Chapter 3

At the loud pounding, Molly buried her head under her pillow and whimpered. It felt like she’d just dozed off after lying exhausted but wide awake in bed, stewing about her mom, feeling the usual medley of guilt and resentment and annoyance that encounters with Jane always inspired in her. Now, her eyelids refused to open, her brain fuzzy and heavy with the need to sleep, but whoever was knocking on the door wasn’t stopping. In fact, they were getting louder.

With a sound that was part growl and part pathetic whine, she lifted her head, prying her eyes open just enough to locate her phone where it sat on the bedside table. Even before she grabbed it, she knew it was much too early—barely dawn, judging by the dark gray cast of the light filtering through her bedroom window.

“Are you serious?” she croaked when she finally saw the time. Apparently, the visitor was serious, because the pounding on the door continued. “Five fourteen in the morning?” She also noticed that she had a whole slew of texts and calls, several from unknown numbers, and she realized that she’d managed to sleep through all the notifications. The latest text was from her mom, and Molly climbed out of bed, now fully awake. Of course Jane was the reason someone was trying to break down their front door at dawn. Of course.

Suddenly, the knocking stopped, and the faint sound of voices—one male and one female—took its place. Someone else must’ve been faster getting out of bed than she’d been. Now that some of the resentment of being woken so early had faded, curiosity was worming its way into Molly’s brain. She debated whether she should get dressed or not and finally decided not to miss any more of the action than she already had.

As she rushed downstairs, she skimmed through her new texts, and her apprehension grew at the same rate as her irritation. Her mom’s messages were typical of Jane, starting two hours earlier and ending forty minutes ago.

Need help. Car died. Pick me up in front of the parking ramp at 3rd and Josephine. Hurry.

In Cherry Creek.

Hurry.

Why aren’t you answering?

I can’t believe you’re going to abandon me in my time of need!

After refusing to let me use your car, too.

You’re a selfish child, Molly.

I can’t believe you’re ignoring me.

If you were in trouble, I’d immediately run to your rescue, no questions asked.

Pausing at the base of the stairs, Molly stared at her phone. Why had her mom been in Cherry Creek, an affluent section of Denver, at three in the morning? She kept reading but just got more and more confused with each text.

I had to move. Now in front of the mall.

This is your fault, you know.

I need you to call Lono. He’s ignoring me.

He’ll pick up if you call. You’ve always been his favorite.

Molly had to roll her eyes at that. Her dad was a smart guy, but he could be incredibly gullible when it came to Jane. After marrying and divorcing her twice, Lono had finally realized that he needed to put some space between himself and his ex-wife and moved back to Hawai‘i. Now he was married to someone else and had two small kids. Molly wasn’t exactly sure what help he could’ve offered to Jane an hour ago. After all, it wasn’t like he could swing by and pick her up when he lived a seven-hour plane trip away from Denver.

There were a few other texts from a different number, but Molly assumed Jane had switched to a friend’s phone.

Molly, call me.

Call me. It’s important.

“Molly.” Cara’s voice pulled her attention off of the screen. When Molly glanced up, her gaze fell on the man hulking behind Cara, and she almost dropped her phone.

“Carmondy? What are you doing here?” she demanded, resisting the urge to tug her sleep shorts down to cover a little more thigh. The hem of her tank top barely reached her hips, so that wasn’t much help. She now regretted her decision to stomp downstairs in her pajamas, and it irritated her that John could make her so self-conscious. With an effort, she kept her fingers away from her shorts and straightened her shoulders, even when she caught his gaze flicking down her bare legs ever so quickly before he focused on the phone in her hand.

“Your cell works, then?” he asked, the sarcastic edge to his words doubling her annoyance. Why was he peeved with her, when he was the one who’d shown up at her house at a completely unreasonable hour, pounding on the door just after she’d managed to fall asleep? To add insult to injury, Warrant was leaning against his legs, staring up at him with a look of complete hero-worship in his eyes. The way Carmondy was absently rubbing Warrant’s ears made things even worse, since it was hard to be aggravated when he was making her dog so happy.

