by Jill Shalvis
Lucas didn’t see at all. He was good at certain things, such as at his job of investigating and seeking out the asshats of the world and righting justice. He was good at taking care of his close-knit family. He was good, when he wanted to be, in the kitchen. And—if he said so himself—also in bed.
But he was not good in social situations, such as those that required small talk, especially with old ladies dressed up as elves. “This really isn’t the sort of case that Hunt Investigations takes on,” he said.
“But Molly said you’re an elite security and investigative firm that employs finders and fixers for hire, whoever needs them.”
Not strictly true. A lot of the jobs they took on were routine; criminal, corporate and insurance investigations along with elite security contracts, surveillance, fraud, and corporate background checks. But some weren’t routine at all, such as forensic investigations, the occasional big bond bounty hunting, government contract work …
Nailing a bad Santa wasn’t on the list.
“Do you know when Molly might arrive?” Left Elf asked. She was looking at him even as her knitting needles continued to move at the speed of light. “We’ll just wait for her.”
“I don’t know her schedule,” Lucas said. And that was the truth. Hunt Investigations was run by the biggest badass he’d ever met. Archer Hunt, and he employed a team that was the best of the best. Lucas was honored to be a part of that team. All of them, himself included, would step in front of a bullet for each other, and had.
Literally, in his case.
The lone woman in their midst was Molly Malone, equally fearless, though in other ways. She was the one to keep them all on their toes. No one would dare venture into her domain at her desk and put their hands on her stuff to check her schedule, but he could at least ask around. “I’ll go check her ETA,” he said and headed inside.
He found Archer and Joe in the employee room inhaling donuts. Grabbing one for himself, he nodded to Archer and looked at Joe, one of Lucas’s best friends and also his work partner. “Where’s your sister?”
Joe shrugged and went for another donut. “Not her keeper. Why?”
“There’re two elves outside waiting to talk to her.”
“Still?” Archer shook his head. “I told them we wouldn’t take their case.” He headed out front. Lucas followed because if his social niceties game was stale, Archer had zero social niceties game.
“Ladies,” Archer said to the elves. “As I explained earlier, your case isn’t the kind of case we take on.”
“Oh we heard you,” Left Elf said. “We’re just waiting for Molly. She promised to help us personally if you wouldn’t.”
Archer looked pained. “Molly doesn’t take on cases here. She’s office staff.”
The two elves looked at each other and then tucked away their knitting. “Fine,” Left Elf said. “We’ll just go straight to her at home then.”
Archer waited until they’d gotten on the elevator before turning to Lucas. “Why are you here?”
“Gee, good to see you too, boss man.”
“Let me rephrase,” Archer said. “How’s your side? You know, where you have a GSW?”
“It’s no longer a gunshot wound. It’s practically just a scratch now. I’m good enough to get back to work.”
“Uh-huh.” Archer looked unimpressed. And … still pissed. Lucas had been hoping that he’d gotten himself out of the doghouse by now, but apparently not.
“I didn’t get a report from your doctor clearing you,” Archer said.
Lucas squelched a grimace. His doctor had told him—repeatedly—at least one more week. But he’d be dead of boredom by another week. “We’re having a minor difference in opinion.”
“Shit.” Archer swiped a hand down his face. “You know I can’t put you back on the job until he clears you.”
“If I stay home another day, I’ll lose my shit.”
“It’s only been two weeks since you were shot and nearly bled out before we got you to the hospital,” Archer said. “Way too close of a call.”
“Practically ancient history.”
Archer shook his head. “Not even close. And I told you to abort. Instead, you sent the team out to safety and then you alone hauled ass deeper into the yacht, knowing it was on fire thanks to our asshole perps trying to sink it for the insurance payout.”
“I went deeper because there was still someone on board,” Lucas reminded him. “Their lead suspect’s teenage kid. He’d been holed up and had fallen asleep watching TV. He would’ve died if I’d left him.”
“And instead you almost did.”
Lucas blew out a breath. They’d had this argument in the hospital. They’d had it twice since. He didn’t want to have it again. Especially since he wasn’t sorry he’d disobeyed a direct order. “We saved an innocent. You’d have done the same damn thing. So would any of us.”
Archer looked over at Joe, who’d been silent through this entire exchange.
Joe lifted a shoulder, an admission that yeah, he might’ve done the same thing. And so would Archer, and Lucas damn well knew it.
“Shit,” Archer finally said. “Fine. I’ll unground you, but only for light duty until I hear from your doctor personally that you’re one hundred.”
Lucas didn’t dare smile or pump a fist in triumph. “Deal.”
Archer went from looking pissy to mildly amused. “You don’t know what light duty I’m going to make you do yet.”
“Anything would be better than staying at home,” he said fervently.
“Glad to hear you say that.” Archer jabbed a thumb at the door. “Molly’s going to want to take those elves seriously. She’s been asking to take on a case for months now, but our cases have all been too risky.”
Lucas rubbed his side. Wasn’t that the damn truth. “And?”
“And your ‘light duty’ job is to make sure she turns those elves down,” Archer said. “She’s not ready yet.”
