Chapter Five
By the time they'd finished at the police station, Molly was ready to give up a life of decent citizenship and join the mafia for real. After an endless parade of detectives and uniformed officers and federal agents all asking the same damn questions, a deep ache settled into the base of her skull, matching the throbbing in her arm. She tried to tell herself they were just doing their jobs, that it was important that they were thorough. But goddamn. They recorded the interviews, couldn't the next interviewers just watch the last ones?
Except Molly knew the truth behind the seemingly endless stream of "statement taking." You didn't get to be Totality Torelli's daughter without facing prejudice from law enforcement. Lying to the Law had been the "L" in the ABCs of her childhood education. Molly would never lie to an officer. Well, not about anything important. Normally, she used her father as a moral barometer. However he'd respond, she'd do the opposite. Much to his dismay.
Still, cooperating with police didn't feel comfortable.
Late afternoon sun bounced off the tinted windows of the SUV and Molly shivered in the temperature controlled vehicle. Her memory wandered back to the surprise massage from Rafael. It had been the most sensual experience she'd ever had.
His hands were hot, easing the ache in her muscles, his strong fingers finding the perfect points to press and made a puddle in her panties. With him so close, hands on her body, she couldn't help but imagine where it could lead. Her bed had been right there, after all. The dress would've slipped off easily enough and he could've set the rest of her body aflame.
She wasn't imagining his interest. She'd noticed the bulge in his pants.
What didn't make any sense was her response to him. Molly had done a little dating through the years. She'd been around attractive people before. Never had she so thoroughly lost her mind to desire.
It wasn't the most appropriate time, either. Making moves on your bodyguard was probably taboo. How was she supposed to help herself around his lithe, muscled body and those sinful, bedroom eyes? Being around him turned her mindless with wanting and set an aching throb between her legs.
God, she was in a bad way.
The atmosphere in the car was tense and Molly shifted in her seat. Her brother rode in the passenger seat, next to Connor as the driver. Crawford had stayed at the station to do whatever it was scary looking federal agents did.
It was still unbelievable to her that Marcie secretly worked for the FBI and had been doing it for years. Not investigating their branch of the Family though, which was why she hardly saw him. How could he keep something like that from her? What kind of sister didn't notice her own brother was an undercover agent? Guilt and hurt feeling churned her stomach sour, unable to hide the truth. Her own brother was a stranger.
Eleven year old Molly would be appalled.
Marc kept himself busy on the phone for the car ride and she had the impression he was avoiding her. Would this whole hitman thing blow his cover? Had that pissed him off? It wasn't like she went out and got a hit placed on her on purpose. Angry tears pricked her eyes. If it were up to her, she'd be back at her studio, teaching her after-school hip hop class.
"Are you alright?" Rafael's gentle touch brushed across the back of her hand, startling her with an electric rush.
Such a feather-light touch, but what a reaction! The moment swept her away and it was all too easy to imagine those fingertips tracing up the length of her leg, vanishing under the skirt and stroking her. Skin to skin.
Molly blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sudden heat that flushed her. How could she answer his question and not sound desperate and horny?
"Yeah. I'm just...hungry."
As if in agreement, Rafael's stomach rumbled. Molly giggled and he grinned at her.
Connor glanced at them in the rearview mirror. "The safe house has some non-perishable staples, but nothing all that exciting. Once we're settled, I can make a food run."
"Oh, a burger and fries would be amazing." A flicker of embarrassment fluttered through her. Being a big girl wanting junk food had a tendency to draw dirty looks. But she'd been through too much crap already today. A person could only take so much stress before they needed a bit of comfort food. If Rafael couldn't deal with what she liked to eat, then there wasn't a future between them, anyway.
Molly's eyes went wide. What sort of thought was that to have? So he'd made flirty eyes at her a few times and popped a boner. That didn't mean he was going to risk his career to date a mafia girl like her.
Flirting must come naturally to a hot guy like him. His kindness toward her was just part of who he was and he'd leave whenever this job wrapped up.
She knew she was falling for him, that it would be a mistake to get any more involved. She didn't think she'd be able to stop herself, even if she tried. That was a future problem, though. She could deal with her broken heart later.
"Make that a double for me. And a milkshake." Rafael rubbed a hand over his taut belly and winked at her. "It's important to keep your energy up in times of stress."
