Thirteen
Sunlight beat down on Norah’s eyelids, making it impossible to fall back asleep. Prying open her eyes, she blinked at her wall clock until it came into focus. It was two in the afternoon, but her stiff and sore body didn’t think she should move. Thirst and a demanding bladder forced her out of bed though, and she knew her sisters were going wild waiting for an explanation.
When she’d dragged herself into her house in the wee hours that morning, bruised and jacked up on adrenaline and smelling like smoke, her sisters had demanded she tell them the whole story. She’d managed to get them to wait until she’d had a shower and a few hours of sleep, but midafternoon the next day was probably pushing it. Norah figured they’d be barging into her room at any moment to hammer her with questions.
To her surprise, they waited until she stumbled into the kitchen. Cara even handed her a mug of hot coffee. Norah’s thank-you came out as more of a grateful groan.
“Are you okay?” Molly asked, always the mother hen.
Norah did a mental self-check. Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, every muscle in her body ached, but nothing felt broken or in danger of falling off. She’d discovered a few tiny cuts on the backs of her arms and calves—from flying glass, she assumed—when she’d checked herself over in the bathroom after her shower. They’d stung when the hot water had hit them, but they’d stopped bleeding by the time she’d discovered them. Her throat still felt raw from the smoke, and her knee was sore from hitting someone’s face, but overall, she was surprisingly fine. “Yes,” she answered truthfully.
“What happened last night?” Cara leaned forward in her chair.
Molly was standing propped against the counter, but Norah had a feeling her sister would be stress pacing before she got too far into the story. She figured it’d be easiest to just rip off the bandage and get the worst part out first.
“Someone broke Dash’s apartment windows with rocks and then threw in gasoline bombs, setting his place on fire.”
As her sisters goggled at her wordlessly, she remembered there’d been several other pretty bad parts that night.
“Then someone tried to grab me on the stairs, but I kneed them in the face.” She was inordinately proud of that. “It felt hard yet weirdly wet and squishy, but Dash told me just to wear pants next time.” That reminded her of something else that had gone wrong. “I’m going to have to tell Felicity I ruined her dress. It smells of smoke and probably has someone’s spit on it.”
“You…what…gasoline bombs?” Although she still wasn’t very coherent, at least Molly was managing to get words out now.
“Yes.” Blocking out the memory of exploding glass bottles and fire licking across Dash’s floor and over his bookshelves, Norah kept her mind firmly on the technical term. “Also known as Molotov cocktails or bottle bombs. Petrol bombs too, but I think that’s more a European term.”
With each synonym, Molly’s eyes grew wider and wilder.
“Uh…you might want to quit listing off bombs,” Cara suggested with an uneasy eye on Molly’s face.
Rather than explain she was talking about different names for the same type of incendiary device, Norah just gave a nod and continued, wanting to get all the bad parts out at once. “Also, if Detective Mills reads the police report, we might’ve blown the whole fake-boyfriend story, since I was at Dash’s place.”
“Eh…” Looking moderately calmer, Molly waved a hand, dismissing the last concern. “That’s minor. Let’s discuss the rest of it. Like the bombs and the fire and the part about you being attacked! ”
Norah realized she’d been a bit premature thinking Molly had calmed down. “Um…okay.” She figured she’d hit the important points, so she hesitated before asking, “What else did you want to know?”
“Ev-er-y-thing,” Cara said, drawing out the word into four definite syllables. “From start to finish. Who did this? Were they caught? Arrested? Is Dash okay? What happened exactly ?”
Norah tried her best to fill in the details. “We were talking on Dash’s couch…” She paused for a split second, expecting one of her sisters to make a suggestive comment, but they were both silent, listening intently with serious expressions. That really brought home how upset they were about the whole thing. “Someone threw a rock through the living room window. Dash turned off the lights and looked outside but couldn’t see anything, since they’d apparently broken out all the lights in the alley. Then another rock came through the kitchen window, so Dash ran out to try to catch them. When he got outside, someone bashed him in the back of the head.”
Both of her sisters winced. “Is he okay?” Cara asked.
“Yes. The paramedics took a look.” Norah’s stomach twisted with remembered worry. Dash was so stoic she could see him saying he was fine, even if he had to carry his decapitated head around under his arm. “He didn’t lose consciousness, just was dazed and distracted for a few minutes.”
