by Katie Ruggle
“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.”
Chapter 13
“Pax. Pax, wake up.”
She tried burrowing deeper into her pillow, tugging her covers up around her ears in a futile attempt to block the voice invading her dreams. Unfortunately, John didn’t stop. “Pax, get up!”
She groaned into her pillow. It was still dark, for Pete’s sake. Was this her punishment for being a bad person? Was karma going to send him to her every morning to rudely wake her at an ungodly hour until she’d made amends for whatever horrible thing she’d done? What could her sin have been to be bad enough to call for this miserable a penance?
“Someone’s trying to break in,” John whispered.
All traces of her lingering sleepy haze immediately evaporated. She was out of bed in an instant, moving so quickly that she almost crashed into John. Turning, she pulled a Taser out of the nightstand. As she bent to grab the weapon, she heard John make an indistinct sound, but his expression was bland by the time she’d straightened and turned to face him.
“Let’s go,” she said, ignoring his weirdness for now. There’d be time enough to try to solve the puzzle that was John Carmondy when they didn’t have a burglar at their door. Without waiting for a response, she charged for the hallway.
John followed her, but when they reached the top of the stairs, he moved in front of her. Making a barely audible sound of protest, she poked him in the back. He ignored it and moved silently down the stairs. Although she could see the readiness in his movements, his hands were by his sides, empty of any kind of weapon, and she frowned, wishing she’d grabbed the second Taser. Tapping his hand lightly, she offered him the one she did have. Giving it a surprised glance, he waved it off with a smile of thanks. She withdrew, determined to do her best to save the crazy, unprepared man from any danger.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he slipped through the living room, a silent shadow. She was amazed again how agile and coordinated he was for such a big man. Molly was pretty sure she was klutzier than he was, and she was half his size. As he made his way toward the front door, she realized that she was following behind him like a scared kid, rather than acting like the badass she was—a badass with a Taser, at that. Rolling her eyes at herself, she peeled off, heading for the kitchen.
Before she managed to get a few steps away from John, he caught her wrist, tugging her gently back into place behind him. Knowing that she couldn’t win a tug-of-war between them, she acquiesced…at least until he released her and refocused in front of him. As soon as her wrist was free, she slipped away, moving quickly, expecting and dodging his grab for her. Ignoring his low growl of annoyance, she headed for the kitchen, planning the lecture she was going to give him when they didn’t have to be quiet anymore.
In the kitchen, shadows draped over the familiar room, turning the innocent appliances and counters into menacing shapes. Attempting to ignore the unease creeping into her mind, she briskly moved past the threshold, telling herself she was being ridiculous. There was no reason to be scared of her own kitchen.
As she passed the pantry, the door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang that made her jump into the air like a startled cat. A shadow detached itself from the darkness of the small room and lunged for her. Her arm started to rise so that she could deploy the Taser, but it was too late. The attacker was already on her.
Strong arms wrapped around her as they both toppled to the floor. Molly hit first with a grunt, the Taser flying out of her grip. The weight of the burglar knocked the air out of her lungs, preventing her from calling out to John. She could only hope that he heard them struggling. After a split second of shock, she started to fight.
With the heavy form on her, her range of motion was limited, but she managed to get her right arm free. Craning her neck, she tried to make out who was on top of her, but all she could see was the bulky chest and jowly neck of the man who had her pinned. Making a fist, she punched him in the upper chest.
With her target so close, the hit was weak and off-center, but it did its job. The intruder reared back, lifting off enough for her to take aim at his throat. That punch was strong enough to make him choke. Grabbing his injured neck with both hands, he rolled to the side and wheezed for air.
Scrambling to her feet, Molly backed up several steps so she wasn’t within reach. Her foot hit something, sending it sliding across the floor. A quick glance showed that it was her Taser, and she grabbed it, pointing it toward the intruder just as John charged into the kitchen, dragging a cuffed man behind him.
“Hit the lights, would you?” Although Molly strove for a conversational tone, her breath was still coming in short gasps.
John obliged, flicking the switch to turn on the overhead fixture. The brightness made Molly blink rapidly until her eyes adjusted. As soon as they did, she recognized the man lying on the floor, still clutching his throat.
“Sanders, you opportunistic slug.” She resisted the urge to kick him, mostly because she knew it would hurt her bare foot more. “What do you think you’re doing?” Even as she asked, she k
new exactly what he was doing.
