She nodded and did a slow circle, her eyes running over the entire place.
No paper trail. No computer.
Nothing.
“What now?” she asked softly.
“We come back,” Lucas said. “Your next shift. There’s got to be some point in the evening where this office is left unattended. Maybe during bingo. I’ll get in then.”
She looked over him. “Sounds dangerous.”
He shrugged. He’d been in far worse circumstances.
She just looked at him.
“What?” he asked.
“I don’t like the feeling that I’m putting you into a dangerous situation.”
He let out a low laugh. “You know the nature of some of the jobs we take on. This is nothing.”
“You’d better not get hurt. Not on my watch.”
He was torn between laughing again and fighting a sensation he didn’t quite recognize, but whatever it was, it sent a warmth through his chest. Been a long time since someone had worried about him. Well, okay, his family worried about him, but he did his best to keep them in the dark on the actual danger level of his job.
Molly knew. And she understood.
And she worried about him.
And it wasn’t just tonight either. Four nights ago, she’d caught on to the fact that he’d been out of commission after stupidly mixing pain meds and alcohol, and she’d personally taken on the matter of his safety by getting him home.
That was new for him. And not entirely unwelcome. He’d been feeling off since getting shot. Off and alone. But actually, if he was being honest, it’d been longer than that, a lot longer. He’d cut himself off from feeling too much after losing Carrie and then a few years later, his brother, Josh in an arson fire.
But he was feeling again now and he knew that was Molly.
What he didn’t know was what to do about it.
Back at the car, Molly closed her eyes with a tired sigh. “You’re staring,” she murmured.
When she’d climbed into the passenger seat, the little elf costume had crept up her thighs again. A very nice view, but mostly he was hoping she wasn’t in pain. She was, though, he could see it in the tightness around her mouth and eyes, but God forbid he reveal an ounce of empathy; she’d likely kill him. “Does it make me an asshole to tell you that I like the way you look in that costume?” he asked.
She let out a low laugh. “Well you’re honest at least.”
He started to ask what the “at least” meant but her phone rang. She answered and listened a moment. “Joe, I can’t take tomorrow night for you. I told you that already, I’m working on something—” She paused and sighed. “So let me get this straight. You’ve got a really great girlfriend and she’s taking you on some fantastic mystery surprise date tomorrow night with the promise of God knows what afterward and you figured what the hell, Molly doesn’t have a life, I’ll get her to take my night. Is that it?”
Lucas winced for Joe.
“No, really,” Molly said in that same conversational voice. “By all means, let me help you make your already awesome, amazing life even better. I’ll handle it.” She disconnected and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “Don’t,” she said quietly.
“Don’t what?” Lucas asked.
“Tell me I’m not nice. I already know it.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Because I am nice?” she asked dryly.
“Because you already know you’re not nice.”
At that, she snorted.
“And Molly? You do so have a life.”
She opened her eyes and met his. “You think so, huh?”
“Yes. You have a lot of good friends, and you’re always doing things like girls’ night out and shopping and spa stuff. And you have a good job that keeps you busy, and a family you care about.”
“I do have good friends,” she agreed. “But I don’t let any of them too close because I’m bad at that. And my job isn’t fulfilling me, which has me chasing down a bad Santa that no one but me thinks is bad.”
“I think he’s bad,” he said.
She sighed. “Thanks.” And then she closed her eyes again.
“And your family,” he said carefully.
“What about them?”
He didn’t know much and he wanted to know more. In fact he was surprised by how badly he wanted that. But prying with Molly had never worked. She didn’t like questions. “You say you don’t let anyone too close. But you’re close with Joe, even when you’re yelling at him.”
“We’re close because we’ve had to be, you know?”
“Actually, no,” he said. “I don’t. The only person more closed-mouthed about yours and Joe’s past is Joe.”
She let out a low laugh and shrugged. “It’s a lifelong habit,” she admitted. “Mostly because there’s not all that much to say. We’re really not all that different from anyone else.”
He glanced over at her dryly.
“Okay,” she said on a low laugh. “So we’re a little closed off and maybe kinda hard to get to know, and not always . . . welcoming. But until Joe fell in love with Kylie a few months ago, it’s been just him and me against the world, sharing custody of our dad.”
“Don’t you have that backwards? You mean your dad had custody of you guys?”
“No.” She turned and looked out the window, giving him the back of her head. “We take care of him, always have.”
He resisted the urge to run a hand down her hair because she would take that as pity when what he really wanted to give was comfort. “How long ago did you lose your mom?”
“She died when I was a few years old. My dad was in the military. He came back from the gulf war to be with us. Only he wasn’t . . . the same. He had PTSD, though no one really knew it back then. He could manage to hold it together for a while, but then he’d lose it.”
“Did you have other family to help?”
“No, but we did okay. It wasn’t until I was around ten that he stopped being able to work entirely. And he needed caring for. So that’s what Joe and I did.”
Lucas tried to imagine this. He’d had a mom and a dad, both extremely active in all their kids’ lives. He’d had his siblings and cousins to keep him in line. He hadn’t lost Josh until four years ago. So he had absolutely zero experience to compare Molly’s childhood to. “Must’ve been rough, growing up like that.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know any different.”
That she didn’t appear to know about his brother’s death meant she hadn’t made use of Hunt’s computer programs to look him up. If she’d wanted to, she could discover how many fillings he’d had when he was eight. Or that in eleventh grade he’d gotten caught with the vice principal’s daughter in the janitor’s closet. Or that when he was twenty-four, his fiancée, Carrie, had died in a car accident and he’d missed her funeral because he’d been so deep undercover for the DEA at the time no one could reach him.
Or that when he’d lost his firefighter brother a few years later to an arson fire, he’d checked out of life for a good year, losing his job at the DEA while he was at it. Not that he’d cared much at the time. The memories of those gut-wrenching days always threatened to send him back to the deep, dark pit of hell he’d landed in. It was getting slightly easier to remember, but only slightly, and that in itself caused a setback because forgetting the pain meant he was forgetting Josh and he didn’t want to ever forget.
Molly put her hand on his arm and it was the oddest thing, but even though she didn’t know what she’d stirred up inside him, her touch settled him.
The drive home was quiet after that. Usual for him. Extremely unusual for Molly, who normally couldn’t do quiet to save her own life. He glanced over at her several times, but she seemed quite content to let the silence keep them company. “You good?” he asked.
She nodded.
He’d grown up with a nosy older sister and an even nosier mom. He knew when a woman was full of shit, but he also knew better than to call her out on it. “Hold up,” he said, reaching for her hand and holding onto it when he stopped in front of her place and she tried to hop out.
“No need. ’Night,” she said, looking to suddenly be in a hurry to escape him. That, or she didn’t trust herself—most likely wishful thinking on his part.
“I’m walking you up,” he said.