Connor snorted as he pulled off the highway. "Stress. What do you have to be stressed about?"
"Hey, I'm a sensitive guy." He slipped his arm along the back of the seat behind her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I'm very sympathetic to the emotional state of the people around me. Particularly when those emotions lead to burgers."
Molly leaned back, enjoying the casual banter and some of her tension slipped away. She suspected they were trying to take her mind off the whole ordeal and she appreciated the effort.
The warm press of Rafael's arm against her shoulders wasn't bad, either. Given the circumstances, whatever there was between them could only be temporary. It felt so nice to be near him, maybe she didn't mind.
She glanced up in time to catch her brother watching them in the mirror. He frowned and Molly frowned right back until he looked away. Lord only knew what that look could mean.
A bruised part of her heart wanted to believe it was a sign he still cared about her. That somehow, the friendship they'd shared as kids had survived. But she'd had enough disappointment from the men in her life to know better than to expect anything to come of that hope.
Rafael and Connor debated the merit of various burger toppings. Rafael's laughter crinkled the skin around his eyes and her heart fluttered. Would Rafael be the same as the others? If she let him in—if he was interested in more than sexy fun times, that is—would he be another man that didn't care as much for her as she cared for him?
Was she so starved for attention that she was willing to throw herself at the first man to come along and show her the slightest bit of interest?
Maybe she should've packed her vibrator.
"Nearly there." Connor steered them through a residential neighborhood. Each house looked as bland as the next, all the same cookie cutter design. "When we arrive, Marc and I will check the house and review the security system. Molly, if you would, I'd like you to stay in the vehicle with Raf until we've swept the house. Most important is to remain in the vehicle until the garage door is shut. It's easiest to keep you safe if the people trying to find you can't verify where you are. Do you have any questions or concerns I can address?"
It was a little funny to see someone who, a second ago, had a heated debate about putting a fried egg on a burger, now being very serious and down to business.
"You mean besides why me? When is this going to end? What's the problem with wearing white after Labor Day? No, I'm good."
Rafael's hand came to rest on her shoulder, the pad of his thumb pressing circles into her tense muscles. The motion calmed and thrilled her in the same measure.
They pulled into the garage of one of the houses that sat further back from the others with a wide expanse of forest beyond the property. Parking in the dim interior of the garage, the door stuttered closed behind them. The scene was so bizarrely average that Molly had to hold back a nervous giggle.
How did her life get to a place where she was as likely to open the door to a girl scout as she was to a hitman?
The dome light in the car faded as Connor and her brother disappeared into the house. Out of nowhere, the thought that it was a trap came rushing to her mind. What did she really know about Connor and Animus Security, after all? What if he was leading Marcie into a trap? Then they'd have her alone and they could snuff her out, too. God, how could she let Marc go off alone with him?
"You know what I always wondered?" Rafael's hand rubbed back and forth along her shoulders. It was only then she noticed her heart was racing and her breathing had gone shallow.
Molly took a deep breath, leaning toward his warmth. "What's that?"
"If the temperature inside of a taun-taun is lukewarm."
She stared at him. A joke. He'd just made a joke, and a pretty nerdy one. She burst into laughter and it was so nice that she kept doing it. It was either that or cry. She was glad Rafael had given her a reason to laugh.
"I like your laugh," he murmured, and it suddenly seemed as though he was a lot closer than he had been before.
Her heart caught in her throat as her gaze dropped from the deep pools of his eyes to the wide line of his mouth. She felt suddenly small—not a sensation she was used to—as if the world had shrunk and expanded all at once. His grip on her shoulder tightened, making the muscles at his shoulders bunch and slide under his t-shirt. Unable to stop herself, drunk on the moment, Molly reached forward, tracing her fingertips along the hard planes of his chest. He breathed deeply, expanding under her touch and his head dipped into her hair, lips hovering above her neck.
Their contact stayed chaste, teetering on the knife edge of intimacy and she burned with wanting more. He pulled her in like gravity and she didn't want to resist. She tipped her head, baring her neck to him and silently begging for his kiss. Heart pounding in her chest, knowing in some way that this was wrong and not willing to do a damn thing to try and stop it Molly shifted until her leg pressed against his.
Ever so gently, as though frightened of breaking the moment, his lips pressed into the sensitive skin of her neck. Tongue trailing along her, breath hot against her skin. Molly trembled, hand clutching at his shirt.
