In Her Sights Read online

  Also by Katie Ruggle

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2019 by Katie Ruggle

  Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Kris Keller

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  A Sneak Peek at Risk It All

  A Sneak Peek at Hold Your Breath

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  For all my sisters

  Chapter 1

  “I’m headed to the park,” Molly called as she let the screen door slam behind her. It slapped against the edge of the frame, too warped to close properly. She absently made a mental note to fix it later…along with the hundred other things that needed doing around the house.

  “You want backup?” Charlie yelled back, and Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her sister would do anything to get out of paperwork, but Molly wasn’t about to enable her, even if it would be nice to have someone along to help relieve the boredom.

  “Nope, this should be easy-peasy.”

  “You’re taking Warrant though, right?” Cara, Charlie’s twin and the worrywart of the family, peered at Molly through the screen door.

  Their enormous, hairy Great Pyrenees mix cocked his head when he heard his name. “Yes.” Leash in hand, Molly allowed Warrant to tow her down the porch steps as she gave Cara a wave over her shoulder, wanting to get out of earshot before her sisters thought of any more questions. If Molly was delayed long enough, Charlie would somehow finagle her way into coming along, and that meant Molly would be stuck sorting her sister’s expense reports. That prospect wouldn’t be so bad, except that Charlie was terrible about taking care of her receipts. They were always sticky or stained or wrapped around chewed gum. Nope. Charlie could do her own expense report. It was a beautiful afternoon for a walk to the park, and Molly was going to enjoy it.

  Warrant trotted at her side as they passed their neighbor’s scarily perfect yard. Mr. Petra silently watched from his wide, immaculate porch, his narrow-eyed glare boring into her.

  Baring her teeth in a wide smile, Molly waved. “Hey, Mr. P! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  As he continued to glower, Molly felt her forced smile shift to a real grin. Being passive-aggressively friendly to her sourpuss of a neighbor was oddly satisfying. She felt his disapproving glare follow her until she reached the end of their street and turned the corner. Warrant happily bumbled along next to her, although his broad, pink tongue was already hanging out of his mouth.

  “We’ve gone a block,” she said. “You can’t be getting tired already.”

  Warrant just blinked his oblivious dark eyes at her, and she sighed.

  “You’re the laziest dog in the world. It’s a good thing you’re cute, or we wouldn’t put up with your shenanigans.” That last part was a lie. Molly and her sisters would put up with Warrant even if all of his fur fell out and he sprouted leathery, bat-like wings. They’d probably even get specially made sweaters with appropriately placed holes for his new appendages. She smiled at the mental image as she ran a hand over his silky-soft head.

  The sun beamed down warmly on them as they walked, light filtering through the trees that lined the residential street. Langston was close enough to Denver—just an hour’s drive from downtown to downtown if traffic was light—that commuters were snapping up new cookie-cutter homes on the northern edge of the small city as fast as they could be built. Set tucked against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, the new suburbs had wide stretches of fresh sod and spindly saplings that cast barely any shade, but Molly’s house was in the older, richer, southern part of town. That meant neighbors eyed her family’s worn and comfortably raggedy property from their own perfectly restored Victorians with lush, Mr. P-approved lawns, but it also meant that the trees were old enough to spread their sheltering branches over the yards and quiet streets, protecting Molly and Warrant from the strong Colorado sun.

  Although it was mid-September, it still looked—and felt—like summer. The only hint that fall had begun was the absence of kids running around at two thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. Despite Warrant’s slowing pace, the mile-long walk went quickly, the peace of the quiet, warm day soothing Molly’s too-busy brain.

  After much coaxing and a minimal amount of dragging her increasingly lazy dog, Molly made it to the park. Only a handful of people were there, mostly parents watching their preschool-age kids play. Warrant perked up once the dog park came into view, but Molly towed him in the opposite direction toward an empty bench next to the swings, doing her best to pretend she couldn’t see his sad look. She failed miserably.

  “I know, Warrant.” She sat and tried to ignore the guilt swamping her. “We need to make some money, though. You eat a lot, and it’s not the cheap stuff, either. Your food is the equivalent of dog caviar, so I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to help out occasionally.”


