by Jill Shalvis
But hell if she’d do that with an audience. Pride before the fall and all that. “I think I hear your cell buzzing from the other room,” she said.
“Shit.” He turned to the door, but not before pointing at her. “Don’t move.”
Right. The minute he was gone, she slid out of the bed. Her right leg predictably didn’t hold and she dropped to her knees. “Dammit,” she whispered as nerve pain shot through her thigh in a series of bolt lightning blasts. “Dammit …” She grimaced through the cramp and slowly rose, breathing through the pain in short little pants as she’d learned to do.
“My phone wasn’t ringing—” Lucas broke off and then he was there, right there, steadying her with hands on her hips. “You okay?”
“Yes!” She shoved his hands away and tried to push his big body back too, but he was an immovable tree when he wanted to be and he stayed right here, supporting her until, finally dammit, she got her leg beneath her. She probably would have even relented and used her cane if it’d been here, not that she intended to admit it. “I’ve got this,” she muttered, stepping free, incredibly aware of how little she was wearing and how much he was.
And worse, the look in his eyes didn’t have anything to do with sexy times, but pity. “I said I’m fine.”
He lifted his hands. “I heard you, loud and clear.”
“But you don’t believe it.”
“Hard to when you’re pale from pain,” he said. “Sit down.”
“No.”
“Molly,” he said in that frustrated voice again. But then he hit her with a zinger she didn’t see coming. “Please,” he said quietly.
Well, hell. She sat at the foot of the bed, and the fact that she did it just before her leg gave out again was her own little secret.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said very seriously.
“I’m not going to rate your performance last night.”
“That’s not—” He paused, his eyes sharpened. “Wait. What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“So you’re saying I did suck.”
She had to laugh. “Well, if you can’t remember it, how good could it really have been, right?”
She was only teasing of course, but he frowned like the possibility that he hadn’t been heart-stoppingly amazing had never crossed his mind until that very moment. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked.
Still looking distracted, he shook his head. “Two elves were waiting on you at the office this morning.”
She raised a brow. “Are you still drunk?”
“No, really. It was your neighbor and a friend. They were talking about their bad Santa.”
“Mrs. Berkowitz,” she said, remembering. “She’s been working at a small pop-up Christmas village in Soma and thinks there’s something nefarious going on.”
“You can’t take this case on, Molly. You’ve got to turn her down.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I know you didn’t just tell me what to do. Even if we did sleep together.”
She meant him to react to that and he did, with a grimace. “Okay, first, this”—he waggled a finger between them—“didn’t happen.”
“And you’re so sure about that, are you?” she asked.
Assuming by the way his mouth opened and then closed, he wasn’t sure of anything right about now. Now that they were both irritated, she got up again and dammit. Dammit, her leg still hurt. She paused, but didn’t see any way around letting him see her limp over to her clothes.
But for the record, she hated it.
Incredibly aware of his quiet gaze on her as she moved, she didn’t look at him. This was why she didn’t do morning afters. Well that and morning breath.
“Do you wake up like this every morning?” he asked quietly.
“No. I usually wake up with a good attitude, but then idiots happen.”
“I meant your leg,” he said, ignoring her outburst. “You’re hurting.”
She sighed. Honestly, she was always hurting. “I’m fine.” She stepped into her dress and pulled it up under his T-shirt, working like a trapeze artist to not flash him as she got it into place. Leaving his T-shirt on—she was so keeping it—she moved to the door. “Gotta go.”
“Wait.” He caught her at the door. “About last night.”
“I know. You don’t want it broadcasted blah blah.”
“Whatever happened last night,” he said, eyes very intense. “It can’t happen again.”
Something deep inside her quivered in … disappointment? And here was the thing. She knew what had happened last night. Nothing. But it still made her mad, so she snorted. “Don’t worry. With lines like ‘I’m gonna rock your world, baby,’ it most definitely won’t happen again.”
He started to nod, but stopped. Winced. “Did I—Shit.” He stared down at his work boots for a moment before meeting her gaze again, his disarmingly concerned. “I made it good for you, right?”
Her every single erogenous zone got a little wiggly at the thought, which annoyed the hell out of her. She shrugged.
He looked horrified. “I didn’t?”
The truth was, if he set his mind to it, she had no doubt he could make it good for her without even trying. Not that he was going to ever get the chance. Yes he was smart, resourceful, confident, and incredibly quick-witted. On the job, he was doggedly aggressive with razor sharp instincts that rarely failed him, things that no doubt suited him in bed as well—and the women lucky enough to be there with him. All very sexy, attractive traits in a man … for a normal woman.
But she wasn’t normal. So she gave him one last vague smile and reached for the door.
He put a hand flat on the wood, holding it closed.
“Move,” she said.
“You’re still wearing my shirt.”
And if she wore it to work, everyone would know they spent the night together. She yanked it off, threw it at him and tugged open the door.
“Molly.”
There was a touch of exasperation in his voice, and also possibly regret. Since both made her want to punch him, she kept going.
“The elves,” he said to her back. “The bad Santa case. Tell me you’re not taking it on.”
