In Her Sights

by Katie Ruggle

  The car abruptly veered over and stopped by the curb.

  She looked over at John, startled by the sudden stop. “Forget something?”

  “Yeah.” He put the car into park and shoved open his door.

  “What?” He’d only been at her house one night. How much stuff could he have left there? She knew she would have to watch him, or he’d have half her drawers filled with his clothes before she could blink. He was already laying claim to her bedroom, after all. It was becoming more and more apparent that John Carmondy was a nester.

  “To check out the forest.” He started getting out of the car, but she grabbed a handful of his shirt to stop him.

  “You’re going into the forest? Why?”

  Glancing at her over his shoulder, he raised his eyebrows but didn’t try to escape her hold. “Because it’s bugging you. I can tell.”

  She relaxed her grip as she stared at him, touched that he’d not only noticed, but was doing something to make her feel better. Except for her sisters and her dad, no one had ever cared enough about her to bother doing either. It was hard to believe that John Carmondy, of all people, did. There had to be another reason. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re going to go wandering around in there.”

  “Sure it does.” Taking advantage of her loosened fingers, he stood and strode toward the trees. She blinked after him for a moment, the growing warmth in her chest feeling dangerously addicting, before she jumped out of the car and chased after him.

  When she fell in next to him, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Now it’s my turn to ask. Where are you going?”

  “With you.”

  “Why?” He gave an exaggerated flex, even as his dimple appeared. “Think I can’t handle the forest beasties?”

  “Forest beasties?” she repeated, unable to hold back her grin. When he just shrugged, unabashed, she turned to face the trees. Even though her unease about who could be lurking in there was still niggling at the back of her brain, more of her attention was focused on the man next to her. “You might be a big, bad wolf who’s able to handle whatever scary things lurk in the woods, but you still might need backup.” She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, but she refused to glance at him. If she did, then their eyes might meet, and who knew what would happen after that. “I have saved your bacon several times already.”

  “And I appreciate your concern for my bacon.” Despite his words, he sounded more serious than usual, and she had to fight the urge to look at him again. “I’ll be fine, though. I can handle a few wannabe jewelry thieves if they’re lurking in the trees. You don’t have to worry.”

  “We’re partners.” She stubbornly kept pace with him. “We have each other’s back. Bacon buddies, if you will.”

  He was silent for a beat too long, and temptation got the best of her. Turning her head, she caught an expression she’d never seen on his face before. It was surprised and affectionate and tender and smoldering and a lot of other things that made her skin feel prickly and her insides melty, so she quickly focused on the trees again. It was too late, though. She knew she’d be seeing—and overanalyzing—that expression every time she closed her eyes.

  “C’mon then, bacon buddy.” His voice had a softer edge than normal, and it made her shiver—and then immediately pretend that he hadn’t caused that reaction. It was no use, though. As much as she fought against it, as much as she told herself it was a terrible idea, she was starting to have feelings for John Carmondy.

  A twig snapped under her heel, reminding her why they were there. “This is probably a wild-goose chase,” she said, her voice carefully low despite her words, “but thank you for doing this anyway.”

  “You’re welcome, BB.” He winked at her, and Molly sighed to hide how much she wanted to laugh at his over-the-top flirting. They fell quiet as they walked just inside the tree line. Molly searched for signs that someone else had been there. All she could see were rocks, dry earth, and the first autumn leaves scattered over the ground.

  Being in the forest was just as bad as looking at it from the outside. Molly was hyperaware of everything around her—from John’s almost silent footsteps to the rustle of leaves and the quiet chatter of a distant squirrel. Every sound tightened her nerves, and even John’s reassuring presence wasn’t enough to keep her calm. Although she prided herself on being relatively fearless—or at least fear-resistant—something about the shifting shadows and hushed movements of the forest made her want to grab John and run for the safety of the car.

  “Is this a shoe print?” John’s voice made her jump, and she hid the movement by turning toward where he was crouched down, studying the ground in front of him. Her heart still beating a little faster than normal, Molly bent over his shoulder so that she could see the semicircle mark.

  She frowned, leaning closer. “Could be. There’s no tread pattern that I can see, though.”

  Making a hum that sounded like agreement, he shifted forward, still in a crouch, checking the ground for a possible trail. She did the same behind him, looking for any impressions in the dirt that could possibly be prints. After she’d fruitlessly covered twenty feet, she gave up and returned to John’s side.

  “I couldn’t find anything,” she said, and he held out his hands in an I’ve-got-nothing gesture.

  “Probably not a footprint, then,” he said. Despite his casual words, Molly noticed that John seemed even more alert than he normally was, and she felt a little less silly about her own jumpiness. Maybe it was just that there were too many hiding places in the underbrush, but she was relieved when they returned to the spot where they’d entered the woods.

  “Would this be considered a success that we didn’t find any evidence of lurkers, or a failure?” she asked as they made their way through the scrubby weeds that edged the forest.

  “Success,” he answered without hesitating. “We haven’t been shot, punched, or blown up.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “That’s your definition of success? Not mangled?”

