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Trace said, almost gently, “Because he’s like my brother.”
“Agh!” Jess craned her head around him, barking at me. “Talk.”
Trace sighed.
I smiled even wider. That was the worst thing to say to me.
“Now he’ll go on a whole tangent that has nothing to do with anything, and he’ll do it because you just ordered him to do something he was already going to do.” Trace came over, took my drink, and went to refill it. He brought it back, then sat on one of the couches across from me. “Come and sit, Jess. Ashton, stop needling my woman, or I’m going to take it personal pretty soon. You both seem to have forgotten that we have limited time before a certain female might wake, and then our discussions will come to an abrupt end. Remember?”
If he meant to chide us like we were children, it worked.
“You’re right.” I shot Jess a look.
The back of her neck was getting red, but she clamped her mouth shut, walking over and sitting next to Trace.
I almost grinned but sighed because the fun was over. “The usual ways we get answers weren’t working, so I tried a different method.” Both were watching, waiting. “I sent Marcus Easter out.”
“You sent Shorty out for you? He’s not loyal to you. He was loyal to your grandfather.”
I held up a hand, halting Trace. “He was properly motivated. He has no idea it was for me. I used someone as my front—”
“He used me.”
The words came from the stairs, and they were quiet. Almost weak.
My stomach took a plunge, but I was up and crossing the room before Jess and Trace could comprehend that Molly wasn’t in bed. Molly was here. She was sitting on the stairs, just out of eyesight. She had a blanket wrapped around her, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were big and wide but hurting. Dark bags were smudged underneath them. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it.
Jesus.
She looked like a scared teenager, so young and as if she’d waded into a world she’d not been prepared for.
I hated it.
I hated it because this was my fault, her father’s fault, her mother’s fault, my mother’s fault. It was all of ours, but swallowing a curse, I went and squatted in front of her. I patted my thighs. “Come on.”
She moved in a flash, like a spider monkey. She came in, wound her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, and I stood, a hand on her ass to keep her in place. She got even tighter to me, burrowing her head into my neck.
Both of us sighed at the contact.
Fuuuuuck.
This was bad, so fucking bad. One touch and I felt right with her in my arms.
This hadn’t been in the plans.
But I couldn’t get myself to stop holding her.
Trace was watching me more intently than he ever had before, and I was ignoring him, more than I ever had been, moving back to the couch and sitting. Molly moved to sit sideways on my lap, her head still against my chest, so she could see Trace and Jess.
“Molly.” Jess gave her a smile. All the hostility from earlier was gone. “How are you feeling?”
Molly stretched her leg out, just a bit, shifting and getting more comfortable. “I’m okay. It’s—I’ve had guns pointed at me before, but this one was a first. Never had it against my head.” She gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m a little embarrassed, but I’m okay. Really.”
Jess was skirting between Molly and me. “Do you want something to eat? Drink? We can go up and I can make you broth?”
“No.” Molly’s tone was firm. She sat up a little straighter too. “I want to hear this.” She looked at me, her eyes determined. “My dad stirred this up. I’m going to hear this.”
I swallowed, reading her right. She wasn’t going anywhere.
I gave in, a small nod, and she relaxed.
Jess’s head was inclined forward, her mouth parted. “Wha—okay then.” She jerked back in her seat.
Trace was trying to contain a laugh and failing. He looked down, his shoulders silently shaking.
“Glad to bring some entertainment tonight.”
Trace looked back up at me, his face wiped clean, but the amusement was still in his gaze. “Can you blame me?” He indicated Jess.
No. I couldn’t. I thought it’d been hilarious when he fell for a cop. PO, whatever. They were all the same in my eyes. Law enforcement.
“Ashton.”
“Mmmm?” I looked down at Molly.
She’d tipped her head up to me. “Tell us what the fuck’s going on.”
Jess started laughing, but I did as Molly commanded.
I told them everything, or mostly everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MOLLY
I was watching from the bed as Ashton moved around the room, sweats on, a T-shirt not hiding how very toned he was. Shock and trauma aside from being shot at and everything else, man, the man had muscles. He was the definition of muscle definition. And those sweats were dipping so nicely low on his hips.