Joe nodded his agreement on that and Lucas let out a mirthless laugh. He understood why Molly’s boss might tell her not to take on a case, but her brother should know better. “Hello, you’ve met her, right?” Lucas asked them. “No one tells Molly what to do.”
“Improvise,” Archer said, unmoved. “And keep in mind, you’re still in hot water with me. So be careful.” He looked at Joe. “Give us a minute.”
Joe looked at Lucas and left the room.
“You’ve got something else to say?” Lucas asked Archer.
“Yeah. Don’t screw this up. And don’t sleep with her either.”
Granted, Lucas had never been all that discriminating when it came to the fairer sex, but this was Molly they were talking about. She was the baby sister of his friend and coworker, which meant she was not on his radar. At least not during the day.
The nights were something else altogether because there’d been more than a few times where she’d starred in his fantasies—his own deep, dark secret since he liked breathing. “I wouldn’t sleep with her.”
Archer looked behind him to make sure Joe had left. “Elle and I saw you at the pub last night, flirting with her.”
This had Lucas’s full attention. “What?”
“Yeah, and what the hell were you thinking? You were lucky Joe was late.”
He’d flirted with Molly? Was he crazy? He’d long ago learned to ignore the undercurrent of electricity between them because he had zero interest in mixing business and pleasure, and even less interest in hurting her.
And he would eventually hurt her.
Not to mention what Joe would do to him after he did. And if Joe failed in this new mission, Archer would happily finish him off, and they’d both have every right. But Lucas wouldn’t go there, ever. His job had come between him and The One a few times now, so he’d shifted his priorities. He still loved women, just not one woman—and he was good with that and who he was.
Except … sometimes, like two weeks ago when he’d almost died on the job and had been forc
ed off duty, he knew he was fooling himself. He’d been left feeling far more alone than he liked to admit. He looked at guys like Archer and Joe, both who’d managed to make love work for them just fine, and he wondered what the hell he was doing wrong.
Drawing a deep breath, he thought of the woman in his bed two flights up. Maybe for starters, he should try to remember the name of the women he’d just slept with. “Trust me,” he said. “Nothing happened with Molly last night.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, really. Apparently, I was preoccupied with someone else.”
Archer went brows up. “The new brunette at the bar?” He then clapped Lucas on the shoulder. “Glad to hear you’re not going to have to die today.”
“Yeah, well, when Molly finds out you’ve put me on babysitting duty, she’s going to kill us both.”
“That’s why she’s not going to find out.”
Lucas stared at Archer, a very bad feeling coming over him. “I’m supposed to keep it from her?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
Lucas didn’t know much about Molly’s past other than something bad happened to her a long time ago and she still had a limp from whatever it’d been. Joe had kept a tight lid on his and Molly’s rough childhood. Both brother and sister had some serious trust issues. He shook his head glumly. “This is worse than monitor duty.”
“Is it worse than dying?” Archer asked mildly.
Shit. Lucas went back upstairs. He needed a shower, fresh clothes, and a clear head before he faced Molly, as well as a good story because apparently he couldn’t tell her the truth. He hoped to hell that a long hot shower would clear his brain enough to come up with something believable, because something else Molly was—sharp as they came. He stalked through his bedroom, hit the switch on the wall and froze.
The brunette was still in his bed.
At the bright light flooding the room, she gasped and sat straight up, clutching the sheet to her chin, her hair a wild cloud around her face.
And not a stranger’s face either.
Molly’s face.
Molly was in his bed and his first thought was oh shit. His second thought tumbled right on the heels of that—he was going to die today after all, slowly and painfully.
CHAPTER 2
#TheyDontKnowThatWeKnowTheyKnow
Molly Malone didn’t have a lot of experience at the whole morning-after scenario. She wasn’t big on going out much, mostly because all she wanted to do after a long day of work was take off her work clothes, chill, and not get dressed up and go out on some date with a guy who thought that by date three he should get laid.
Last night had been different for several reasons, one of which happened to be standing at the foot of the bed, his short, silky dark hair tousled; scowl on his very hot, unshaven face; hands on his lean hips. He wore rumpled cargoes and the same black T-shirt he’d worn last night, the one that hugged all his sinewy strength and could make a woman’s mouth water.
But not hers. Instead she lifted her chin into his terse silence. Lucas was a man of few words. He could say more with an annoyed exhale than anyone she knew. “What?” she asked.
“I’m … confused.”
Probably not an easy admission for a guy who always knew what to do or say. But she had to admit, seeing him a little off his axis, something she’d bet the tough, hardened investigator rarely allowed anyone else to see, made her want to mess with him. Yes, sometimes she liked to live dangerously. “And you’re confused about … ?”
His warm, deep brown eyes met hers, but he didn’t answer.
“You didn’t seem confused last night,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
He scowled. But more interestingly, he also paled. Which, considering he’d gotten his sexy bronzed skin tone from his Brazilian mother, was quite the feat.
“Maybe you should tell me what happened last night,” he said.
“You first. What do you remember?”
“We were at the pub.” He frowned. “And then I woke in bed with you.”