“Long enough for whoever it was to start throwing bottle bombs through those broken windows?” Molly asked grimly, and Norah nodded, glad she didn’t have to cover that horribly scary part in detail.
“So I tried to put out the fires, but the extinguisher was too small to do much good.” She very firmly kept her mind focused on the unemotional facts of the story rather than allow herself to relive every terrifying moment. She was rather proud that her matter-of-fact tone didn’t waver. “I left the apartment, closing the door behind me to keep the fire from spreading into the stairwell too quickly. At the top of the stairs, someone grabbed my wrist. I thought it was Dash at first, but then my eyes started to adjust to the darkness, and I saw they were too short and not…”
“He-Man shaped?” Cara offered, making Norah huff a surprised laugh.
“Pretty much.” The moment of levity, even as short as it was, relaxed her enough to continue. “I remembered Dash showing me how to move in closer if someone grabs me rather than pulling back—”
A pained sound from Molly interrupted her retelling.
Norah eyed her sister uncertainly. “Should I go on or…”
“Just let me finish mentally dismembering someone,” Molly muttered.
Norah met Cara’s raised-eyebrow look with one of her own.
After a final deep, audible breath, Molly dropped her hands and stood straight, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. “Okay, I’m good now. Please continue.”
“Uh…okay.” Despite her sister’s reassurance, Norah gave Molly a careful look before picking up her story where she’d left off. “So I elbowed the guy and then stomped his foot, which didn’t do much since I was barefoot and he wasn’t—”
This time, Cara was the one who interrupted. “I thought we agreed after I was kidnapped in my socks that we’d wear shoes all the time except in bed?”
“I didn’t want to wear shoes in Dash’s apartment. It was really clean, and that would’ve been rude.” It had been clean. Norah didn’t want to think about the state of it now.
“Why didn’t you put them on when you left?” Cara asked.
She seemed a bit stuck on the shoe thing, but Norah understood. If she’d been forced to run sock-footed from her kidnappers in a semiarid high-plains landscape with rocks and cacti and other sharp things, Norah would probably have a shoe-wearing obsession too.
“It was dark.” She didn’t want to go into any more detail about the heavy smoke that stung her eyes and made seeing even the doorway impossible, much less her flats. “I didn’t want to stay in a burning apartment hunting for them.”
“Good point,” Molly said, seeming to be fully recovered from her earlier mental murder spree. “I think escaping the burning building had priority in this situation.”
“Fine.” Cara gave a grudging nod. “But next time, just wipe your feet really well before you go into someone’s house rather than taking off your shoes.”
Norah hesitated, not sure she could make that promise, and Molly waved her arms in an exaggerated move on motion.
“Okay, so I pulled the person’s head down and kneed them in the face.” Viscerally remembering how that had felt, Norah gave a little shudder. “They let go, so I ran down to the gym and met Dash at the outside door.” She didn’t want to say anything about how he’d held her or how she’d felt safer than she’d ever experienced before, so she quickly skipped ahead. “We went outside, and the police and fire department arrived soon after. I didn’t recognize the cops, but they seemed halfway decent. Better than Detective Mill at least. I think they would’ve arrested whoever it was if they’d caught them throwing bottle bombs.”
“How low our law-enforcement standards have fallen,” Molly said mournfully before refocusing on the events Norah had just laid out. “So you didn’t get a glimpse of who was responsible?”
“No.” Norah felt a pang of guilt for that. “Not even the stairway person. It was so dark that I was barely able to tell the police an approximate height and build—oh, and the texture and length of his hair when I grabbed it.”
“Plus he’ll have a broken nose or fat lip,” Molly added, and Norah felt that same spurt of pride for successfully taking on an opponent. “Or a black eye, depending on where your knee landed.”
“It has to have been Zach and his buddies, right?” Cara asked. She’d pulled her laptop toward her and was frantically typing what Norah assumed were notes. “He’s got to be holding a pretty big grudge after being knocked out, dragged over to Mr. P’s house, and arrested.”
“That would explain why Dash was targeted.” Moving so she could see the screen over Cara’s shoulder, Molly tugged her bottom lip as she read what Cara was typing.
