging double doors of the inner lab.
Well, maybe not all her colleagues.
Molly turned away quickly and placed the files on her desk. She put them right smack in the middle so she wouldn’t accidentally knock them over. Molly had been known to do stupid things like that while in the presence of Derek.
Jon Hatton and Liam Goetz were with Derek and none of them looked too happy. Molly could smell smoke on them from across the lab, coming from them. Derek had been in a fire.
“Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” Molly rushed across the room, her long French-braided brown hair swinging over the shoulder of the white lab coat she always wore. These were three of the most intelligent and able-bodied men she’d ever known, but as active Omega agents they put their lives on the line daily.
“We’re fine, sweet Molly,” Jon said to her as she stopped a few feet away from them. “Unless you count your boy Derek here almost being trapped in a burning building as not okay.”
Molly felt the air rush out of her lungs. She looked over at Derek for just a moment, needing to take in with her own eyes that he wasn’t, indeed, seriously injured. His dark brown, almost-black hair had the tousled, disheveled look it always did, the five-o’clock shadow a permanent fixture on his chiseled face. He was leaning against one of the research tables, his long legs extended in front of him. She couldn’t see any signs of pain based on his body language or facial expressions. Just a slight stiffness in how he held his back.
Molly knew Derek well enough to know that meant he’d been hurt.
“Did you burn your sh-shoulders?” she asked him, the words barely coming out in a whisper. Molly pressed her lips together and looked down at her shoes. She heard Liam snicker quietly before Jon nudged him.
“Yes, but I’m okay. Very minor first-degree burns on my shoulders and back,” Derek responded. “No real harm.”
Molly just nodded, relieved the burns weren’t serious, although she could tell he had also suffered, at least to some small degree, from smoke inhalation. Derek’s sexy voice was even deeper and more gravelly than usual, and although she hated the cause, Molly couldn’t help but shiver slightly at the rougher sound of it.
Of course, then she felt like a fool, as she always did when Derek was around, for the way she was acting. Molly turned to a desk behind her and pretended to sort through files. She didn’t blame Jon and Liam for snickering. Her behavior every time Derek entered the room was snicker-worthy.
“We’ve got some evidence from a lead we followed dealing with the Chicago bombing,” Liam said as he began unpacking various evidence bags and laying them out on the table.
Molly walked back around to the table so she was on the far side, careful not to look at Derek in any way, not even out of the corner of her eye. It seemed as if they had about a dozen items that needed processing.
“We need a complete work up on all of it,” Jon told her. “DNA, fingerprints, any possible trace evidence. Everything.”
Molly picked up one of the bags containing some sort of piece of computer hardware inside. “Was this evidence from the burning building?”
“Not all of it,” Derek answered her, causing Molly to study the contents of the bag more carefully so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Some of it is from what was left of a suspect before he killed himself. But the rest is from the burnt building.”
“Is the body coming in here, too? Will I need to process that?” She looked at Liam and Jon as she said it.
Liam shook his head. “Yes, but not until later. Local coroner will be bringing it by. We brought prints and DNA so you could get started.”
“You know, the stuff from the fire will take longer. It will have to be manually run through the system, based on layers of damage. Probably have to use a clean room.” Molly put the bag back on the table. “Put it all over on the in-processing shelf. I’ll try to get somebody started on it in the morning, but it might be in the afternoon.”
Both Liam and Jon started talking at her immediately, voices raised, speaking all over each other. Derek, she noticed, didn’t say anything. Molly held up a hand and eventually the two men stopped talking at the same time.
“Molly, this is a priority,” Liam said. “It has to do with the Chicago bombing.”
“I understand, Liam, but—”
“The largest terrorist attack on American soil in over five years,” Jon continued. “We need the results on all of it right away.”
Molly glanced quickly at Derek. He was just standing there, arms crossed over his large chest. She looked away again, not knowing what she would do if he interjected into the argument. Molly understood the men’s frustration, she really did.
She looked over at the pile of
files and packages of evidence on her desk. The problem was, every case was this important to someone. Those packages might provide clues to missing children, or someone’s murder, or the identity of a serial rapist.