  With a soul-deep sigh, he lay down next to the bench and rested his chin on his front paws. Molly turned her attention away from the dog and eyed the shops across the street. Her spot on the bench was the perfect vantage point.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and pretended that she wasn’t watching the door next to the cute ice cream parlor. The apartment above the shop was leased by Maryann Cooper, who seemed to be a law-abiding, responsible citizen. The same couldn’t be said about her younger brother, Donnie. He had a habit of taking things that didn’t belong to him—like wallets and cell phones and the occasional car—and he hadn’t shown up for his most recent court date.

  Molly had a strong suspicion that Maryann knew where Donnie was hiding, and she would leave for her shift at the turkey-processing plant in an hour or so. Since Maryann had been dodging all of her calls and refusing to answer the door, Molly would have to take a more direct approach. She started playing a game on her phone to pass the time while keeping one eye on the apartment across the street, just in case Maryann decided to leave early. Warrant stretched out on his side and dozed, snoring softly.

  After a peaceful half hour drifted by, Molly stood and stretched, knowing it was time to move closer to the ice cream shop. Warrant provided an excuse to hang out at the park without looking like a lurker—and he’d also proven to be an excellent conversation starter with people who wouldn’t have given her the time of day if she’d tried approaching them alone—but having the dog along did require some additional planning. Warrant’s top speed was a slow amble, so she had to allow enough time to get him through the park and across the street.

  Before she could make her move, an all-too-familiar voice made her groan and plop back down in her seat.

  “Molly Pax. Just the person I wanted to see.” John Carmondy started rounding the bench but paused to rub Warrant behind the ears. The dog—traitor that he was—thumped his heavy tail against the ground and rolled over in a plea for belly scratches. To Warrant’s obvious delight, John complied.

  “John Carmondy. Just the person I didn’t want to see.” If she’d known that he was going to be at the park, she would’ve stopped and talked to Mr. P, or even helped Charlie with those sticky receipts. Molly sent a quick text and then slid her phone into her pocket. “Why are you here?”

  Still crouched to pet Warrant, John grinned up at her. Her dog’s back foot pedaled in the air as John found just the right spot. Molly wasn’t surprised. She was well aware that the man knew exactly how to hit everyone’s buttons. Too bad he seemed to take as much pleasure in pestering her as he did in playing with her dog. “Why am I at the park?” he asked. “Why does anyone go to the park on such a beautiful day?”

  Across the street, Maryann slipped out of the door next to the ice cream shop and hurried toward her ancient Honda parked on the street. She was leaving early today. Molly watched her go, holding back a growl when she saw Maryann get in her car and pull away from the curb. There went her chance to talk to the bail-jumper’s sister.

  “You’re such a happy dog, aren’t you?” John cooed. “Not all crabby like your owner.”

  Molly rolled her eyes hard enough that she was surprised they didn’t spin right out of her skull. “I’m not crabby.” She hesitated, honesty pushing her to add, “Well, not to most people.”

  With a snort, John gave Warrant a final belly scratch before straightening to his full—and significant—height. Crossing over, he took the spot next to her on the bench, and Molly fought the urge to shift to give him more room. He was just so darn huge, with biceps as big as her head and thighs like muscled tree trunks. His ridiculously enormous body took up almost the entire bench. “I’m special, then?”

  “Special’s one word for it,” she muttered. Aggravating was another. So were flirty, distracting, and confusing, although she wasn’t about to admit to any of the last three. Forcing her brain back to the job at hand, she snuck another quick glance across the street. Even though Maryann had left, Molly kept a furtive eye on the shops as she pretended to watch the kids playing on the jungle gym. She hoped that her unwelcome companion would wander away if she ignored him.

  “So…how’ve you been?”

  Of course he didn’t wander away. She should’ve known better. John Carmondy was as hard to get rid of as head lice—and twice as irksome. The fact that her pulse did a weird skittery hop of excitement every time she saw him just annoyed her more. Shooting an irritated glance his way, she saw he was gazing across the street at the ice cream shop, the corner of his mouth tucked in as if he was trying to hold back a grin. He wasn’t fooling anyone, though. The deep crease of his dimple gave him away.

  Her sigh sounded more like a groan. “Did you want something, or do you have some kind of daily annoyance quota you need to fill?”