“Not doing anything.” Sanders’s voice was hoarse, and Molly could not find it in her to be at all sorry she’d punched him in the throat. “Jane told us to stop by whenever we want.”
“An open invitation,” the cuffed man John had a grip on added.
Molly eyed him. “Of course. Eddie Cord. Why am I not surprised to see you following Sanders around like a fuzzy little duckling?”
Cord narrowed his eyes at her, but his glare was just about as scary as the aforementioned baby duck. “I don’t follow him around. We’re partners.”
“Partners in what? Dumbassery?” John asked.
Molly grinned at him, raising her hand not holding the Taser in the air. “Nice one.”
Although he wasn’t in reaching distance, he gave her an air high-five. “Thanks.”
Ignoring the warm feeling that hummed through her, she lowered her hand and focused on the intruders. “This is not Jane’s house anymore, so consider that ‘open invitation’ revoked.”
Sanders’s lips drew back in a sneer. “Can’t just say it’s your house and make it so. I’m going to have to hear it straight from Jane.”
Cord sniggered, and Molly fought the urge to tase them both. “Nope. It’s my house because it is. The cops will agree with me.” She’d expected that the mention of the police would make Sanders and Cord fall into line, but they just exchanged a smirk. She had the random thought that John was the only person who could make that expression look good.
“Not what I heard,” Sanders said mockingly. “I heard they let the last guy who broke in walk.”
Stuart. The name was a growl in her head. Molly wished the blabby weasel was here, so that she could tase him, too. She mentally added punching Stuart in his smug, burglarizing face onto her mental bucket list.
“You should be less concerned with what the cops did then,” John said, his bass voice rumbling a warning, “and more concerned about what we’re going to do now.”
The two intruders stopped smirking as fear flashed in their eyes.
Molly was perfectly happy to play bad cop and badder cop with John. “That’s better. Now tell us what you’re doing here.”
“Told you,” Sanders muttered, his gaze darting away from her. “Jane asked us to pick up something.”
“Yeah.” Cord jumped in, nodding in such an exaggerated way that he looked like a bobblehead doll. “Jane asked us to come here and get…something.”
Meeting John’s exasperated gaze, Molly made a Can you believe these guys? face. Although his snort was amused, she noticed that John didn’t loosen his grip on Cord. Her gaze fell to the smaller man’s wrists, and she frowned, wondering where John had gotten the handcuffs. She glanced at his bare torso and down to the pants he must’ve yanked on in a hurry. Like hers, they had bunches of pockets. Shifting her gaze to meet his eyes, not allowing herself to linger on an expanse of brown, bare, obnoxiously beautiful chest on the way, she raised her eyebrows.
“You just happened to have cuffs on you?”
The corners of his mouth tucked in as he held back a smile, his dimple revealing his true amusement. “Never leave home without them.”
“Always prepared, Boy Scout?”
“Always.”
“If you two are going to flirt, can we leave?” Sanders asked, bringing Molly’s attention back to him. He’d propped himself up on his elbows, and she knew she either had to cuff him or let him go soon. Letting him sit unrestrained on the floor was just asking for trouble.
“Once you tell us why you’re really here,” she said crisply, “you’ll be able to leave. So spill.”
Sanders clamped his lips together, pretending to zip them in a dramatic gesture. She allowed her smirk to emerge, looking away from Sanders in a dismissive gesture that meant she didn’t need him, not when Cord was just dying to give away the entire game.
Letting her smile widen, she focused on the cuffed man. “So, Eddie… Jane must trust you a lot to give you a key to the house.”
“Key?” The blank look he gave her spoke volumes. “What key? We don’t have a key.”
She put on her best confused expression. “How’d you get in, then?”
“Picked the lo—”
“Okay!” Sanders’s roar drowned out Cord’s confession. “I want to call my lawyer.”
Meeting John’s eyes, Molly burst into laughter. “Your lawyer? I don’t think so.” She sobered abruptly and put her face right in Sanders’s, forcing away the thought that she was close enough for him to grab. “You’re going to wish you were with the cops by the time we finish with you.”
He flinched, and she barely kept herself from giving a triumphant grin. She knew she was not traditionally intimidating, but it was nice that she could hold the illusion for a while. Despite her glee, she did shift back out of reach, just in case. Giving Sanders her most ferocious glare, she turned back to Cord.