Everybody needed everything right away and that just wasn’t possible.
“You guys,” Molly looked at Jon and Liam, and even risked a glance at Derek. “I—I’m sorry. We’re backed up in here.”
“Molly.” Liam wouldn’t let it go. “We need all this now. It’s vital.”
Molly threw her arm out toward the files on her desk. “All those cases are vital to someone, too, Liam. And they’ve been waiting longer than you.”
Both Jon and Liam began their arguments again, but Molly tuned them out. She hated being in this position; hated having to tell them to wait. She knew the men weren’t making demands arbitrarily—what they needed was important. Brows furrowed, she looked down at the items on the table again, began trying to sort through them a little bit. Maybe if she stayed here all night she could get at least a couple of the pieces processed after she finished the cases sitting on her desk.
But which evidence pieces should she process first if she could only get to one or two tonight? In the midst of categorizing the evidence bags in her mind, and placing them in different groups on the table, Molly didn’t realize Liam and Jon had stopped pleading their case.
Or that Derek had come to stand right behind her as she sorted through the evidence bags. He reached over and took the bag out of her hand and laid it on the table, and picked up two others near it.
Startled, Molly spun around, then immediately regretted it as she found herself trapped between the evidence table and Derek’s hard body. Oh, dear lord. Was she supposed to be able to come up with actual words right now? Something coherent?
Derek took a small step backward, just enough so he could hold one of the evidence bags up between them.
“This one is most important,” he said softly, holding up a small bag with what looked like part of a phone or communication device. “Although I know it’s partially melted and will be difficult. The other is just the prints from the dead guy to run for ID. Should be simple. Both as soon as you can manage, Molly. But I know your other work here is also important.”
Molly just nodded.
Derek hooked a finger into the hip pocket of her lab coat. He took the two small evidence bags and dropped them in. But instead of letting her go as she expected, he placed both hands on her waist.
Molly pretty much forgot how to breathe.
“Thank you,” Derek said, his gravelly voice playing havoc with her insides. “I know this means more work for you, and I’m sorry.”
“It—it’s okay.”
“Did you eat dinner?”
“Um, today?”
Derek shook his head and sighed. “I want you to eat something, all right?” His hands tightened the slightest bit on her waist. “You’re too tiny as it is.”
“Wh-what?” Since when was Derek aware of her eating habits?
“And not the vending machine. A real, proper meal. Promise me you’ll go down to the cafeteria tonight and eat something if you’re working here a long time.”
Molly nodded.
“And not tomorrow morning. Tonight, okay? In the next couple of hours,” Derek asked again. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Molly forced the words to come out with no stammer.
Derek smiled, and for a second looked as if he was going to say something else, but then Liam and Jon began talking to each other as they repacked the other evidence to be placed on the in-processing shelf. Whatever Derek had been about to say in that moment was gone.
He dropped his hands from Molly’s waist and took a step back. “Thanks for processing that communication device tonight. I’m hoping it may be a key piece in the Chicago case.”
Without another word, Derek turned and walked out the lab doors. Jon and Liam said their goodbyes as they left, too. Molly finally began breathing normally again.
But as the doors closed, she heard it, although they obviously didn’t mean for her to: quiet laughter and the words Mousy Molly.
Molly stayed where she was against the evidence table as if glued there. It wasn’t Derek who called her mousy, it was never Derek. But it was everyone else. Molly didn’t think Jon and Liam meant any harm by the expression, but it was true. Molly was mousy in all its elements: nervous, shy, lacking in presence or charisma. Heck even her coloring was mousy: brown eyes, brown hair.
Okay, yeah, it hurt a little bit. Molly didn’t want to be mousy. And really most of the time she wasn’t that bad. It was just when she was around Derek that she became unbearable to herself.
Molly brought her hands down to her waist where Derek’s had been. Derek had actually touched her. That didn’t happen very often. Although they saw each other a few times a week, Derek was very careful not to touch her in even the most casual way.
He really hadn’t touched her at all since the time he showed up at her condo three years ago—drunk—and they’d had sex.