“I can’t tell you that, since I’m no longer talking to you.” She made her way down the stairs and to the courtyard, walking past the pet shop, the office supply shop, and the new day spa, heading right for The Canvas Shop. One of the people who worked there, Sadie, had given Molly her one and only tattoo, and a friendship had been born of the experience.
Sadie waved at her. She wasn’t alone. Ivy was with her. Ivy operated the taco truck on the street along the back of the building. Like Molly, Ivy sometimes ducked into The Canvas Shop for some calm sanity, which Sadie always provided along with a side of sarcasm.
Both women had become new friends even if it felt like they’d known each other forever.
“How’s things?” Molly asked.
“Given that it’s a work day …” Ivy shrugged. She hopped down off of the counter and headed to the door. “Try to have a good one!” she called back before vanishing.
“And you?” Molly asked Sadie.
Sadie gazed at the shop’s small Christmas tree, under which were a nice stack of wrapped presents, and sighed. “Well, none of the gifts with my name on them have barked yet, which is disappointing …” She took in Molly’s appearance and her eyes widened. “Whoa. Wait a minute. You were wearing those same clothes when I last saw you. Yesterday. Am I witnessing the rarest of creatures, Molly Malone making the never before seen Morning Walk of Shame?”
Molly grimaced.
And Sadie grinned. “Yay, Christmas came early for me. Did all your parts still remember how to work?”
“Okay, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Bummer,” Sadie said.
“Can I borrow your shower?”
“Absolutely,” Sadie said, nodding so that her jet black hair, streaked with purple, fl
ew around her face. “And in exchange for the deets, I’ll even throw in some clothes.”
This was a good deal because Sadie had amazing clothes. Today she was in a pretty flowy top, skintight jeans, and some seriously kickass ankle boots that would have had Molly drooling if she wasn’t already completely thrown over the night and morning she’d just had. “No deets,” she said firmly. “But I’ll buy you a coffee and muffin from the coffee shop on my first break if you have Advil.”
Sadie pulled a small bottle from her purse. “Welcome to adulthood, where having Home Advil and Purse Advil is everything. Who was he?”
“Who?”
Sadie rolled her eyes and Molly sighed. “I’m not telling.”
Sadie cocked her head and studied her. “Lucas.”
“What the actual hell,” Molly said.
Sadie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Are you serious? I’m right?” She laughed with sheer delight. “Nice choice,” she said approvingly.
“No. No, he’s not a ‘nice’ choice, or any choice,” Molly said. “He’s …”
“Hot?” Sadie inquired.
Well, okay, yes.
“Perfect?” Sadie asked.
“No,” Molly said quickly. “Not perfect.”
“Good,” Sadie said. “‘The One’ should never be perfect.”
“And he’s not The One either,” Molly said. “That’s absurd.” For many, many reasons, not the least being that while Lucas was incredibly serious on the job, off the job he was … not. He joked around nonstop and women tended to flock to that charming flirt thing he had down pat. But not her.
Never her.
She had … trust issues with that kind of guy, big-time.
“Okay,” Sadie said, nodding. “You’re not ready for The One. Make him The One for a night then. Before someone else comes along and snags him up.”
Molly opened her mouth and then shut it, afraid to let anything out. Such as how much she hated the idea of Lucas sleeping with another woman. Which wasn’t a comfortable realization at all. Get over it, she told herself firmly, and fast.
By the time she walked into Hunt’s office twenty minutes later, she’d lost her amusement for the game of letting Lucas think they’d slept together. Mrs. Berkowitz was no longer waiting on her, but a million other things were, including a battle with Hunt’s health insurance company over some of the coverage from Lucas’s medical care.
Normally, she loved her job. There hadn’t been money for her to go to college, and her plan to get a track and field scholarship had died when she’d wrecked her leg. Out of desperation she’d gone into admin work while Joe had been away in the military. She’d moved around a bit, gathering skills, until Joe had come home and landed at Hunt Investigations, bringing her into the fold as well.
But after two years behind the front desk, she wanted more. She’d begged Archer to let her also take on the background checks and research that overloaded his men, and he’d been all too happy to comply. She’d kicked ass too, providing them with superior intel all year. Yeah, they had their resident IT person—Lucas himself—but she could be just as good as him with some training.
Probably.
In any case, she’d loved getting a foot in the investigative door, but instead of satisfying her, she only craved more.
She wanted to go out in the field.
Archer had told her point-blank that while she had a brilliant mind and he was grateful for it, he couldn’t let her get hurt. Joe had been far less diplomatic, flatly refusing to discuss it with her. And that’s when she’d realized that when they looked at her they didn’t see brilliant investigation work, they saw vulnerability and weakness. And she got it. Appearance made a strong impression, and her physical appearance suggested weakness, not strength.
There was nothing she could do about that but prove them wrong.
“Need you to fax us the paperwork,” the insurance guy said in her ear after being on hold for thirty minutes. “I told you this already, last week.”
“Right,” Molly said. “I’ll just jump into my DeLorean and drive back to 1987 to get my fax machine. Can’t I just scan you the pages?”
“We don’t accept scans. They must be faxed or snail-mailed.”
