Page 45 of In Her Sights
Yolanda took a deep breath, and Molly braced for lots of yelling, but her words came out in an angry growl instead. “Leave. Now.”
“See, the problem is that this is the only place we know where Sonny is sure to show up eventually,” Molly said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. “If you tell us another place we could find Sonny, we won’t have to come back here.” She paused, giving Yolanda her most serious, determined face. “Every night.”
“Are you threatening me?” Yolanda bristled and took a step forward. John made a sound in the back of his throat and seemed to grow another two inches, and she stopped her advance, an apprehensive look flashing across her face.
It was amazing how much more secure Molly felt when she had a man-shaped blockade between her and a pissed-off informant. “Not a threat. It’s a promise to give you our patronage. Every night for weeks. Months even, if necessary. It’ll be a win-win. We’ll buy a beer or two, and I bet we’ll find a lot of other bail jumpers while we wait for Sonny to show up.”
“Fishing in a barrel.” Despite his looming, tension-filled posture, John’s voice sounded light and amused.
“Exactly!” Molly gave his back an approving pat. “I like this idea. Never mind about giving us an address for Sonny. We’ll just wait for him here.”
“I’ll have you tossed out.” There was a barely audible quiver in Yolanda’s voice, and Molly felt a surge of triumph. This might actually work.
She gave a mocking laugh as she pointed at John. “You’re going to have him thrown out? Good luck with that. He’s at least a three-bouncer job, and that’s not factoring in his MMA training.” Leaning around him so she could get a little closer to the bar owner, she stage-whispered, “His cage name was Rampage.”
Because John was so close to her, she felt his tiny jerk of surprise, and she poked him to make sure he didn’t start laughing and ruin his faux notoriety.
Yolanda’s mouth drew even tighter, until her lips met in a sour pucker. “Sonny’s staying with Tick Caruso’s mother. Don’t know the address, but it’s on Westpeak Road, the blue house across from the old church. Now leave, and don’t ever come back to my bar.” With that, she spun around and stomped toward the back door.
Molly waited until the woman was inside and out of sight before stepping out from behind her John-shaped wall.
“Why didn’t she just walk inside through the hole?” he asked, waving toward the damaged wall, and Molly bit back a laugh, only a tiny snort of amusement escaping.
Giving him a light push toward the corner of the building, she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to get overconfident before they were safely driving away. Who knew what could be heard through the hole in the wall?
Once they were in the car and turning out of the lot, Molly held up her fist. John flinched theatrically, and she gave his shoulder a chiding shove. “Don’t leave me hanging, Carmondy. I’m celebrating our stunning teamwork back there.”
With a grin, he bumped her fist with his giant hand. “Agreed. I knew we’d be great together. Why haven’t you come to work for me yet?”
“Because I’d kill you in a matter of days,” she said matter-of-factly, even as she wondered if her long-held excuse was accurate. After all, she’d spent almost every second with him over the past couple of days and she didn’t have any homicidal urges. In fact, she was feeling almost…warm and mushy inside. Dismissing that as the residual high of getting a potential location for Sonny, she was distracted when John turned south rather than north toward Westpeak Road. “Uh…aren’t we going to pick up Sonny? We’re on a tight schedule if we want to get this wrapped up before noon.” As silly as that had seemed just a half hour earlier, now it felt almost possible that they’d be able to bring Sonny in soon.
“I need to swing by my place and change into some clean clothes,” he said, catching her full attention. Even though he’d just spent the night at her house—in her room—it still seemed like an intimate thing to see where he lived and what his furniture looked like and if he left dishes in the sink. She’d soon find out if he was the kind of man who forgot to put the cap back on the toothpaste. She blinked rapidly several times, trying to come to grips with that knowledge. She must’ve been quiet too long, because he shot her a questioning look. “I’ll be quick.”
If he just ran in, maybe she could stay in the car? The thought was both a relief and a letdown, and she forced her brain to quit obsessing over such a silly thing. “Oh, that’s fine. Sorry. I was just thinking about something else. Someone else. Sonny, to be exact—well, more thinking about what the best plan would be to bring him in, but…yeah.” What was she doing? Molly never babbled—well, hardly ever. Why was she falling to ridiculously jittery pieces at the thought of seeing John’s toilet? “Ugh.” She rubbed her face. “I need more sleep.”
He chuckled, and it sounded so normal that she relaxed, relieved that her weirdness hadn’t fazed him. “I’m feeling you on that. So what have you decided?”
For a paralyzed second, she couldn’t distinguish between her thoughts and what she’d just said aloud, but then she managed to sort out her answer. “Nothing concrete yet. We’ll need to go in quickly, before he can rig up any explosions.”
“Unless he already rigged them up, proactively.”
She made a face, knowing that John was right. “That is likely, isn’t it? Poor mother of Tick. Her house is probably going to have an extra hole or two by the time we get our hands on Sonny.”
“Mother of Tick sounds like a prayer…or a curse word.”
“I’m sure we’ll be using both before this is done.” She sighed, trying to get her thoughts in order. They needed a plan, a good one, or they’d end up getting exploded along with Mother of Tick’s house.
Making a sound of agreement, John pulled up to the curb and turned off the car. Curious and still a little apprehensive about the whole home visit, Molly peered out her window at the adorable little brick house. “This is yours?” she asked, opening her door automatically before catching herself. “Did you want me to stay in the car?” Contrarily, now that she’d seen the outside of John’s home, she was intensely interested in seeing the inside as well.
“Like a neglected dog?” he asked. Before she could decide whether that had been rude or not, he continued. “C’mon. Let’s get inside.”
As she climbed out of the car, she decided that she couldn’t let his comment go. “A neglected dog?” she repeated, her tone chilly enough to make him wince.
“I said I wouldn’t leave you in the car,” he explained, his expressive hands making circles as he tried to think of the right words. “I wasn’t calling you a dog or anything. I was saying that would make me a terrible owner—er…I mean, person—if I left you here to die in the heat of a closed-up car. See?” He grimaced, obviously knowing that he’d mucked up the explanation.
Clucking her tongue disapprovingly, she walked ahead of him to the adorable house, holding back her smile and letting him stew in his own awkwardness. It was rare to see John so flustered, and she wanted to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment out of the moment.
“Molly…” He drew out her name, sounding so tortured that she was tempted to relent. When he grabbed her hand and tugged her around, she stared at their interlocked fingers. Was John actually holding her hand? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to even imply that you were a dog or had any characteristics that could, in the tiniest way, ever be considered canine. I’m the useless, socially impaired mutt who manages to say exactly the wrong thing to you every single time.”