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  “I think… Oh, crap.” Grabbing John’s hand, she dashed the few steps back into the cover of the trees, relieved when he followed her rather than digging in his heels and demanding explanations. Hauling them behind a bushy evergreen, she peered between the branches at the black-and-white squad vehicle parked behind John’s car.

  His annoyed grunt told her that he’d seen the two Denver detectives, too.

  Molly’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she hurried to yank it out, the buzzing sounding nerve-rackingly loud. “Hello?” she whispered.

  “Molly?” As happy as she was to hear Sergeant Blake’s voice, Molly cringed at the bad timing of her friend’s call.

  “Hey, Sarge. Mind if I call you back? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” She batted at a branch that had caught in her hair, but it stayed firmly stuck until John carefully untangled the strands.

  “Yeah, I guessed that, since you’re whispering,” Blake said dryly. “Does the ‘something’ you’re in the middle of involve a certain pair of Denver detectives who don’t know how to stay in their lane?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is that supersized bounty hunter still following you around like a homeless puppy? Garcia filled me in on the gossip.”

  She glanced at John, biting back a laugh. He mouthed what? but she just gave a small shake of her head. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what the two of you did, but those two sure have it out for you. When I stopped by the station just now, I heard them radio in. They’re at your house to pick up you and your hungry puppy.”

  She made a face, and John flipped his hand in an impatient motion. Who is it? he mouthed, and she held up her index finger in a one moment gesture. He grumbled but didn’t press her for more information, dividing his attention between her facial expressions and the two detectives tal
king in low voices next to John’s car.

  “Don’t let them pick you up. You need to get your asses to the station and give your statements to one of our friendly local officers, or those two are going to be slapping cuffs on you quicker than you can smack John Carmondy with a rolled-up newspaper.”

  “Okay, okay. Enough with the dog jokes. We’ll be there in fifteen.” She reviewed the route in her mind and sighed silently. “Make that twenty. Have the notepads ready.”

  “Notepads?” Sergeant Blake scoffed. “Okay, Grandma. We use computers now for that.”

  Resisting the urge to say something rude to her good friend who was helping them avoid the Denver detectives, Molly settled for a grunt of farewell and ended the call. As she tucked her phone away, she saw Detective Mill snap his head toward where she and John were standing.

  Molly froze.

  Even though she knew she and John were well hidden in the shadows of the trees, disguised by the branches of the evergreen, a pulse of anxiety shot through her. The detectives couldn’t find them until after they reached the police station. Even if the detectives didn’t drum up some bogus charges to hold them on, they’d still be detained for hours. Sonny would go to his meeting and then disappear again…along with Molly’s chance of saving her family’s house.

  The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly as Mill’s gaze raked over the trees. Finally, he turned back to his partner, and all the air gushed out of Molly’s lungs. Her relief was short-lived, however, because both detectives started walking toward the trees, their hands going to the butts of their guns.

  This time, John was the one who grabbed her hand as he moved deeper into the forest. She went with him for a few steps before giving him a tug and leading him to their left. If she wasn’t mistaken—and she really hoped she wasn’t—there was a path in that direction, one of Felicity’s favorite routes when she was torturing her sisters by making them trail run.

  Now that there were more trees between them and the detectives, Molly couldn’t see them anymore. She picked up her pace, wincing at every rustle and crunch her boots made, but needing to move faster. Any second, the detectives could be on them. Her pulse beat quickly in her throat as her fingers tightened around John’s. He was right behind her, trusting that she knew where she was going, so she could’ve released him…but she didn’t. The press of his warm palm against hers was the only thing keeping her calm enough to think.

  Weaving around a clump of scrubby pine trees, she broke through the brush and stepped onto the path. Relief coursed over her, making her knees shaky, but she ignored that and sped up, her fast walk turning into a jog. The trail was wide enough for John to fall in next to her, making it impossible for her to pretend she needed to hold his hand anymore. She was surprised at her reluctance to release him, but forced her fingers to let go anyway. He jogged easily next to her as she risked a glance over her shoulder at the spot where they’d emerged from the trees.

  No one was there—no one she could see, at least.

  “Who was on the phone?” John asked a few minutes later, his voice low but annoyingly even. She, on the other hand, was already starting to breathe heavily, thanks to the running and an overdose of adrenaline.

  “Sergeant Blake.” She paused for a breath before continuing. “Warning us that…the detectives…want to bring us in. Said to…get to the station…and one of the local cops…will take our statements…minus the handcuffing and detaining.”

  “Nice of her to warn us.”

  Not willing to waste any more breath, Molly just gave an affirmative grunt, which made John smile fondly at her for some odd reason.

  “Are we headed to the station, or are we still running away?” he asked a few moments later.

  “The station.” When he gave her a raised-eyebrow look, she added, “After backtracking…a little.”

  Instead of protesting the detour, he just settled in next to her. She got the impression that he could run at this speed for hours, and she mentally promised herself that she would work harder during Felicity’s training sessions. Already, she was dreading it. She loathed running.