“Did you come over here and wake up the entire house just to ask that?”

“I wanted to tell you over the phone, but you never called or texted back.” His voice rose in volume, still well below a shout, but it still made Molly blink in surprise. Even when they’d sniped at each other, he’d always seemed secretly amused. She’d never heard him sound so irritated.

“You texted me?” She glanced down at the screen even as she realized that the texts from the unknown number—the ones she assumed were from her mom using a friend’s phone—must’ve been John. It made sense, now that she thought about it. The terse texts were much too short, drama-light, and passive-aggression-free to have been from Jane. “How’d you get my number?”

His sigh rumbled out of him in a heavy gust. Apparently, he was all about the drama, after all. “Finding people is sort of what I do for a living. The question should be…why don’t you have my number?”

“Why would I have your number?” His offended expression almost made her laugh, but then she remembered how he’d just woken her up. “Carmondy. Why are you here?”

“What’s going on?” Charlie somehow made the entire question a yawn as she shuffled down the last few steps. Behind her, Norah looked equally sleep-rumpled but was alert enough to look wary. Molly barely had a chance to wonder where Felicity was when her youngest sister jogged down the stairs, looking ridiculously wide-awake—and avidly curious.

“I don’t know yet,” Molly answered. “Carmondy’s too busy bitching about my refusal to figure out his locker combination so I could leave him notes after algebra.”

There was a moment of silence as her sisters blinked at her.

“What?” Charlie finally asked.

Raising her hand to brush away her sisters’ confusion, Molly remembered her vow from the night before and dropped her arm to her side. Just to make sure she wouldn’t make any Jane-like gestures unconsciously, she grabbed her right hand in her left and held on tight. “Never mind. Carmondy’s about to tell us all why he’s here, banging on the door and waking innocent, hardworking bounty hunters.” She gave him her best stern glare. “This better not just be you stepping up your recruiting game, because this is not the way to change my answer.”

“Recruiting?” Felicity muttered. “Yeah, right.”

Although Molly was tempted to make her sister explain exactly what she meant by that, she kept her mouth closed, knowing that it’d be too easy to get off track again, stealing even more of her precious bed time. If she could get John out of the house in the next few minutes, she could get maybe an hour of sleep before she had to get up for good. With that motivation, she turned to John with an expectant look.

His gaze flicked over her sisters before returning to Molly. His hand left Warrant’s head, and the Great Pyrenees gave him a disappointed look before trundling toward the dog door leading to the backyard. Watching Molly closely, John finally answered. “Your mom’s in jail.”

There was an instant chorus of groans. “Again?” Charlie sounded exactly how Molly felt—disappointed but not surprised in the least. Jane had gone to jail more often than she’d attended any of their school events, and they had all grown up knowing the ins and outs of the entire criminal process, from arrest to court. That was one reason Molly had chosen to start a bail recovery business. Since they knew all of the players involved already, it had been easy to step into the industry.

“No wonder she was blowing up my phone last night.” Although she was pretty sure what the answer would be, she had to ask. “How’d you find out?”

“She texted me when she couldn’t get ahold of you.” He gave her phone another condemnatory glance. “Even your mom knows my number.”

He sounded so uncharacteristically pouty that she couldn’t hold back an eye roll. Normally, she’d try to be a little bit more polite, even with John Carmondy, but she was tired and it was early and she didn’t really care if he saw her mocking him. “If I save your number in my phone, will you leave now?”

He looked startled. “That’s it? Don’t you want to know which jail?”

“Not really.” She moved toward him, hoping to herd him out the door, but he didn’t move, which meant that they were now standing uncomfortably close. John seemed even bigger than usual, which made sense, since his broad chest was only inches from her nose. If only he didn’t smell so stupidly good, like leather and falling leaves and…was that bubblegum? Only he could make the slight whiff of sugar and strawberries seem attractive. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve backed up a step or two to reestablish her personal space, but this was John Carmondy, and she didn’t want to give up any ground to him. Even though she knew she was being irrationally stubborn, she couldn’t seem to help it. John brought out the teenager in her.