  When he laughed, she couldn’t help but dart another quick look in his direction. The harsh lines of his face—the square jaw and dark, intense eyes and bumpy nose that had obviously been the target of a fist or two in the past—were softened by his full lips, the lush sweep of his long eyelashes, and that stupidly appealing dimple. Someone that attractive shouldn’t be so incredibly irritating, but that was John Carmondy in a nutshell: ridiculously pretty and just as ridiculously obnoxious.

  “Oh, Pax…such a jokester.” He continued before she could protest that she was completely serious. “What’s happening in your life? It’s been a while since we last got together, and I want to know everything. That’s what good friends do. They share thoughts and ideas and feelings with each other. So share, my good friend. Whatcha up to?” He turned toward her, slinging his arm over the back of the bench so that his enormous hand rested behind her. Although she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t help but shiver. She tried to tell herself it was her imagination, but it felt like the heat from his arm was burning the skin of her back like a brand.

  “First of all,” she started, even as the adult in her brain told her not to encourage him, to just ignore him until he gave up and left, “I saw you only three days ago, when I grabbed that bail jumper from the hardware store.”

  “The one I tracked down? The one you stole while I was in the bathroom? That bail jumper?”

  Ignoring his—accurate—comment, she continued. “Second, we’re not friends, so there will be no sharing of any kind. Third, please go away.”

  She did her best to keep her gaze forward, but it was like her eyes had a mind of their own. In her peripheral vision, she saw him clutch at his chest dramatically. “How can you say we’re not friends? We share all the time. Skips, jokes…we’re even sharing a park bench right now. We’re sharers, Pax. That’s what we do.”

  “No, that’s not what we do.” Quit encouraging him, the smart part of her brain warned.

  “We should share an office,” he continued, proving she shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard. We would be incredible together. A dream team, you might say.”

  Losing the battle over her self-control, she turned her head to look. Instantly, she regretted it when her brain went blank at the sight of him. As annoying as he could be, even she had to admit that he was a beautiful, beautiful man. Tearing her gaze from his amused face, she scowled hard at the ice cream shop across the street, trying to regain her composure—and her ability to speak. “One of us would be dead within a week. The other would be in jail for murder.”

  “But think how much fun that first week would be. Totally worth it.” His chuckle was low, with a growly undertone that made her shiver. Don’t be stupid, that practical portion of her brain warned. This talk about killing each other and stealing skips and their mutual antagonism wasn’t some weird, twisted version of flirting. He might enjoy riling her up, and he was most likely sincere about wanting her to work for him—she and her sisters were very good at what they did, after all—but he wasn’t interested in her like that. He was just a very, very attractive g
uy who was used to getting what he wanted. When she refused his job offers and stole his skips and responded to his teasing with snark rather than utter adoration, he wanted her even more.

  Heat rushed to her belly, even as she hurried to correct the thought. Wants me to work for him, not wants me in any other way.

  Wrestling her mind away from that line of thinking before she could get even more flustered, she focused on the playground. A toddler who’d been playing on the base of the slide was swept up by her mom, and the two walked toward the ice cream shop. Even though it was the middle of the day, the place seemed to be doing a brisk business. An older couple entered the shop while a young woman in running clothes peered through the front window, as if tempted by the thought of a cone.

  John chuckled and shifted on the bench, drawing her attention once again. “Has it only been three days since we saw each other last? It feels longer, probably because I missed this.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him gesture back and forth between the two of them, and she had to swallow an amused snort. He was persistent, she’d give him that. When she didn’t respond, he turned to follow her gaze, although his arm remained stretched behind her. “So…? Who are you hunting these days?”

  And there it was…his true motivation. While she’d been dithering about whether he was actually flirting with her, he’d been focused on stealing her latest job. She gave herself a mental shake. When would she learn that John Carmondy was only interested in what benefited John Carmondy? “Who says I’m working? Why couldn’t I just be walking my dog on a beautiful day?” Even as she spoke, she scolded herself for encouraging him. John was the human manifestation of give an inch, take a mile.

  He laughed again in that low, husky way that she refused to think of as sexy. “Because you have that look you get when you’re on the trail of a skip. You’re a bloodhound, Miss Molly Pax, and you don’t lift your nose from the ground until you find your target.”

  Sighing in a deeply exaggerated way, she stood, and he immediately followed suit. Of course it was too much to ask that she could lose him that easily. She was going to have to get creative. “As much as I would love to stay and listen to you compare me to a dog, Warrant and I have things to do.”