  They followed the trail as it looped around and joined up with a logging road. The two-track felt too wide and exposed, especially as they reached the edge of the forest. Staying in the trees, Molly checked the area before stepping out onto the paved city street. They were several blocks away from her house, and she was fairly confident that they’d managed to lose the detectives.

  The neighborhood was quiet, making the sound of their footsteps seem even louder, and Molly resisted the urge to take John’s hand again. That was a growing addiction she needed to nip in the bud. As they approached the intersection, she let her attention stray toward him, noticing how the sweat dampening his hairline just made him look better.

  Stop it, she told herself firmly. Not the time to be ogling, even if he is looking even hotter than his usual considerable hotness.

  She swallowed a startled sound as he grabbed her arm and jerked her sideways, hauling her back. Before she could recover her balance, he was towing her with him as he dashed to the side of a small garden shed.

  Detectives? she mouthed, following his lead and pressing her back against the tiny building. She hoped that the homeowners weren’t there to see them hiding next to their shed. That could lead to awkward questions—or a call to the cops.

  John gave a short nod just as the front end of a squad car came into view as it slowly rolled past. This time, Molly was ready when he moved, staying right next to him as he slipped around to the back of the shed and then to the other side, staying hidden from the occupants of the passing car.

  After interminable seconds ticked by, he caught her hand again and jogged through the yard. The squad car was out of sight, but Molly still felt exposed after leaving the concealment of the shed. They cut between two houses, and she gave silent but fervent thanks that neither homeowner had a fence that they would’ve had to climb.

  For the rest of the run to the station, Molly didn’t let her attention waver, but stayed alert for any sign or sound of the detectives’ vehicle. When the law-enforcement building came into view, she swallowed a triumphant noise and didn’t let down her guard. They were so close, but they weren’t in the clear yet.

  As they crossed the parking lot, they slowed to a walk. It was hard not to dash for the doors, but Molly knew that they’d just draw unwanted attention. As they were halfway across the lot, the rev of an engine caught her attention. A squad car barreled down the street toward the entrance to the lot, and Molly knew that the detectives were inside.

  “Let’s go,” John said calmly, but she was already running full out for the door. She didn’t look at the squad car again, but she could hear the tires squealing as it made the turn into the lot. Dashing up the stairs, she and John barreled toward the door. He reached it first, pulling it open and holding it while she sprinted inside. Despite everything, she gave a breathless huff of laughter. Even while being chased down by grudge-holding detectives, John Carmondy remembered his manners.

  Molly must not have been the only one Blake gave a heads-up to, since Sergeant Garcia was waiting for them, waving them through the lobby like he was their track coach. “Third room on the right,” he said, holding the security door open.

  “Thanks,” she said breathlessly, sweat stinging her eyes as she darted past, followed quickly by John, just as the detectives burst into the lobby.

  “Hold that door!” Mill yelled.

  Garcia looked all too satisfied as he pulled the door closed behind him, the lock engaging with a click. The detectives could use their key cards, but it would slow them down just long enough for Molly, John, and the sergeant to get to the interview room. The three of them piled into the small space, and Molly dropped into one of the chairs, panting. John looked slightly more composed, but even his chest was heaving as he propped his shoulders against the wall.r />
  “Thanks for this,” he said.

  With a smug smile, Garcia waved off his gratitude. “The pleasure is all mine. The captain is making us cooperate with those Denver bastards, but I’ll do anything I can to make their lives a little more miserable.”

  The door burst open, revealing two pissed-off detectives, and John quickly moved, putting himself between them and Molly. Although she appreciated the sentiment, he was blocking her view of the fireworks, so she shifted to see around him.

  “What the hell are you doing, Garcia?” Mill demanded. “These two should be cuffed and interrogated.”

  “These two?” The sergeant looked supremely satisfied. “They’re innocent witnesses. Heroes, actually.”

  “They’re suspects in two bombings.”

  Garcia blew a raspberry, and Molly was hard pressed not to laugh. “We all know who planted those bombs, and neither of these two go by a name that rhymes with Honey Barber. Now go do something useful and quit harassing the witnesses.”

  The two detectives glared, but they didn’t seem so menacing now that Molly was safe in the interview room, watching Garcia mock them.

  “We’ll be discussing this with your captain,” Mill snarled, finally turning away. Bastien just gave them a measuring look, which made Molly nervous. His quietness seemed scarier than his partner’s bluster. The two left, and Garcia swung the door closed behind him.

  “That was enormously satisfying.”

  It had been, but Molly was still worried. “Will you get in trouble for this?”

  “I’ll get a stern lecture about my attitude from the captain and a pat on the back from every other Langston cop. Probably some free drinks at the bar from Blake, too.” Garcia didn’t lose his grin as he pointed toward the laptop sitting on the table. “Now statements. I’m assuming you’re still chasing Sonny and he’s the reason explosions keep following you around?”

  Molly simply nodded.

  Garcia’s smile had disappeared completely the second he mentioned Sonny. “I told you you’re going to get yourself killed going after that sociopath. Whatever you’re going to make on this, it’s not worth it.”