Cocking his head to the side, he looked down at her with a quizzical gaze. “Aren’t you going to call her lawyer?”

“She likes to represent herself.” That wasn’t quite true, but Molly really didn’t want to explain how her mom had either fired or alienated every lawyer in Langston and the greater Denver area—possibly in all of Colorado. Jane was stuck with either using a public defender—who had an enormous grudge against her—or defending herself in court. Still hopeful she might be able to get a little bit of sleep that morning, Molly plastered on the fakest of fake smiles. “Thanks for letting us know. It was very…helpful of you.” He didn’t move, and it got harder for her to hold her attempt at a polite expression. “We don’t want to keep you from your very early morning activities, so thanks again.” Still, he didn’t shift toward the door, and she seriously debated giving him a firm shove. The only reason she resisted was because she doubted it would have any effect. It was almost impossible to force a mountain into motion if he didn’t want to go anywhere.

The silence dragged out, and even her sisters—who usually wouldn’t stop talking long enough for her to hear herself think—didn’t say a word. The awkward tension reached a painful intensity, but Molly refused to say one more thing. This was all on John now.

Finally—finally—he spoke. “Save my number.”

“Sure.” Her quick agreement must’ve made him suspicious about her sincerity, because he tipped his head down and to the side slightly, as if to study her in the haughtiest way possible. John was such a weird mix of irreverent and arrogant. His mercurial personality kept her constantly off guard, as she never knew what his reaction would be. Her usual ability to come up with four different contingency plans on the spot often failed when she was dealing with John—although her trick with Warrant had worked rather splendidly. Leaning to the side to peer around his bulk, she looked at Cara, who still stood between John and the door. Catching her sister’s attention, Molly widened her eyes in a wordless plea.

Although she smirked slightly, Cara stepped up to help as she always did. “We appreciate you letting us know about Mom. Did you want some water or anything before you leave?”

No! Molly narrowed her eyes, shooting mental lasers and an abort mission! psychic warning that Cara either completely misinterpreted or ignored. By the tiny smile on her sister’s face, Molly was pretty sure it was the latter. Most of the time, Cara was as sweet as a soon-to-be kindergarten teacher should be, but her devilish streak popped out occasionally—usually at the worst possible times.

As he looked back and forth between Molly and Cara, John’s mouth flattened, either from irritation or an attempt to hold back a smile. It irked Molly that she couldn’t read him like she could most people. “No, but thanks for offering.” His words felt pointed as he directed his gaze toward Molly, but she just shrugged. If he wanted her to give him refreshments, then he should show up at a decent hour—with a less cranky attitude.

“I’ll get the door for you, then.” Cara moved through the living room toward the front entry. After a final piercing look from John, which Molly met with a blandly polite smile of her own, he followed Cara to the door.

They stood quietly as the door closed behind him, and Cara engaged the lock. Only after the low rumble of his car engine faded did someone speak.

“You’re so mean to him.” Of course it was Charlie. She usually couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying something snarky. “It’s both hilarious and a little heartrending.”

“Heartrending?” Molly knew she was in danger of being sucked down into one of Charlie’s rabbit-hole conversations, but it was better than having to discuss the fact that their mom was in jail…again. “Don’t feel bad for Carmondy. If he couldn’t take it, he wouldn’t always be popping up wherever I happen to be. What’s heartrending is that I’ve gotten about two hours of sleep total.” Even though she’d been hoping to be able to go back to bed, the conversation with John ensured that she’d be too wound up to sleep anymore. “If we’re going to stay up, let’s go into the kitchen. I need some coffee.”

