by Katie Ruggle
John! her brain screamed, even as she knew it was too late to help him. The explosion had already sent her flying forward, weightless, from the force of the blast.
Chapter 12
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.