Page 42 of In Her Sights
He dipped his head in an ironic almost-bow. “My pleasure.” Pulling a handcuff key from one of his pockets, he freed Cord and gave him a strong nudge away from Molly and the house. “Off you go. You’re free. Fly, little goose. Fly!”
Cord gave one last mournful look at the disabled SUV and Sanders before hurrying away from them.
John smiled broadly, making Molly give a snort of amusement. “You’re such a weirdo.” She shoved Sanders away from her, grabbing the Taser from her waistband in the same motion so it was pointed at him before he even turned around. Giving him an insincere smile, she flapped her free hand in a shooing motion. “Better get moving. It’s a long way to the bus stop.”
“I need my phone back.” He eyed the Taser, as if trying to decide whether or not he could tackle her before she could deploy it.
John moved to her side, but she kept her attention focused on Sanders. He was angry and embarrassed, and she didn’t trust that he’d choose to follow the most reasonable path. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you broke into my house. Now, shoo.”
He started to argue, but John shifted forward. It was a slight move, but it was enough to make Sanders jump back. With a final glare that Molly assumed was supposed to promise retribution, Sanders grudgingly turned and strode off after Cord. Without taking her eyes off the retreating duo, Molly gave an audible sigh.
“Why don’t the bad guys ever quail in my presence like that?” she asked idly.
Even with her focus on Sanders and Cord, she knew he was eyeing her with amusement. “Maybe because I’m twice your height and weight?”
She waved a hand, dismissing that, and then remembered that she’d vowed to quit imitating Jane’s gesture. “You’re not twice my height.”
“Close enough.”
“No. Not close enough. You’re like six inches taller than me.” As Sanders rounded the corner and disappeared, she turned to face him. When she tilted her head back to look at his grinning face, she realized that estimate might’ve been low. “Fine. Ten inches, tops.”
“That’s what she said.”
It was almost impossible to hold back her laugh at that, but somehow she managed. Elbowing him in the side, she turned her face to hide her struggle to contain her amusement. As she did, she saw Mr. P’s lights come on, and her desire to laugh deserted her completely. Instead, she groaned.
“What?” John asked, following her gaze.
As if in answer, Mr. P’s front door swung open. Grabbing John’s arm, Molly hustled back toward her house, towing him behind her. He went willingly, not even laughing as her pace picked up until they were practically sprinting toward her front porch. Only when they were inside did she let out a relieved breath.
John, of course, was laughing at her. “Why did we just run away from your elderly neighbor?”
“He’s not really elderly. He just acts like it.” Molly knew that she was dodging the question, and the way that John’s eyebrows climbed higher on his forehead told her that he knew it, too. “Fine. I didn’t want to deal with Mr. P tonight. I’ll need more sleep before I can listen to his complaining and stay civil. A lot more sleep. And maybe some wine.”
Chuckling quietly, John ushered her to the stairs. “I can’t help with the wine, but we can get some more sleep.”
“Unless someone else breaks in,” she grumbled, making a serious effort to keep her feet quiet. She was extremely tempted to stomp up the steps like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum, but Cara and Norah—and Warrant—had somehow miraculously managed to keep sleeping through all the commotion earlier. She didn’t want to wake them now and have to explain everything that had happened. All she wanted was to sleep, uninterrupted by sisters or dogs or burglars.
“True.” John sounded quite a bit more nonchalant about the idea than she felt. “Burglarizing your house seems to have become a trend recently.”
Making a sour face, she waved John toward her room before peeking in at Cara and Norah. Both were still down for the count, although how Norah could sleep clinging to the edge of her narrow bed while mattress-hog Warrant pressed huge feet into her back was a mystery.
Molly softly closed Norah’s bedroom door before turning around to find John waiting for her. The sight of him there, so steady and strong, sent a sense of comfort sweeping through her, pushing away her exhaustion and stress. She froze, caught in a strange moment of wondering if this was what it would be like to have a partner, someone who could have her back and prop her up when the weight of taking care of her family got unbearably heavy. It was an addictive, incredible feeling to have support, and she knew she had to be careful. He wasn’t here forever, just the night, and it would be stupid of her to start leaning on him. When he inevitably disappeared, she’d fall.
He eyed her curiously. “What?” he asked, his voice low.
Shaking off the longing for that moment to be a permanent reality, she brushed past him without speaking. She stayed silent, worried that something desperate and needy might slip out if she said anything. Sleep. She needed sleep to rebuild her walls and organize her thoughts, to tuck her hungry emotions back far enough that no one else could see them.
“What was that look?” John pressed as soon as they were in her room. He closed the door with a firm click that almost made her jump with its intimate finality.
“What look? There was no look.” She didn’t care that it was a lie. There was no way she could deal with an emotional discussion with John Carmondy right now. Meeting his gaze, she hoped desperately that he’d let it go.
His expression said clearly that he didn’t believe her, but—miracle of miracles—he did let it go and shimmied out of clothes until he was just in his underwear.
“Whoa!” She spun around to face the wall, but it was too late. The image of mostly naked John was burned into her brain. “Give me a little warning next time.”
“Next time?” The words were filled with laughter, and she remembered why she always had to fight the urge to shove him. “Aw, Pax. Is that your way of inviting me over for future sleepovers? An open invitation to turn any night into coed night, shall we say?”
“No.” Her tone was harsh, but she knew the importance of making her answer very clear, or he’d be dropping in all the time, acting like her bedroom was his own. “Let’s not say that.”