“Nope. No coffee. Water.” Hurrying to make it to the kitchen first, Felicity started filling water bottles, keeping her body between Molly and the coffee maker. “Just because Mom’s in jail again doesn’t mean that you all can skip today’s workout.”

The chorus of groans that followed was louder than when John had told them that Jane had been arrested.

“But Fifi…” Charlie started, only to go silent when Felicity whipped out her fiercest glare.

“You get thirty extra seconds in plank position, just for calling me that.” Thrusting a filled water bottle at Charlie, Felicity raked the others with a stern glance. “Anyone else want to whine?”

Molly really did, but she knew better. Although Felicity was normally easygoing, she took her role as family physical trainer seriously, transforming into a merciless drill sergeant for an hour or so every morning. As soon as they were done working out, she turned back into her normal sunny self, as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped.

It wasn’t just fear of extra torture that kept Molly from complaining, though. “We need this if we’re going to be chasing down skips and wrestling them into submission.”

Tentatively, Norah lifted her hand. “Since I’m on research duty and won’t be chasing or…wrestling anyone if I can help it…may I be excused?”

“Me too,” Cara chimed in.

Felicity just glared silently at them until they both wilted and accepted the water bottles she held out. “Everyone benefits from exercise. I do this because I care about you. Tough love and all that. So go get changed and meet me on the back porch in five minutes. Don’t make me come find you and drag you out there.”

“It’s not tough love,” Charlie muttered, just loud enough for Molly to hear. “It’s mean love.”

Choking on laughter, Molly saw Felicity’s suspicious gaze turn toward her and quickly swallowed her amusement, regaining her straight face with an effort. “Let’s get this over with.”

As she hurried up to her bedroom to change into workout clothes, she felt a secret wave of relief. Although she didn’t admit it to her sisters, she was a tiny bit relieved that Felicity’s torture would keep her from thinking about anything except the pain in her lungs and muscles for the next hour. This way, stewing about her mom ending up in jail again—and John Carmondy’s front-row seat to their family’s dysfunction—would have to wait…at least for a little while.

* * *

Since Molly had been the last to finish their final sprint back to the house, she was stuck at the back of the line for the shower. By the time she was clean and dressed and walking back downstairs, the house was a lot quieter than it had been just a half hour earlier. Cara was the only one in the kitchen, sitting at the small table on her cell phone, her open laptop perched on top of a stack of files.

Raising an eyebrow at Cara’s sour expression, Molly made a beeline over to the coffee maker. Finally, she thought as she poured herself a mugful, sneaking in a sip even before she added her usual sugar and creamer. Although she made a face at the bitter taste, it was worth it. She could almost feel her exhausted brain cells perking up as the caffeine hit her system.

“I’ll let her know,” Cara said into her phone, still looking annoyed. The pinched expression looked strange on her sweet, girl-next-door face, with her round dimpled cheeks, wide brown eyes, and mile-long dark lashes. “Her answer isn’t going to be any different than mine, though.”

When Cara ended the call with a dramatic poke of her finger a few moments later, Molly gave her an exaggerated double-eyebrow lift over her mug in silent question.

“Barney.” The way she said his name made it sound like it tasted bad. “One of his clients skipped, and he wants us to take the job. I’ve already told him no, but I promised I’d check with you.”

“Barney?” Molly didn’t even need to hear the details. Just knowing the name of the bail bond agent was enough. “No.”

Cara’s mouth curled up in a smug smile as she tapped out a text. From the satisfaction in her expression, she was taking a great pleasure in turning Barney down. Molly didn’t blame her. Not only was Barney an amoral slug of a man who would frame his own grandma for murder if it earned him a buck, he was also condescending enough to make Molly want to punch him in the face every time they met. Even even-keeled Cara, who found something good in almost everyone, couldn’t stand Barney.

Curiosity niggled at her, so she waited until Cara had finished her text before asking, “Who was his skip?”

“Edison Zarver.”

Rearing back, Molly was shaking her head before Cara even got the last name out. “Sonny? Oh, hell no.”