“The person on the stairs was too small to have been Zach.” Norah paused, hesitating to say anything, since it seemed a little egotistical to think that everything was targeted at her, but she knew there was a chance it hadn’t been Zach after all. “What about Leifsen? He left that note in my pocket when he saw me and Dash together at Dutch’s.” She left out the dancing part of that story, since Molly and Cara appeared to have recovered enough from their worry to resume their usual teasing. “And we still don’t know who left that pen from Dash’s gym on my bed.”
“Hmm…” Molly moved her gaze from the computer screen to Norah’s face. “Good point. Do you think they’re working together?”
“Um…” Although she hated the pressure of putting forth theories that might be entirely and ridiculously wrong, she preened a little at being asked her opinion. She’d always been part of the business, but that part had—until very recently—been in the background. That had been where she’d wanted to be, so she didn’t have any resentment toward her sisters about that, but now it seemed like a whole new path was opening up to her. “Maybe? I can search for any connections.”
“Leifsen was arrested for deactivating security systems for a burglary ring,” Cara said, her voice sounding distracted as she spoke and typed at the same time. “That might be a good place to start searching for a link between those two.”
“Good idea.” Molly gave a nod. “Let’s come up with a list of Zach’s usual accomplices and try to get a glimpse of each of them before the bruises fade. We need to see whose face is messed up.”
Norah felt another little pleased glow, this time because she might’ve left evidence behind, a trail they could follow.
“Did you feel anything break?” Molly asked. “Nose? Maybe knock some teeth loose or out?”
“Maybe?” Norah ran the knee strike through her mind again, ignoring the squelch of distaste at the memory. “I think I hit their nose, not their mouth, and I thought I heard a crack.”
“Doctors then.” Cara’s typing turned to tapping on the touch pad. “ENTs or plastic surgeons, do you think? Maybe ERs?”
Molly’s reply was interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door. “Cop knock,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Unless it’s John, but he’s not supposed to be back until tonight.”
“He has a cop knock?” Cara asked, her voice hushed as she stared in the direction of the front door.
“Yeah.” Molly moved toward the kitchen doorway, and Norah got up to follow. “He has a really nasty cop knock. I keep telling him he needs to work on that, but he doesn’t believe he has one.”
Cara closed her laptop and rose, staying close behind Norah. “The worst offenders can never hear their own cop knock.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Molly peered through the peephole just as another round of thunderous knocking made the door shake. “Uggghhhh.”
“Who is it?” Norah was pretty sure her sister wouldn’t make that noise upon spotting her own boyfriend at the door.
“Our good friend Detective Mill.” Moving to the alarm display, Molly disarmed it.
Cara looked at the door in distaste. “Can’t we just hide and pretend we’re not home?”
“I can hear you girls in there!” Mill’s shout through the door answered Cara’s question. “Open up, or I’ll get another warrant.”
“I’m almost tempted to let him, but then we’d have to actually allow him in,” Molly muttered before jerking open the door just wide enough to block his view into the house. “Why, Detective Mill, what a pleasure! What brings you here to see us girls ?”
Even though he probably couldn’t see her where she was standing, Norah bit the inside of her lip to hold back her smile at Molly’s heavy sarcasm.
“I need to talk to Norah Pax,” he said, and she lost any urge to smile.
“Why?” Molly demanded, but Norah knew why. They all knew why after the conversation they’d just had.
“You’re not Norah, so that’s none of your business.”
“It’s okay, Molly.” Norah had known since the previous night that she’d be answering Mill’s questions. She figured she might as well get it over with so Mill didn’t get a warrant or pick her up the next time she left the house and bring her to the station as a “person of interest.” At least at their house, she was somewhat in control of the situation, and she had her sisters there with her for support. Slipping past Molly, she ignored her sister’s sound of protest and stepped onto the porch.
The move brought her face-to-face with Mill, and she was instantly uncomfortable. Resisting the urge to shrink back or drop her eyes, she took a couple of steps sideways toward the porch swing.
“You’re Norah Pax?” he asked, following her, which opened up enough space for Molly and Cara to step outside as well. They shut the door behind them, and Norah swallowed a sour taste at how accustomed they were to getting questioned by the police and one grudge-holding detective in particular.