“Why’d you break in, Eddie?” she demanded, her words coming out as harshly as she could manage. “What’s so valuable in here that you’d risk serving time?” She waved a hand at the contents of her kitchen with real bewilderment. As beloved as everything was to her and her sisters, there was no point in stealing what was worthless junk to anyone else.
“The neckla—”
“Eddie!” Sanders howled. Molly was tempted to gag him, or maybe kick him in the teeth so he’d be quiet for a few seconds.
“The necklace that Jane stole?” she asked Cord, ignoring his sputtering business partner. “Why would you think it was here?”
“That’s where Zach Fridley said he put it.”
Zach Fridley? It made all sorts of creepy sense. This was why the weasel Stuart had tried to break in, and why Cord and Sanders were currently in her kitchen. Zach was Jane’s oldest and most loyal friend—and the one she got into the most trouble with. He’d do anything for her, including breaking into her house and hiding a priceless stolen necklace…and then blabbing about it.
This explained their recent rash of attempted break-ins…and meant that more would be coming—a lot more.
Swallowing a groan, she flicked a look at John. Judging by his grim expression, he’d come to the same conclusion. Keeping a firm grip on Cord with one hand, John waved at Sanders where he was still sprawled on the floor.
“Let’s go,” John said, and Molly’s gaze turned startled. Why was he kicking them out when she hadn’t finished the interrogation? Even though she’d mostly decided not to file a police report, the least John could’ve done was to check with her before he started tossing burglars out on the street willy-nilly.
“Hang on,” she said in her best commanding voice, the one that made all her sisters freeze in place. It worked just as well on the two intruders. Even John gave her his attention. “Have you talked to Jane since she was arrested?”
The two men glanced at each other before Sanders answered. “No.”
Despite the way he held her gaze, she wasn’t sure if she believed him. Figuring that she wouldn’t be able to glare the truth out of him, she flicked her fingers at him in a let’s go motion. As soon as he stood, she said, “Turn around, hands up against the wall, legs spread.”
“Seriously?” he complained, but she just lifted her Taser a little higher. He must’ve been able to read how delighted she would be to send a painful amount of electricity through him, because he turned and flattened his hands on the wall. Once he was in position, she tucked the Taser into the waistband of her sleep shorts and patted him down.
Once everything from his pockets was piled on the counter—including her new bank card, to her great annoyance—she shifted back slightly. “Put your right arm behind your back.”
Grumbling, he obeyed, and she grabbed his thumb, using it to crank his arm up toward his shoulder blades. “Ready?” she asked John, who’d been searching Cord.
He nodded and gestured with the hand not holding on to his captive. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you, Carmondy.” She left the kitchen, shoving Sanders in front of her. “He’s so polite. There just aren’t that many people with manners left, are there?” When Sanders didn’t respond, she cranked his arm even higher, making him yelp and go up on his tiptoes to relieve the pressure. “Are there?”
“I don’t know,” he said sulkily, and she gave his thumb an extra twist, making him swear. “Stop it! No, no one has manners anymore! Happy?”
“Not really.” She did ease off on his arm, however. “I’d be happy to be sleeping right now, not escorting your sorry ass out of my house…the house that you just broke into.”
He grumbled under his breath as she yanked open the door and shoved him onto the porch. The screen door swung shut behind them, and John timed it just right so that it smacked Cord in the face. Molly gave John an approving nod, making him grin back at her.
As she escorted Sanders across the lawn, she saw an SUV parked in front of Mr. P’s house, and she felt a hint of evil glee rise inside her. “Is that yours?” she asked. At Sanders’s affirmative grunt, she turned her head slightly to aim her next question at John. “Any chance you have a pointy tool of some sort in one of your pockets?”
“I do.” He surged ahead of her, pushing Cord to move more quickly toward the SUV. When they reached it, John pulled what appeared to be a multi-tool out of his pocket. Before either Cord or Sanders could protest, John punctured the front left tire before striding toward the rear.
“What?” Sanders caught on too late as air hissed noisily out of the second punctured tire. “Stop! I’m going to kick your—” He lunged forward, but Molly kept hold of his thumb, giving it an extra upward yank to remind him that he was still restrained. “Ow! Bitch, let me go!”
“No, bitch.” Her tone was mild, considering her lack of sleep and the events of the night, but she’d found John’s slashing all four of the getaway vehicle’s tires very cathartic. Raising her voice slightly, she said to John, “That was very nice. Thank you.”