“Right?” Cara gave her phone a disapproving look, as if Barney were able to see her. “There’s no amount of money in the world that’d be worth getting caught up in Sonny Z’s mess.”

Making a wordless sound of agreement, Molly pulled out the chair next to Cara’s. Even a few years ago, when their business was brand new and they’d had to scramble for every possible job just to survive, they’d known enough to stay clear of Sonny. Now that they’d established themselves and paid off the mortgage, they weren’t quite so desperate for work—and they definitely weren’t desperate enough to go after him. “What less life-threatening jobs do we have lined up for the week?”

Working a couple of files out from under her laptop, Cara handed them over. “Take your pick. Charlie’s already snagged the Nina Salas job, and Felicity’s going with her to Thornton today as backup. I have to finish a paper for school, and then I’ll take Fifi’s place, and she can pick up another job.”

Looking up from the first folder, Molly repeated, “Charlie took backup? Does she think there’ll be trouble?”

Cara made a so-so gesture with her hand before stealing Molly’s coffee mug and taking a sip. She made a yuck face. “Oh, wow. That’s gross. I always forget how sweet you make it.” Despite her complaints, she took another sip and grimaced again at the taste. “No trouble expected. Since it’d take one of us a while to get there, Charlie wanted someone close by, just in case.”

Reclaiming her mug, Molly held it to her chest protectively. “It’s not gross. It’s perfect.” At Cara’s skeptical grunt, Molly waved off her sister’s criticism. “I’m glad Charlie’s thinking ahead and showing some caution. Sometimes she acts so recklessly, it makes me think she’s missing the fear gene.”

“Yeah, although I think Felicity planted the idea of her coming along.”

“Go Fifi,” Molly said approvingly. “She may be the baby of the family, but she’s still smarter than the rest of us.”

“And the most tactful—except when she’s torturing us during workouts.”

Holding up her coffee mug in a silent toast to her diplomatic—and only occasionally sadistic—little sister, Molly turned back to the file in front of her. “What’s Norah working on?”

“She’s doing some research on Hans Miller.”

“Alone?” Molly frowned, surprised that Cara had let Norah go off by herself. Most of the time, talking to people’s friends, families, coworkers, and landlords wasn’t dangerous, but there was always a chance something might go wrong. Besides, Norah hated interacting with strangers…and acquaintances…and most people, really. Most of her contribution to their business was tech assistance.

“Settle down. It’s internet research. She walked Warrant to that coffee place she likes,” Cara said, looking a little offended. “First of all, I’d never send her out on her own to talk to people she doesn’t know, and second, she’d never do it even if I told her to.”

“True. Sorry. I should’ve known both of those things. I don’t think my brain is fully awake yet.” She took another sip of coffee to hurry it along.

“So…” Cara’s tone was tentative, and Molly’s spine stiffened, but she kept her gaze on the papers in front of her. She knew what was coming. “About Mom. Don’t you think we should find out where she’s being held?”

“No.” There was no give in her voice at all.

“Shouldn’t we at least find out what she’s done?”

With a negative grunt, Molly flipped over a sheet of paper with a little too much force. “I’m sure everyone we know will be all too gleeful to share that information. Look at how fast Carmondy ran over here to tell us she was picked up again.” As soon as the words were out, she felt a lurch of guilt.

“He wasn’t being spiteful,” Cara said, echoing Molly’s thoughts.

“I know.” Molly sighed, hating this topic of conversation almost more than the previous one. Thinking about John Carmondy made her…twitchy and warm and fidgety. Needing to do something with her hands, she turned over another sheet and stared at it without seeing any of the words. “Why do we still have paper files, anyway?”

“Charlie hates to read anything on her phone.”

Molly, relieved to be talking about something other than John Carmondy—or their mom—asked, “Why doesn’t she use her laptop, then?”

“She broke it.”

“No, not that one. The new one we ordered for her last month.”

Cara gave her a look. “She broke it.”