“Yes,” she said, his flat stare making her realize she hadn’t answered him.
“You called that fire in last night.” Although he said it as a statement, not a question, she still shook her head. “You didn’t call it in?”
“Not the fire.” Even though she knew she was being pedantic, she couldn’t let something not quite true slide. “I told the dispatcher about people throwing rocks through the windows, but I dropped my phone before the fire started. Someone else must’ve seen the flames and called in the fire. Or Dash thought the dispatcher might’ve heard the explosions before my phone was burned up.”
Molly muttered something inaudible, and Norah gave her arm an awkward pat of reassurance. From listening to her sisters’ harrowing stories, she knew how hard it was to hear about them being in danger. It had to be even worse for Molly, since she’d always been the one to take care of the rest of them.
Mill blew out a breath as if he was already frustrated with the interview. Norah just blinked at him innocently. If he didn’t want the truth, he shouldn’t ask her questions. “Dash as in Dashiell Porter, the guy who supposedly stopped a burglary at your neighbor’s last Sunday?”
“Yes.” It was easier to hold his gaze when they were talking about Dash. It felt as if she was defending him rather than herself, which brought out her bravery for some reason. She even gave a small, proud smile at how he’d covered for them. “That’s the same Dash.”
“I thought you two didn’t know each other.”
Ignoring the skepticism heavy in his words, she put on her best confused face. “Of course we do. I belong to his gym.”
“Uh-huh. What happened to your story that you were dating his employee?” He glanced down briefly at his small notepad as if checking his notes. “ Bruiser Davies.”
This was the question she’d been dreading, but it was surprisingly easy to answer now that all her hackles were up in defense of Dash. “Watching Dash handle that burglar on Sunday made me…want to get to know him better.” She heard Cara’s soft exhale. It was only because she knew her sister so well that Norah could tell she was attempting to stifle a laugh. Norah tried not to blush as she replayed her last sentence in her head. From how her face warmed, she didn’t think she succeeded very well.
“What about Davies?” It was hard to tell if the detective believed her. Mill had a decent poker face. “How does he feel about you just dumping him for his boss?”
“We weren’t serious,” Norah said, being careful to stay truthful while implying something else. She knew she was a terrible liar, and the detective would call her out immediately if she tried. “Bruiser’s fine with it.”
“Pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?” He folded his arms across his chest.
A few weeks earlier, Norah might’ve been intimidated by the man’s authority and size, but steady exposure to the much bigger and gruffer Dash had inured her to large, scary men—even ones who could potentially arrest her.
“What is?” She cocked her head while holding his gaze. “That Bruiser isn’t mad about me spending time with Dash?”
“That the same guy who allegedly interrupts a burglary in progress at your neighbor’s house is the one you’re boning less than a week later when his apartment is torched.”
“We’re not boning,” Norah rushed to say. Not that she would mind if they were, but it felt a bit like stolen valor. They’d only kissed so far—as intense and amazing as those kisses had been—but she didn’t want to take undeserved credit for luring Dash into bed when it hadn’t happened… yet . Just the idea of it made her skin feel hot again. “We were just sitting on his couch and talking. There was no boning.”
Detective Mill broke his stone-faced expression to roll his eyes. “Fine. The guy you were talking to while the two of you were alone in his apartment. Still a pretty huge coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Not really?” Norah responded, but it came out sounding tentative.
“I think you’re forgetting again how small Langston is,” Molly chimed in, and Norah was grateful for the assist. “You’re used to Denver. Around here, we’re tripping over the same people all the time, especially in our line of work.”
“And it’s not like I hadn’t noticed Dash before I saw him at the neighbor’s,” Norah burst out, not sure if what she was saying was helpful or not, but her nerves didn’t let her hold it in. “I mean, have you seen his hands? They’re very…sinewy.”
Cara’s stifled laugh sounded more like a choke this time as Molly turned her head away to stare at the porch floor. Norah had a suspicion that if the detective wasn’t there glaring at them, they’d be rolling on the ground, laughing their heads off.
Still, she couldn’t stop talking. “The whole thing at Mr. P’s house gave us a topic of conversation. Things…escalated from there.” She forced her lips to clamp shut before the truth untwisted into something that didn’t fit the story they were spinning for Mill’s benefit.
