by Katie Ruggle
“No.” Molly put as much force behind the word as she could. “You’ve already put off school too long, thanks to Mom taking your tuition money and you helping get the business going. You’re not dropping out. Mom’s not taking anything else away from us, not if I can help it.”
From the way Warrant slunk under the table and Cara’s eyes went wide, Molly realized that she must’ve looked and sounded rather ferocious. She took a breath to try to get her heart to stop pounding so hard.
“I mean it, Cara.” Although her voice was calmer, it was no less resolute, and she could see that her other sisters agreed with her. “No more delays. You just have three semesters left and then student teaching. If you get off track now because of Mom’s nonsense, you might never finish.”
“Molly’s right,” Charlie said as Felicity and Norah nodded in agreement. “You need to stick this out. Otherwise, you’re going to be eighty and still working as a bounty hunter and hating it just as much then as you do now.”
“I don’t hate it.” Despite her words, Cara’s tone was half-hearted, and Molly raised an eyebrow at her.
“You so hate it.”
“As long as I don’t have to tackle anyone, or get spit on, or sworn at, or hit on, or talk to mean people, then it’s fine.”
Charlie snorted a laugh. “That’s pretty much my usual day.”
“I like the research part,” Cara protested, even though she was halfway to laughing as well. “Especially if it’s just on the internet. Especially if it’s internet research while I’m sitting on the patio at the coffee shop, drinking a cappuccino with Warrant sleeping under the table.” Warrant shifted at the sound of his name before resettling flat on his side.
Norah gave a small smile. “That’s my favorite part, too.”
“Okay.” Molly blew up her cheeks like a balloon and let her breath out with an audible puff. When John made an amused sound, she inwardly cringed at how goofily unattractive the face she’d just made must’ve looked, and then she immediately scolded herself for worrying whether John found her attractive when their world was currently imploding. “Now that we know that Cara’s staying in school and everyone has their assignments, let’s get to work.”
Norah tentatively raised her hand.
Blinking at her sister, Molly resisted the urge to say something sarcastic and just said, “Yes?” instead.
“What about the jobs we were already working on before the…Mom thing happened?”
Molly grimaced. “Try to stay on them as much as possible, but finding Mom and getting her back here in time for her hearing are paramount. Sorry. It’s going to be really busy and will almost definitely suck for a while, but we’ll get through this.”
Her sisters made unenthusiastic grumbles of agreement—although whether they agreed that they’d get through it or that things would suck was unclear—and Molly stood, her gaze finding John. He’d been quiet and stoic through most of the meeting, and his serious manner set her off-balance. She was used to a joking and devilishly teasing John, not this giant, somber statue leaning against her dining room wall.
“Ready for this?” she asked him.
His mouth twitched at the corner, just a tiny movement but enough to make him seem more like the John Carmondy she knew. “If I say no, will that change anything?”
“Not really.”
“I figured.” This time, his smile was more of a grimace. “Let’s go find Zarver, then.”
Chapter 10
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 f
or 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 h
is 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.”