Pulling her to a halt, John frantically checked her over, his hands moving gently along her arms and torso. “Does anything hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“John.” She grabbed his fingers, stopping his inspection until he met her gaze. “I’m fine. You’re the one who was hit. How’s your shoulder?”

He glanced at it as if he’d forgotten. Molly hadn’t forgotten. She’d be seeing that moment in her nightmares for a long time. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice calmer, shrugging that shoulder as if to prove that he was okay.

“Good.” Relief that he wasn’t seriously hurt rushed through her. Brushing small chunks of plaster out of her hair, she glanced over at Mother Tick by the curb, talking on her cell phone. Molly groaned.

“What’s wrong?” John eyed her carefully up and down. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Positive. That wasn’t an I’m-in-pain sound. That was a she’s-calling-the-cops-so-we’ll-be-stuck-here-for-hours-answering-questions groan.”

“What happened?” Mother Tick called out to them, the cell phone still at her ear. “Where’s Sonny? Didn’t he make it out? Someone needs to check on him.” By the way she planted her feet and looked at John and Molly accusingly, that someone was not going to be Mother Tick.

Molly opened her mouth to say that Mr. Booby Trap could just deal with the consequences until the cops and firefighters arrived, but then she changed her mind before the words could make it out. “I’ll go,” she said sweetly instead.

“No, I’ll go.” John shifted so he stood between her and the house. “Think of the baby.”

Instead of arguing, she just dodged around him, grabbing his hand on the way. “We’ll both go and watch out for each other. The baby will need both its parents.” She could feel his tension, and she knew he was going to try to prevent her from going back in the house. This was a prime opportunity to search through Sonny’s things…what was left of them. As soon as they were out of Mother Tick’s earshot, she muttered, “You need my help. I know where at least one of the trip wires is.”

That shut him up until they were back inside, eyeing the damaged ceiling. Although there were chunks of plaster missing, and the light fixture hung askew, wires showing on one side, it didn’t appear that the whole thing was going to come crashing down on their heads.

“I really don’t want you coming up there,” John grumbled, his gaze still fixed on the pockmarked ceiling. “It’s not safe.”

Molly snorted and moved toward the hallway. “If I only did what was safe, I’d never have started a bail recovery business. I’d have started a…safe-making business.” She chuckled at her own stupid pun, needing to relieve the nervous tension. She knew it wasn’t smart to wander around a house after a grenade had gone off, but this was Sonny Zarver’s last place of residence, and he hadn’t had a chance to clean it out yet. It was a golden opportunity.