Despite the embarrassment it caused her, Norah’s babbling seemed to have worked to convince Mill—or at least to make the detective uncomfortable enough with the topic to change his line of questioning.
“Who was behind the alleged attack last night?” he asked.
All her earlier flustered feelings evaporated at that word. “It wasn’t an alleged attack,” she said fiercely. The heat warming her chest wasn’t an embarrassed flush anymore. It was sheer rage. “Dash has a huge bump on the back of his head and a torched apartment to prove it. He had to stay at Bruiser’s house last night since his place is all sooty and smoky…and a crime scene.” She’d offered him a bed at her house, but the cops had kept him on the scene for questioning much longer than they had her, so he’d declined and sent her home after a final hard squeeze and kiss pressed to her temple.
“Fine.” He raised a hand as if warding off more verbal attacks. “Who was behind the…attack last night?”
With some effort, she ignored that taunting pause before attack . “I don’t know.”
“You must have some suspicions.”
“Of course.” She raised her shoulders in a shrug, suddenly feeling exhausted by everything that had happened, and the craziness showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. “Zach Fridley, the guy he stopped in the middle of a burglary, is out on bail.”
“Anyone else?” Mill actually sounded genuinely interested in her answer rather than just hoping he’d trip her up and trick her into telling him the truth.
“Devon Leifsen.” This wasn’t anything she hadn’t told the officers who’d questioned her the night before. “He’s one of the skips we’re after. He likes to hack into my computer and send me creepy messages with lots of menacing smiley faces.”
Detective Mill raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged a little at his unspoken comment. “Yeah, he doesn’t seem like the type to throw rocks and bottle bombs into someone’s apartment, but he made it clear he doesn’t like seeing me with other guys.” She decided to leave out the note he’d slid into her pocket at Dutch’s, since she had been supposedly still seeing Bruiser at that time. “Stalkers can be unpredictable.”
As if on cue, a white Lexus rolled up to the curb in front of their house. Norah had been so distracted by Mill’s questions she hadn’t even seen the car approaching. When Laken Albee popped out of the driver’s seat, Norah didn’t know if she should groan in dismay or cheer the interruption. It was almost impossible to choose whether she’d rather talk to the detective or her junior high bully. Neither , she decided firmly. She really was too tired and sore to deal with either.
“Norah! There you are!” Laken waved enthusiastically over the top of her car as if seeing Norah on the porch of the house where she lived was a wonderful surprise.
“Who’s that?” Mill asked as both Molly and Cara gave low groans.
“Just an old acquaintance,” Norah said, not really wanting to get into her school-aged traumas with the suspicious detective. “I can get rid of her if you have more questions for me?” It was a close call, but talking to Mill was slightly less heinous than having to deal with Laken’s transparently fake affection.
Mill studied her for a long moment before tucking his small notebook in his shirt pocket. “If I do, I’ll stop back again.” It was as if he knew she was dying to find a reason to dismiss Laken and refused to do her any kind of solid. “You’re not far from the station. As you said”—he gave Molly a mocking nod—“Langston is a small town.” Turning, he walked down the porch steps.
“You okay dealing with her?” Molly muttered quietly as her eyes shot lasers at the pair passing on the walkway. “I want to call John and fill him in on all this.”
“Same,” Cara said, glaring just as hard as the detective reached his car and Laken approached the porch steps. “Only Henry, not John.”
“Glad you’re not trying to steal my man.”
Cara snorted at Molly’s joking comment. “As if he’d ever look away from you long enough to even see another woman. Even if he did, Henry’s plenty for me. I’m not greedy.”
Norah laughed, grateful to her sisters for reducing the tension. She relaxed a little, less worried about the upcoming conversation but still dreading it. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
Her sisters slipped back into the house, closing the door behind them. Although she’d just told them to leave, Norah envied them. If she’d had a chance to escape the oncoming nightmare, she would’ve grabbed it with both hands too.
“Norah! Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Laken slapped her on the shoulder. Although it was done teasingly, Norah’s sore muscles still protested the hit.
She hid her wince behind a forced smile. “I couldn’t. My phone burned up.”
“Burned up?” Laken’s expression blanked with honest shock.