“The new one?” Her voice rose, ending in an indignant squeak. “She wrecked another laptop? How? When? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“It was last week, and she didn’t tell you because she’s a chicken and didn’t want to get into trouble. The only reason I know is that I saw the whole thing from my bedroom window. I tried to warn her, but she didn’t hear me until it was too late.”

“What happened?”

With a grimace, Cara explained, “She set it on the roof of her car and forgot it was there. It slid off, and she backed over it.”

Leaning back in her chair, Molly stared at the ceiling for several long moments. “No more computers for Charlie.”

“Strongly agree.”

“She’s already on phone probation. If she loses one more, she’s getting a used, twenty-year-old flip phone.”

Cara giggled at that. “She’s just gets really focused on tracking down skips and forgets to pay attention to other minor details.”

“Uh-huh,” Molly said dryly. “Minor details like expensive new computers and oodles of phones?”

“Exactly.” One corner of Cara’s mouth tucked in, showing off her dimple. It was the only indication of the smile that she was trying to hold back. Sometimes Molly marveled at how different Charlie and Cara were from each other. Although they were similar in looks, personality-wise, they were pretty much opposites.

Molly blew out a long breath, reminding herself that she was lucky to be able to work with her sisters. As different as they were, each one contributed something that the business needed…despite the occasional destroyed laptop.

“Guess we’re keeping the paper files, then.”

Cara’s snort was amused. “Seems like the cheapest way to go.”

They fell quiet as Cara worked on her laptop and Molly skimmed over the contents of the files…or tried to, at least. Her brain wouldn’t settle down, jumping from her mom’s situation to John Carmondy and back until she finally slapped the top file closed, her hand smacking against the table loudly enough to make Cara jump.

“Sorry,” Molly said sheepishly. Standing, she grabbed a file at random, put her coffee mug in the sink, and headed for the garage door, grabbing her backpack from a hook on the wall.

“I thought you were going to do paperwork today,” Cara said. “You’re not really dressed for chasing anyone. You need to pin that braid of yours up, or someone could use it as a handle. And that dress is no good. If you tackle someone, I guarantee you’re going to be flashing your panties to God and the neighborhood.”

Glancing down at her short sundress and sandals, Molly mentally debated whether to stay or head out, but she knew she’d be pacing the kitchen in minutes if she tried to focus on filing the business’s quarterly taxes. The idea of putting on boots, jeans, and a heavier shirt didn’t appeal, either. The day was already warm, and it wasn’t even mid-morning yet. It’d be way too hot for socks, much less denim.

“I promise to do my best to avoid any chasing, tackling, or flashing of my goods.” Making an X over her heart, she gave Cara a reassuring grin. “This is a new job. I’m just going to familiarize myself with the file and possibly check out the skip’s neighborhood. At the very most, I’ll chat with Sergeant Blake to see if she has any interesting tidbits she wants to pass on.”

“Fine.” Cara pursed her lips, somehow managing to look more like a kindly but stern schoolteacher than sour and prissy. “Don’t come crying to me when you have skinned knees and a video of your granny panties is up on YouTube.”

Molly tried for a sober expression, but she couldn’t stop the grin that wanted to break out. When Cara sounded like a crabby auntie, it always made her laugh. “I make no promises about that, although I’ll probably go crying to Norah instead, since she’ll know how to get the video taken down.” Pulling open the door to the garage, she gave Cara her best duck face over her shoulder and flipped her skirt up, showing a flash of underwear. “And I’ll have you know I’m wearing my sexiest Wonder Woman panties, so I’d be proud to show them off on YouTube.”

Cara didn’t look impressed. “So, basically, you’re wearing nerd granny panties.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Automatically, Molly hit the button on the wall to open the overhead door while digging in the front pocket of her bag for her keys. The motor hummed as the door started to raise, filling the small garage with light, and two things hit her at the same time.

Her keys were missing from her backpack.

And the garage was empty.