Page 21 of In Her Sights
Flipping her hand in a dismissive gesture, she resisted the urge to engage in an off-track conversation about nonsexist synonyms for wimp. She needed to concentrate on the issue of Barney’s hold on their lives. She dug her cell phone from her pocket. “Whatever. I need to call Jeremy Tremaine.”
Instantly, all humor was gone from John’s expression, his face all hard angles and sharp glares. The change startled Molly enough that she almost dropped her phone before she reminded herself that it was just John. “Why?” he barked, making her stare at his etched profile.
“Because he’ll know if Barney really can take our house before Mom’s first court date if it looks like she’s taken off.” The words came out sounding more tentative than she would’ve liked, and she straightened her shoulders, refusing to let John intimidate her, even if he suddenly looked like an angry gargoyle. A hot angry gargoyle. She shifted in her seat, not liking her body’s reaction to this oddly stern version of her usually easygoing rival.
“He threatened to do that?” Now John looked even angrier, although Molly could tell it wasn’t directed at her this time. “Bastard.” He sent her a glance that had a hint of apology in it. “Maybe I should’ve bonded her out. At least then you wouldn’t have Barney threatening to take your house away.”
His words make her stomach churn with a medley of emotions. As much as she hated that Barney had power over them, the thought of John accepting their house as collateral for Jane’s bond made Molly feel sick. Even if he’d done it to keep Barney’s grubby paws off their home, it still would’ve felt like a betrayal. “No,” she said slowly, trying to work through the hundreds of emotions swamping her. “I don’t want you involved in this mess.” At his wry look, she gave a small, slightly apologetic shrug and amended her statement. “I don’t want you involved any more than you already are, at least.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt as he pulled up to the curb in front of her house, and Molly refocused on finding Jeremy’s number in her phone. Even though she knew she should go inside and then call, a large part of her was reluctant to leave John’s vehicle. It felt safe and peaceful, a small oasis of protection where she could hide from the current insanity of her life.
Shaking off her thoughts, she found Jeremy’s number and moved to tap it, only to be interrupted when John covered the screen with one of his giant hands. Raising her head, she glared at him, but it was tough to hold on to her anger when he wore such a sheepish expression.
“What are you doing?” she asked as frostily as possible.
“Don’t call Tremaine,” he said, and her spine stiffened into a steel rod at the command in his voice. He must’ve noticed, because he grimaced and gave her hand a clumsy pat before withdrawing. “Please. I’ll find out if Barney can take your house before Jane’s next court date.”
“Why don’t you want me to talk to Jeremy?” Her question was more curious than offended, since his insistence that she not call the attorney had sounded sincerely concerned.
He opened his mouth and then shut it again, as if debating internally what to say out loud. “I don’t trust him.”
Tapping her cell phone against her palm, she eyed John as she considered what to do. She already felt like she was depending on him too much. He felt like a rock in the churning sea of chaos that her life had turned into, and while all of her instincts promised that she could trust him, she didn’t really know him that well. Working as a bounty hunter had shown her over and over again that she could only depend on her sisters, and now was definitely not the time for her to forget all the hard lessons she’d learned. “Who are you going to ask?” she finally said. “I’d rather not share this information with anyone else.”
“I won’t mention any names or specific details.” Lifting his hand, he traced an X over his heart like he was eight years old, and she was torn between laughing and melting. He could be such a big dork sometimes. “If you ask Jeremy, he’ll know right away that you’re talking about Jane, but my contacts won’t make the connection—not if I’m the one asking.”
Although she paused again to consider his words, she already knew what her answer was going to be. “Okay.” There was barely a hesitation before she spoke the next words. “Thank you.” It was getting dangerously easy to thank John. She felt another twinge of apprehension that she was relying on him too much. Once she allowed him into her world, it would be hard to eject him. When he smiled, though—a truly happy and wide grin—she couldn’t regret opening the door for him.
Now she could only hope that regret wouldn’t come later.
Chapter 8
A knock on the door interrupted Molly’s perusal of the Colorado criminal statutes. Completely caught up in the sentencing guidelines that may be Jane’s future, she jumped at the sound. Warrant, on the other hand, didn’t even lift his head off the floor where he was sprawled out over an air-conditioning vent. Instead, his tail thumped lazily a few times before he fell back asleep. The dog’s reaction made Molly fairly certain of who was at the door.
As she stood up, she swallowed a groan at the feel of her spine popping back into place. Glancing at the clock, she saw that she’d been hunched over her laptop for most of the afternoon. It was no wonder her body was protesting.
After peeking through the peephole in the front door, she unlocked it and swung it open. “This is becoming a habit.”
“What is?” John slipped past her, striding into the house as if he owned the place.
Making a face and pretending that she wasn’t glad to see him, she closed and relocked the door. “You showing up on our doorstep uninvited.”
“If you want me to leave, I can take this very valuable information and go.” His voice was muffled. As Molly entered the kitchen, she saw that he’d crouched down next to Warrant and was rubbing the delighted dog’s belly.
“No, it’s fine. I needed a break anyway.” Even though they were most likely going to be talking about Jane, John was still a good distraction from the mess her mom had made. “I take it you talked to your contact?”
“I did.” After a final pat, John straightened to his significant height. Having him here in her kitchen, taking up most of the space and a good portion of the oxygen—especially without her sisters there as a buffer—made Molly feel overheated. She couldn’t decide whether it was in a good way or a bad way. Shaking off her errant thoughts, she refocused on the important thing.
“What’d they say?” Her knees wobbled slightly from a mixture of exhaustion and anxiety, but she refused to sit down in the chair she’d abandoned when she’d answered the door. The only other seat in the room was too close to hers, and it was hard enough having this conversation without the prospect of John being pressed against her from knee to shoulder. She braced her palms on the table behind her and steeled herself for bad news.
“Barney’s technically right, but Zorah—my lawyer contact—said she doubted a judge would rule that Jane had violated her bail conditions if she hadn’t missed a court date yet.”
The tight knot of Molly’s stomach eased ever so slightly, and she had to lean back more heavily against the table. John must’ve caught the slight movement, since he took a step closer, his hands reaching toward her as if he was prepared to catch her before she fell. Luckily for her presence of mind, he stopped before he was close enough to touch.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
Ignoring the suggestion, she stiffened her spine so she could remove her hands from the table behind her and stand unsupported. Now was not the time for her to get literally weak in the knees. She could collapse later—much later—once they’d figured out the situation and their house was safe from Barney’s clutches. “I’m fine. So, we’re good until her arraignment, then?”