Norah registered the reaction with interest. It wasn’t as if she’d honestly suspected Laken was the one throwing rocks and bottle bombs, but there had to be a motive behind the woman’s interest. No one tried this hard to catch up with someone from high school—especially when they hadn’t even been friends.
“Yes.” Ignoring the hint to give more details, Norah got straight to the point. “What were your texts about?”
“You still owe me a night out at Dutch’s!” Laken’s broad smile of exaggerated friendliness fell back into place.
There was something about showing that many teeth that made her seem threatening instead of disarming. Norah had to make an effort not to take a step back. This wasn’t the time to show weakness to a predator.
“How about tomorrow? It’s Ladies’ Night—not that we ever have to pay for a drink.” Laken winked, and Norah thought how strange it was that Chloe could make the same expression look fun and cute but it just seemed contrived when Laken did it. Also, she wasn’t sure why Laken didn’t think Norah paid for her drinks. It was just a weird thing to say.
She realized she’d hesitated too long when Laken’s eyes lit up with anticipation. Then again, maybe this outing was needed to expose what her junior high nemesis was really after. Norah could shoot down her hopes at finding the necklace, and then she’d hopefully be free of any future unwanted social obligations—at least those involving Laken. Going to Dutch’s without backup wasn’t an option though. The thought of seeing Dash again made a fireworks show launch in her belly, but she quashed the excitement, telling herself to save it for later, when she was alone.
“Fine,” she said, knowing she’d regret it later. It had to be done though, like a dentist appointment. “I’m bringing a date.”
A strange expression flashed over Laken’s face before she reverted to her usual game-show host smile. “That delicious, muscle-bound man from the diner?”
Norah gave a short nod, not liking to hear someone else describe her Dash in that way.
“Ooooh, can’t wait.” As if wanting to leave before Norah could change her mind, Laken clattered down the porch steps impressively fast for someone in heels. “See you tomorrow! Let’s say nine!” she called over her shoulder, not waiting for confirmation on the time before hurrying around to the driver’s side of her car.
Norah watched her drive off. If she’d known that agreeing to go to Dutch’s would mean such a quick departure, she might’ve said yes sooner…although this also meant she had to spend an evening at Dutch’s with Laken.
Groaning, Norah reflexively reached for her cell phone, making a face when it wasn’t in her pocket as usual. No, it was likely a blackened lump on what was left of Dash’s apartment floor. Even if it hadn’t been burned, the firefighters had surely doused it with a hefty amount of water. Heaving a mournful sigh, she headed inside. This meant a trip to the phone store in Denver, and she hated the phone store with a passion.
She dragged herself into the kitchen. Cara wasn’t anywhere in sight—probably upstairs—but Molly was digging through the fridge as she talked on her phone to John. No matter what they were discussing—even if they were arguing—Molly always had that underlying lovey-dovey edge to her voice whenever she was talking to her boyfriend. Norah settled at the table and took a sip of the coffee she’d started before the detective had interrupted them. Wincing, she swallowed the lukewarm brew. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected it to still be hot after Mill’s interrogation and Laken’s visit.
By the time she’d dumped the remainder in the sink and rinsed her cup, Molly wasn’t showing any signs of wrapping up her conversation with John. Too antsy to wait any longer, Norah grabbed one of the disposable phones they kept on hand for informants. She scribbled the number down along with “going to Denver to get a new phone” and stuck it on the fridge. Molly walked over to read the note and interrupted what she’d been saying to John.
“Take Dash with you.”
Norah felt her stomach squeeze with both excitement and nerves. “He’s working.”
“Then wait until he can go, or I’ll go with you tomorrow.” Molly listened to whatever John was saying. “Norah needs to get a new phone. Hers burned up.” There was another pause before she spoke again. “Get in line. I get first crack at whoever did this.” Yet another pause. “That’s not fair. She’s my sister. I should get dibs on torturing—”
Knowing from experience that the argument would take a while, Norah just scribbled out the first sentence she’d written and changed it to “going to talk to Dash.” This new plan got an approving nod from Molly, who tossed her the keys to the weed-mobile. Norah fumbled the catch, as always, but managed to grab them before they hit the floor. With a wave of thanks, she headed out before Molly could reconsider letting her little sister leave her sight.