Molly still grimaced when she thought about it. He’d been inebriated, he’d needed a friend. She should’ve just made a pallet for him on her couch and let him sleep it off.
Instead of taking him to her bed and having the most wonderful night of her life.
Except Derek had been gone when she woke up the next morning. And he had never brought it up again, so she assumed he didn’t remember much about that night at all. But Molly did. She also remembered their embrace in the lab about a year ago... The only other time he’d touched her.
Molly sighed and pushed herself off the table. There was no way she was going to start thinking about this again. She had entirely too much work to do. She would put in a call to David, the newest young tech, and see if he was willing to make some extra money by coming back in and helping her with this processing.
There was a lot of important work to do and she planned to get it done. She might be Mousy Molly like the guys said, but there was one thing she knew how to do well: her job.
Chapter Three
Derek cringed when he heard Jon and Liam’s Mousy Molly comments as they followed him out the lab doors. How he hated that nickname. He knew the guys didn’t really mean any harm by it, neither Jon nor Liam would ever purposely be unkind to someone like Molly, but Derek still hated it.
“I think you probably could’ve pushed to get more of our evidence processed tonight,” Jon said with a little snicker as they walked down the hallway. “I don’t know why Liam and I even tried talking to her. We should’ve used you from the beginning.”
“It’s not like that, Jon.” Derek kept walking, hoping they’d just drop it. They had a meeting with Omega’s Critical Response Division Director Steve Drackett in five minutes, teleconference with state officials not long afterward.
Both men laughed. “Uh, it’s exactly like that. Of course, it’s always like that with Molly when it comes to you,” Liam told him.
Jon continued, “Yeah, if you had asked her to process all our evidence tonight I bet she would’ve done it. If she could’ve managed to get a sentence out.”
Liam stopped walking and, with a dramatic sigh, grabbed Jon by the waist and pushed him up against the hallway wall. Liam pulled out a pen and held it in front of Jon’s face.
Derek stopped to watch the show that was obviously for him.
“Just this one piece of evidence, Molly.” Liam deepened his voice to mimic Derek, wiggling the pen and keeping his other hand on Jon’s waist.
Jon’s falsetto was even more annoying, especially given he was three inches taller than Liam’s six-one. “B-but D-Derek, we’re s-so busy.”
If anything, Liam’s voice got even deeper. “Please, Molly. For me? Because I’m Derek Waterman and I’m the best agent in the world.�
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“For you D-Derek, anything.” Derek watched as his two coworkers embraced, then pulled apart, bowing.
Derek raised an eyebrow and just stared at them. “You morons done?”
He started walking down the hallway again.
“Oh, come on, Derek.” Jon caught up to him first. “We like Molly as much as anybody. Hell, everybody likes her, she’s so sweet and kind. But she gets so awkward around you, it’s pretty entertaining.”
“Obviously, she’s not your type,” Liam continued. “That’s cool.”
“What do you mean she’s not my type?” Derek knew he shouldn’t let himself get drawn into this conversation, but couldn’t help it.
Of course Liam was right, Molly wasn’t his type. Molly was sweet, kind, tender, gentle.
Everything Derek knew he should stay away from. Everything he knew he would destroy if he allowed himself near.
“I just mean you’re not interested or attracted or whatever. It’s obvious by the way I’ve never even seen you touch her before today.” Liam shrugged. “You don’t take advantage of her feelings, which is admirable.”
Yeah, Derek tried not to touch Molly, because every time he did it went further than he wanted. Like a few minutes ago. He’d touched her waist, and all he could think about was sitting her up on that table and kissing her until neither of them even remembered what the word evidence meant.
“Yeah, I wish someone would get that tongue-tied around me,” Jon said. “At least you got her to process the important evidence.”
“Molly works hard, you guys. She’s probably going to be here all night, doing what we asked plus all her other stuff. None of us will be working all night. So stow the comments.”
That shut them up. Good. Derek needed to drag his focus away from Molly Humphries and back onto this case since they were walking into the director’s office.
“Quite a mess today, gentlemen,” Steve Drackett, division director, said as he opened his office door and met them in the hallway. “Walk with me on the way to the teleconference room.”