Oh boy. After one of Hunt’s longtime clients had shown up and had lifted his glass with “this one’s for Lucas, who saved my ass and my life,” he’d tossed back his drink, clearly expecting Lucas to do the same.
Which he had.
Shortly after that, Lucas’s constant sharp edge had softened, though she’d been the only one to notice. To make sure he got upstairs to his place safe and sound, she’d taken him herself. He’d been both a smartass and a pain in her ass as she’d bossed him to bed, asking if she’d been mean Nurse Ratchet in another life.
It’d been a direct hit because she’d played the hard-ass nurse nearly all of her life to her dad. She’d had to.
“Molly,” he said tightly now, clearly out of patience.
Fine. He wanted to know what had happened. A recap might be fun. “Well, for starters,” she said, “you told me you had a crush on me.”
“Bullshit.”
Okay, fine, he hadn’t. And ouch. “You’re so sure about that?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. By the time she’d gotten him here, he’d been really out of it. Having never seen him anything less than 100 percent in control of himself and everything around him, she’d been worried about him.
And had been ever since he’d gotten shot two weeks ago on the job, the memory of which still made her heart clutch. According to Archer and Joe, Lucas had continuously denied being anything but “fine,” but there’d been shadows in his eyes last night and a new hollowness that she recognized.
Deeply buried pain.
Being shot had brought back some bad memories for him and no one understood that more than she.
Still standing at the foot of the bed, hands on hips, his expression dialed to Not Happy, he blew out a breath. “Tell me what else.”
She’d grown up in a house made of testosterone. It’d been just her dad, her brother, and herself, and she’d learned early on how to handle the male psyche. Her best strategy had always involved humor. “I don’t know if I should say. You look ready to have a mantrum.”
He scowled. “What the hell’s a mantrum?”
“It’s like a tantrum, only worse because a grown-ass man is having it.” She smiled.
He did not. The muscles in his jaw ticked. “I don’t have mantrums. I want to know exactly what I said.” He paused. “And did.”
So he really didn’t remember, which was both a disappointment and an opportunity. “You said, and I quote …” She lowered her voice to imitate his low base tone. “‘I’m gonna rock your world, baby.’”
He closed his eyes and muttered something about being a dead man walking …
But, she couldn’t help but notice, he didn’t doubt that he’d come onto her. Interesting. Maybe even … thrilling. Not that it changed a thing. She wasn’t interested in him, period. To be interested meant putting herself out there and being willing to fall. And to do those things, she had to be vulnerable.
Not going to happen. Not ever again.
Nope, at the ripe old age of nearly twenty-eight, she was done, thank you very much. Not that this stopped her from starting to feel a little bit insulted at Lucas’s attitude. “I’m not sure I see what the problem is,” she said.
“Are you kidding me?” His voice was morning scratchy and sexy as hell, damn him. She could tell he hadn’t had any caffeine yet today.
And neither had she. And worse, she’d not taken off her makeup the night before out of worry and stress over the man currently glaring at her, so she probably looked like a raccoon.
A raccoon with really bad morning bed head.
Ignoring him, she tossed back the bedding. And it was some really great bedding too. She’d need a raise from Archer before she could afford anything close to this quality.
Lucas seemed to suddenly choke on his own tongue, prompting her to look down at herself. Not wanting to sleep in her one and only party dress, she’d … borrowed one of his T-shirts last night. It hit h
er at mid-thigh and was softer than any T-shirt she’d ever had and the truth was, he wasn’t going to get it back.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked.
“Yes.” The funny thing was that on the job, Lucas was the steady, unflappable, stoic one. Nothing got to him, nothing penetrated. He was “it’s all good” Lucas Knight. But he wasn’t all good now. He thought they’d slept together and though he was doing a great job at hiding it, he was freaking out.
Craning his neck, he eyed the chair, and her dress on it. Her heels lay haphazardly on the floor, her champagne lace bra on top of them. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand over his scruffy jaw. “Just shoot me now.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t remember any of it?”
He paused, dropped his hand and opened his eyes on hers. “Just how much of ‘it’ was there?”
“Wow,” she said in her best pissy tone. She had no idea what she thought she was doing poking the bear like this, but his clear unhappiness at the thought of them being together felt like an insult.
“Just, please God, tell me it was all consensual,” he said, not playing. In fact, he was more serious than she’d ever seen him.
Well, if he was going to go all hero-like on her … She sighed. “Of course the evening was entirely consensual.”
He nodded and sank to the chair holding her dress.
“Hey,” she said, adding temper to insulted. “I didn’t say it was bad.”
“How about we say it didn’t happen at all?”
Oh no. No way was she going to let him off the hook that easy. She arched a brow. “Or did it?” She desperately wanted to get off the bed and dressed, but here was the thing. In the mornings, her right leg was particularly unaccommodating. Numb from her knee to the top of her thigh, it always took her a long few minutes to stand up first thing. And a cane, which she kept by her bed and hated more than green vegetables, and she hated green vegetables a lot. The whole thing involved a lot of whimpering and gasping with pain as she stretched and worked and coaxed the leg into working.