She needed more caffeine for this, and after her call, she hit up the staff room, where she came face-to-face with Archer. She pointed at him. “You turned away those two sweet little old ladies who needed your help.”
“We don’t take those kinds of cases.”
She glared at him. “You mean old people cases?”
In typical Archer fashion, he refused to engage. “We’re booked up solid for the next five months. I don’t have the manpower available.”
“Or the interest?”
Archer didn’t sigh, but he looked like he wanted to. “Look, I know you’re bored. I know you want to do more. I get it. I’m working on it. But I’m not going to throw you into things without the proper training and field experience before you’re ready. You’ll eventually get a caseload of your own. I promise you that, but when it’s right. Okay?”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“You’re a valuable part of this company, Molly. I’m not just placating you here. All I’m asking for is a little patience on your end until you’re ready.”
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around? That you’re not ready for me?”
At that, she got a rare smile and a low laugh. “The world isn’t ready for you.” Archer let his smile fade. “But they will be, and when things happen, you’ll be prepared, and safe because of it.”
“And in the meantime?”
“I’m bringing you in on two new cases where we need your research and intel. They’re in your in-box waiting on you.”
She knew this was a bone, but she’d take it. And though she appreciated the vote of confidence, she was having trouble accessing her patience. Especially when she ran into Joe a few minutes later.
“You’re not taking on any cases,” her brother said flatly while stuffing a huge sandwich down his throat. He’d just come in from a takedown that had involved the entire team and he had three minutes before he had to head back out again for surveillance on another job.
His job rocked, dammit. “I think I have a right to do whatever job I want to do,” she said coolly.
Joe sighed and put down his sandwich. A rare occurrence, letting go of his food, signaling he was very serious. “Molly, listen to me. I can’t think of you in this job that I do, in the thick of it, with the constant danger.”
“And yet you do it. Do you think I don’t worry? Or that Kylie doesn’t?” she asked, referring to Joe’s better half.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said stubbornly.
The unspoken word being again. Because they both knew what he was really referring to, which was the one time she’d been involved in his world and she’d nearly died. She still carried the scars, inside and out.
He blamed himself.
But she did not. “Look,” she said softly, wanting to make him understand and end this discussion once and for all. “I’m smart. I’m resourceful. I’m resilient.”
He nodded his agreement, which warmed her just a little bit. “All things I learned from you,” she said and squeezed his hand, smiling at the look of surprise on his face. “You’ve always taken care of me, Joe. Always,” she repeated fiercely. “And I’m thankful and grateful for it. But I’m good, okay? I’m better than good. And it’s time for you to let me go, to let me make my own decisions.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted. “But I’ll try.”
“Try real hard,” she suggested.
CHAPTER 3
#BadSanta
By the time Molly got home that evening, she was completely done in. She lived in Outer Sunset, about twenty minutes from work on a good day with no traffic.
But there was always traffic.
When she walked up the few steps to her apartment building, she found three
elves waiting for her.
Seemed they’d multiplied.
The shortest elf was Mrs. Berkowitz, her neighbor. The other elf was Mrs. White, Mrs. Berkowitz’s knitting partner. Molly had never seen Elf Number Three before, who was younger than the other two by a good decade. “Evening, ladies,” Molly said, getting her first real smile of the day. “Looking good.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Berkowitz said. “But your boss said he wouldn’t take our case.”
“I know. I heard. I’m sorry—”
“We really need your help. Santa’s stealing from us.”
Molly leaned against her porch railing. “You know for a fact that he’s actually stealing?”
“Yes. He’s saying there aren’t any profits to pay us from, but he has money. Bingo alone brings it in, I’ve seen the piles of cash. We need your help,” she said so earnestly that her little elf ears quivered.
Molly looked over at Mrs. White, who nodded. And then Elf Number Three.
“That’s Janet,” Mrs. Berkowitz said of the sweet-looking, softly rounded woman. “She heard us talking about the money and wants to join the cause.”
“The cause?” Molly repeated.
“Yes, the Santa Claus cause,” Mrs. Berkowitz said with a straight face. “We worked hard all year. We won’t stand for being ripped off, it’s not right.”
If true, it wasn’t right at all. The men in her life might not understand her need to step in, but they should. It’d been from them that she’d learned to do the morally right thing even when no one else believed. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” she promised.
Mrs. Berkowitz looked relieved. “Oh, thank you, we so appreciate it. And of course we want to pay you, but until we can get our hands on our money—”
“It’s okay,” Molly said. “I’m not officially an investigator anyway. But if we get to the bottom of this case, I might be able to convince my boss to let me be one, so see, we’re helping each other.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Berkowitz said fervently. “You’re a godsend.”
Several hours later, Molly sat in her bed staring at her laptop. She’d researched the Christmas village, the owners, and the bingo hall. The hall itself was leased by the same company that leased the adjoining lot and parking area for the Christmas village. St. Michael’s Bingo. Near as she could tell, in spite of the company’s name, it wasn’t affiliated with a church or specific charity. And Mrs. Berkowitz had been right. According to Yelp ratings and other reviews, it did appear that bingo brought in lots of business and was extremely popular.