Page 78 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

“And he ended up being as upset as me when I told him the dream.” She paused again to rub her arms like she was cold even though she wore a sweater. “It was about Greg Schulte drowning and crying out for my help, although I didn’t know for sure if it was Greg until I saw the picture from Brec’s dad’s album.” She sucked in another deep breath, as if for strength. “And this was before Brec found Greg’s necklace during his dive.”

“Wow.” Gaze trailing into a stare, Sloan tunneled a hand through his hair, disrupting it even further.

“Yeah. And that’s not all. I also dreamed in that same nightmare that someone was trying to smother me with a towel”—a shiver rippled her body—“which is exactly what happened today at Pete’s.”

Schooling his emotions to avoid overplaying his hand, he gently grabbed both of her arms. “Molly, there is nothing silly about this. You obviously have a gift that every detective alive would love to have, myself included. So I want you to promise me you will always let me know when you have one of these nightmares, all right?”

She nodded with another tug of her lip, and against his better judgement, he bundled her in his arms, breathing in the clean lemon scent of her hair. “Molly, as little as Brec and I see eye to eye when it comes to you, I am solidly behind him on this. This case is not put to bed yet, so until it is, you need to take great precautions with your safety as well as keeping me informed of any premonitions you might have, all right?”

She nodded again.

“All right.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and sat back, ducking to peer up into her face. “Now tell me exactly what happened at Pete’s.”

And so, releasing a heavy sigh, she did, the whole awful tale, and it took everything in him to sit there quietly and listen, keeping his face and tone calm despite the emotions roiling inside.

When she was done, he exhaled part of his tension. “Haven’t seen Harley around for a while because he’s been doing a stint at the Coastal State Prison, I heard, but he’s like a bad penny—keeps showing up. But this time, we can put him away for a good long while, Molly, because attempted murder carries a heavy penalty, especially since he has a rap sheet a mile long.”

She sat straight up, brow crinkled. “I almost forgot! Is Pete okay?”

“I don’t know because I raced straight here ahead of my officers.” He glanced at his watch. “But we should know by now, so I need to go.” He took her hand in his, tone gentle. “Will you be okay alone?”

She attempted a smile that came off both brave and wobbly all at the same time. “Sure. I think I’ve gotten most of my spazzing over with, I hope.” It was her turn to check her watch. “And Brec called after I spoke to you and insisted on coming right home from his soccer practice, so he’s on his way as we speak.” She looked up with a crooked smile, true affection sparkling in those blue eyes that bothered Sloan more than he liked to admit. “He freaked out because I was crying. Unlike you, Detective Kennedy, a consummate professional.”

“Don’t bet on it,” he said with a return smile. “You took at least five years off my life with that call, Molly Stewart. Gotta go.” Giving her nose a playful tap, he rose, and she followed suit. “But when Brec comes, I need both of you to stay here, understood? Let me handle this, then I’ll call to give you an update, all right?”

“All right. But I can’t thank you enough for being there for me, Sloan,” she said, looking up at him with a warmth he hoped contained at least a hint of hero worship. He could certainly use it to balance out the advantage McGill had living in the same house with her.

“Sure you can, Molly,” he said softly, gently sweeping her silky hair over her shoulder, letting his fingers linger. “Keep yourself safe and that’ll be thanks enough.” He could almost feel the heat smoldering in his gaze as he slowly tugged her into his arms while the whites of her eyes grew, the desire to kiss her so strong, he knew she felt it too. But thank God the “consummate professional” in him rose to the occasion to only envelop her in a hug. He sure didn’t want to rush her, but the desire to hold her a little longer trumped any professionalism he might have, and closing his eyes, he held on tight for several moments, his head tucked against hers.

“Ahem.”

The gruff sound from the door catapulted Molly out of his arms as she let out a tiny squeak of shock, palm to her chest. “Oh my goodness, Brec, we didn’t hear you!”

“Obviously.” McGill closed the front door behind him a little too hard, his anger all but shimmering off of his body. He jerked his jacket off and hurled it on one of the hooks by the door. “Didn’t think I had to knock at my own house.”

“No, of c-course n-not,” she stuttered, slapping her hair over her shoulder before tugging her T-shirt down, as if she felt the need to put herself to rights. “Sloan was just leaving.”

“Heck of a detour.” Brec’s jaw looked like rock as he stared them down, and Sloan’s irritability quotient rose along with his temper.

“She called me for help, McGill,” he said in the deadly calm voice he reserved for suspects, druggies, and people he didn’t like.

Definitely the last one.

Sloan’s jaw calcified like Brec’s. “And I was a lot closer than you with a lot more training.”

Brec took a step forward, eyes blazing like wildfire. “They train you in seducing victims, do they?”

“Brec, stop it!” Hand out, Molly moved in front of Sloan. “You’re acting like a child.”

Sloan had enough. He prodded Molly aside, the tic in his jaw keeping time with McGill’s. “Last time I looked, McGill, you’re the friend, and I’m the one she’s dating, so you need to re-evaluate.”

“I’ll re-evaluate all right …” Fists clenched, Brec stormed forward.

“Stop it!” Molly shouted, hurrying to halt McGill in his tracks with two palms to his chest. “You touch him, Soccer Boy, and he’ll throw your butt in jail, and I’ll cheer him on.”

Burning Sloan with another nasty glare, Brec bumped past him to stalk into the kitchen with a hard clench of his jaw, hurling the refrigerator door open, hopefully for something cold to cool him off.

“I’m sorry about this, Sloan,” Molly whispered as she walked him to the door, shooting a quick glance into the kitchen before giving him a brief hug. “Keep me posted about Pete, okay? And thank you again.”

“Anytime, Molly.” Out of sheer meanness, he tugged her into another lingering hug, then opened the door. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” She offered a conciliatory smile before the door clicked behind him.

Jaw taut, he strode to his vehicle, disturbed over McGill’s obvious interest in Molly. Because that meant if he lost out because of McGill? His mouth tamped into a tight line.

The next nightmare could be his.