Knowing that the longer she hesitated, the greater the chance of them all being blown to pieces, Molly picked the door on her left at random. It was locked. Of course it is. She quickly ran through her options, deciding that picking the lock would be a last resort, since it would take more precious time than she wanted to spare and, although not especially noisy, the small sounds could easily catch Sonny’s attention.

While she was deciding this, she checked the handle of the door on the right. To her surprise, it turned easily under her fingers. Standing to the side, she pushed it open, her muscles tensed, ready to fling herself out of the way. There was a slight resistance, and she shoved harder. There was a solid click as the door suddenly flew open completely, banging against the wall.

The room was shabby and messy, with a mattress on the floor and clothes and belongings strewn across everything. A blanket covered one window, but the other was wide open, the covering hanging limply to the side. Blinking against the unexpected brightness, Molly only vaguely noticed the untidy details, her focus fixed on the hand grenade rolling to a stop against the base of a pressboard dresser. The pin was missing, and the knowledge hit her in that split second that it was hanging on the door she’d just swung open.

She’d just activated a grenade.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

Chapter 16

Without stopping to come up with a plan, Molly turned and bolted, hurdling the trip wire at the top of the stairs and getting all the way down the steps before her thinking brain engaged again. Blasting through the door at the bottom of the steps, she yelled, “Out! Get out!”

Tearing down the hallway, she saw John running across the living room toward her. There was no sign of Mother Tick.

“What are you doing?” Molly shrieked, not slowing down. “Go! Out! Grenade!”

His eyes widened, but instead of immediately hightailing it out of there, he waited until she flew past him and then tucked himself in behind her. Stupid, chivalrous ass! she yelled in her head, not wanting to waste the oxygen she needed for sprinting. She could scold him later for his lack of self-preservation…if they managed to not get blown up, that was.

As they neared the open front door, everything felt like it had slowed down to a nightmare pace. Fighting the need to look behind her to check on John, Molly forced her legs to move faster as she reached toward the doorframe, as if she could pull it closer to them if only she could reach it.

She wasn’t fast enough.

A loud rumbling bang! made her duck and cover her head with both arms. Her heart caught as she turned toward John, instinctively moving to protect him from damage. Plaster dust rained down on them, interspersed with several louder crashes as pieces of the ceiling fell. John pushed her back, grunting as a chunk of plaster caught him on the shoulder. Blinking the dust out of her eyes, Molly moved to check if he was seriously hurt, but he turned her bodily around and pressed her through the open door and across the porch. They didn’t stop until they were on the lawn.