The car door opened and Molly gasped, jerking herself away. Connor stood at the open door, silhouetted against the garage light. He grabbed her bag with one hand and extended the other to help her from the car, glaring at Rafael the whole time.
"Your brother is inside. He'll show you around. I need to talk to Raf."
Though his tone was gentle, he looked furious. Molly glanced between him and Rafael, her heart pounding in her chest. Good grief, she'd nearly made out with him in the garage of a safe house. With her brother in the other room.
Worse, she was more upset about being interrupted than she was about being caught necking.
She scrambled from the car, ignoring Connor's hand. She took the bag from him, unable to look at him knowing her cheeks must be bright red. After a mumbled thanks, she fled inside, fighting the urge to look back at Rafael. What did it say about her that a few hours after being shot at she was ready to jump the man's bones?
She pressed a hand to her neck where he'd kissed her. The memory of his touch shivered through her, the muscles in her stomach tensing in anticipation. It was easy enough to imagine those lips of his trailing lower as his hands slipped into the crossover neckline of her dress, stretching the fabric to expose her breasts.
By the time she found her brother in the kitchen, she was throbbing between her legs and ready to cry from exhaustion. The whole day was just too much, a confusing mix of terrible and wonderful things. Quite possibly, she was in the worst condition to decide to sleep with someone. Not that it would stop her if Rafael walked in and told her she had nice shoes.
Molly sighed and stretched her arm, hoping to at least change the pain if she couldn't ease it. It was a nice house. Not too big, but with an open floor plan that made if feel spacious. Dark hardwood floors contrasted with warm white walls. The decorations were sparse, but at least there were some. The place felt like a staged house, which, she guessed, it kind of was.
The little touches eased the tension. If she'd come in and found bare walls and a mattress on the floor, she'd almost rather take her chances with the hitman.
"Nice," she said to her brother, holding her bag against her chest with her good arm. "If I'd known an assassination attempt was going to get me such an upgrade in living conditions, I'd have taken out the hit myself."
Marc glared at her, dark eyes glittering and impossible to read.
"Jesus, that was a joke, Marcie. Once upon a time, you knew what those were."
Molly ducked her head, annoyed at the tears stinging her eyes. Marc was FBI and more of a stranger than he'd ever been and she wasn't sure they'd be able to fix whatever had broken between them. For reasons she couldn't fathom, someone wanted her dead. All of Donnell's beautiful, hand-painted windows were smashed to sand because she couldn't protect the legacy he'd left her. She desperately wanted to sleep with a man she didn't know, just to feel anything other than the turmoil raging in her heart. Even if it meant she'd fall for him, and she'd be nothing more than a convenient lay to him.
She'd never felt so alone.
Molly tried to sigh, but her breath hitched in her throat and one traitorous tear slid down her cheek.
"Hey," Marc said in a voice that was soft and—damn it—full of pity. He took a step toward her and she knew if he hugged her she'd lose it and start bawling.
She slid backward, the skirt of her dress swaying around her legs as she turned. Swiping a palm across her cheek, she shook her head.
"I'm just overwhelmed," Molly said, angry that her voice shook. "I need a nap and a cheeseburger and then everything will be fine."
A long silence stretched but Molly didn't look at him. She knew if she did it would break her. More than anything—except for Rafael, and that was a scary enough thought on its own—she wanted her brother back in her life. But not out of pity for a moment of weakness.
"Come on. This way." He walked past her down a short hall. His voice was back to being professional and impossible to read. Molly told herself she was glad to hear it.
"Take a nap," he said, like it'd been his idea. "Then we need to talk."
Molly walked into the room, gently closing the door behind her. Really, she wanted to slam it in his face. But that would be petty and her arm hurt too much to give it the force it would need.
She didn't notice much about the room other than it was dark and blissfully cool. Not bothering to change out her dress, Molly dropped her bag on the bed, grabbing a pillow she went over to curl up in the chair in the far corner.
Exhausted as she was, she didn't think she'd actually sleep. But above the memory of shattered glass and pain, above her fractured family, came the thought of Rafael. Strong and warm and looking at her like she was the sun. She imagined him spooning her, one well-muscled arm nestled between her breasts, the other pillowing her head and she drifted into a pleasant rest.