No one answered because everyone was looking at Lucas, waiting on his answer.
“None of your fucking business,” he told the room.
Archer let out a rare laugh and pushed off of Molly’s desk, heading back to his office. “Elle’s vote was that you ended up with no one.”
Lucas opened his mouth, caught Molly’s gaze, and then shut it. Elle was going to have to think he was a loser who made women up in his mind, and it wasn’t because Joe and Archer would kill him. It was because he wouldn’t rat out Molly for anything.
Joe and Reyes said their goodbyes and left, and Molly immediately stood up and grabbed her purse, looking to be suddenly in a hurry.
In a hurry to avoid him, he bet.
“’Night,” she said.
“You can run but you can’t hide,” he said quietly.
She laughed, but still left. When the door closed behind her, Lucas took a step to follow her and then realized someone was watching him.
Archer was back, leaning against the doorjamb. “So . . . how did things really go?”
Lucas knew he wasn’t asking about today’s job, but it was worth pretending. “Felt good to be out. I’m more than ready.”
“Good to know,” Archer said. “Now answer the question I asked.”
Lucas blew out a breath and gave it to him straight. “I’m not sure Molly can be deterred from taking the bad Santa case. The old ladies hit her pretty hard for a sympathy vote.”
“Are you telling me that a couple of old ladies are better at the game than you?”
“Hell no.”
“Good,” Archer said. “Cuz I’ve got a new job for you.”
“Why am I not feeling excited about this,” Lucas muttered.
“If she dives in to help the elves without asking me or Joe for help—”
“Are you kidding me?” Lucas asked. “She’s not going to ask you for help. She’ll never ask anyone for help and you know it.”
“I do,” Archer said. “So you’re going to offer to help her, and keep her safe while you’re at it. And since I value my life, you’re not going to tell her I put you on the case.”
“So . . . if she finds out, I’m the only one who’s going to die?”
“Correct,” Archer said.
Good to know everyone’s six was being protected except his own. He went back to his office. Not feeling all that great about the state of affairs of his life at the moment, he leaned back in his chair and studied his ceiling. Things had been much less complicated before he’d gotten shot. Before he’d slept with the woman who he was supposed to be protecting and keeping safe—without her knowing about it.
Most days after work, he hit the gym or went on a run. But his doctor hadn’t cleared him for any of that. His doctor hadn’t cleared him for jack shit—including whatever he’d done with Molly . . .
Hold up . . .
If he’d had wild and crazy sex, wouldn’t his side hurt like a son of a bitch? He scrunched his abs. A twinge, yes, but no real pain. Inconclusive, dammit. Because chances were, for sex he’d have fought through any pain.
Hmm. He opened his laptop. He wasn’t supposed to be able to access his fellow employee files. No one was supposed to be able to. But he’d been hired for his dubious IT skills so it wasn’t a stretch for him to locate Molly’s home address.
He left the offices and strode through the courtyard that was decorated for the holidays with garlands of evergreen entwined with twinkling white lights in every doorway and window frame, not to mention a huge Christmas tree between the entrance and the alley. He entered the alley, and as expected found Old Man Eddie sitting on an upside-down empty crate. The guy was a sixties throwback with a shock of long white hair that tended to stick up around his head like Einstein’s. Everyone, including Spence Baldwin, the owner of the building and Eddie’s actual grandson had tried to get Eddie off the streets. All efforts had been met with sweet but steely resistance. Today Eddie was on his phone playing a game, presumably against the man sitting on another crate across from him.
Caleb was in a suit, an expensive one by the looks of it, and yet seemed perfectly at home in the alley.
“Fucker,” Eddie said fondly.
Caleb snorted. “Your problem’s that you play with your heart, old man.”
“Right,” Eddie said. “I forgot that you don’t have one.”
Caleb nodded a quick greeting at Lucas, still playing the game. He was a venture capitalist, some kind of a tech genius, and a longtime client of Hunt Investigations. Lucas had been tasked with guarding the guy’s back on several occasions now, and since one of those occasions had involved a near and not accidental mugging where Caleb had entirely held his own with some impressive MMA-like skills, Lucas had nothing but respect for the guy.
“Feeling better than you were the other night?” Caleb asked Lucas.
“Yeah, man, cuz you were looking pretty out of it,” Eddie said. “That’s probably why that cutie-pie from your office walked you up to bed.” He slid him a sly smile. “She didn’t leave until morning, so I’m guessing it was a good night for you.”
Caleb went brows up and finally gave up the game to stare at Lucas. “Wait—Molly? You spent the night with Molly? You have a death wish or something?”
Or something. “How much for you to never repeat any part of that story?” Lucas said to Eddie, ignoring Caleb for now. He wasn’t worried about Caleb. Caleb knew the value of secrets and kept plenty of his own. But Eddie loved and adored nothing as much as some good gossip.
Proving it, the old man smiled slyly and held out his hand.
Shit. Lucas fished out a twenty.
Eddie just kept smiling.
Lucas added a second twenty.
Eddie’s hand remained out.
So Lucas added a third twenty, and then a fourth.
“That should do it,” Eddie said.
“Sucker,” Caleb said with a shake of his head.
Chapter 5
#DefineNice
Lucas drove to Molly’s place, trying to concentrate on the radio and the Cal football game playing. He’d gone to Cal State Berkley because that’s where the scholarship had been. Also, his dad had gone there; it’s where he’d met Lucas’s mom—who hadn’t been a student but worked at one of the campus cafes. Lucas had never been all that passionate about school, but he was definitely passionate about football. Like his dad, he’d played as a wide receiver for a year, although mostly as a bench warmer, before blowing out his ACL, which had required surgery, but he still loved the game.
But even that love couldn’t keep his mind on the Cal broadcast. Instead he was trying to figure out how best to handle Molly. Keeping anything from her was sheer stupidity, but telling her the truth would only make her go undercover and on her own. He couldn’t risk that, couldn’t risk her.
She lived in Outer Sunset, a district of San Francisco that was the most populated in all of San Francisco. Streets were narrow, buildings old and worn and overfilled, but well cared for.
Her building was no exception. There were eight units, four on the bottom, four on the second floor, which, thanks to the heavy fog, was nearly invisible. Molly lived on the ground floor in one of the units facing the street. Her lights were on, but no one answered his knock. He noted that her neighbor—not one of the elves—was staring at him from behind her curtains with a pinched look on her face, so he sent her what he hoped was a harmless smile and knocked on Molly’s door again.