The drive to the gym felt too short as Norah tried to plan out what she’d say to Dash once she saw him. When they were together, it wasn’t usually stilted or awkward, but that didn’t stop her from fretting about what she should say to him after their harrowing experience the night before.
Parking on the street, she was halfway down the alley before she saw the police tape blocking the gym door.
“Of course it’s closed,” she muttered, stopping and turning back in the direction she’d come from. “The building was on fire, dummy.”
As she hurried back to the car, her stomach churned. She hadn’t thought about Dash losing his home and—at least temporarily—his livelihood at the same time. Since it was likely Norah had dragged him into the situation that led to the previous night’s events, it was her fault he had nowhere to live and his business was shut down.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, she locked the doors but didn’t turn on the car. Digging out her burner phone, she stared blankly at it as she thought. The unfamiliar ring made her jump and fumble the phone, dropping it into her lap.
Once she’d recovered it, she recognized Molly’s number on the display. Relieved and feeling a bit silly for being startled by her own phone, she answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, Norah. Dash called.”
“He has your number? Why?”
“For situations like this?” Molly said. “Or in case you forget to turn your phone on or something.”
The second one made more sense. Even Norah, who worked for a group of bounty hunters, couldn’t have predicted the previous night’s mess. “What did he say?”
“The gym’s closed. He’s on his way to meet you there.”
“Yeah, I should’ve figured out that it wouldn’t be open.” She was a little abashed by her lapse in logic, but she’d just wanted to see Dash, so she hadn’t thought further than that.
“Good news is he’s not working, so he can go with you to get a new phone.”
Norah thought that was an optimistic way of looking at it.
“You should leave my car parked by the gym and take Dash’s.” Molly’s voice had an undercurrent of laughter, as it always did when she was being an instigator.
“Okay,” Norah said slowly. “Why?”
“My car’s so recognizable that you know our detective buddy is going to notice it. It’ll drive him up a wall when he can’t figure out where we went.”
Norah snorted at her sister’s machinations but just said, “Fine. As long as Dash is okay with it.”
“Stay safe. You have your pepper spray and your Taser on you?”
“Of course.” As she spoke, she heard a voice in the background on Molly’s end.
“Cara’s reminding you not to take your shoes off for any reason.”
“Why would I take my shoes off at the phone store?”
“Just promise her,” Molly urged. “It’s easier.”
“I promise.” Glancing in her rearview mirror, Norah saw Dash’s SUV pull up behind her. “Dash is here. See you later.”
“Bye. Be careful!”
“I will.” She started to lower the phone from her ear as if that would encourage Molly to end the conversation.
“Tell Dash if you get hurt in any way, we’re holding him responsible.”
“Yeah, I’m not telling him that.” Just the thought of it had her face warming with imagined embarrassment.
“It’s okay. I already did when he called earlier.”
Norah tipped her head forward to rest on the top of the steering wheel. Of course Molly did. “Okay. Bye. I have to talk to Dash and also die of humiliation.” She ended the call before her sister could say anything that would make her blush even more.
A tap on the window made her lift her head to see Dash, his scowl heavier than usual. She moved to lower the window but then realized the car wasn’t on, so she reached for the door handle instead. As soon as the lock disengaged, Dash pulled it open the rest of the way.
“You okay?” he asked immediately. When she looked at him in confusion, he offered her a hand. “Your head was down.”
“I’m fine. Molly was embarrassing me.” She accepted his hand even though she didn’t really need help getting out of the car. Then her stiff muscles screamed at her, and she reconsidered, gripping him a little harder as she straightened to standing.
His gaze flicked over her as he frowned even more severely, and she knew she hadn’t managed to hide her grimace. “What hurts?”
Everything. She knew that wouldn’t do anything except make Dash even more worried, so she shrugged and said, “Just a little sore. Nothing serious. How’s your head?”
He waved a hand, effectively dismissing the fact that he’d been bashed over the head hard enough to daze him less than twenty-four hours earlier. “I’m fine. You need a phone.”
“Yes.” Apparently, asking Dash how he was feeling got him to quit fussing over her. “Do you mind driving? I’ll pay for gas. Molly wants Detective Mill to see her weed car here and spend the day futilely searching the area for one of us.”
That made his mouth crook up in a smile. “I can drive, and you’re not paying.”