“Don’t act like you’re the innocent victims.” Mill’s lip was raised in a slight sneer as he gestured at all of them. “When you sleep with dogs and wake up with fleas, don’t blame me when you’re itching.”

Molly blinked, torn between fury and laughter. She tightened her jaw so that neither escaped. Mill must’ve had some self-preservation, because he was moving away from the porch toward the pair by the squad car. “Stay here,” he said, as if it weren’t their house and they hadn’t been the ones to call the police. Molly noticed that both the Villaneaus and Mr. P were on their porches now, watching the scene with a mixture of disdain and patronizing glee.

As they watched Mill join his partner and Stuart, John muttered something under his breath, the sound so low it came out as a rumbling growl.

Molly raised her eyebrows at him before turning back to the scene by the cop car. “Chill, papa bear,” she said absently, trying to read Mill’s lips as he spoke to Bastien.

At Charlie’s choked laugh and Felicity’s snort, Molly glanced over to see all of her sisters smirking at her. Even Cara looked to be fighting a smile.

“What?” she asked as her face got hot.

“Nothing.” Of course it was Charlie who said it, in a tone that made it obvious that nothing meant the very opposite. “Whatever sex games you like to play are between the two of you. I don’t want to know.”

“Speak for yourself.” Felicity was obviously fighting—and failing—to keep a straight face. “I’m interested.”

“Not me, especially since we should be concentrating on how they’re letting Stuart go.” Cara’s tone went from wryly amused to flat, and Molly turned to see that her sister was right. Stuart was walking away from the squad car—no cuffs or even a ticket in evidence—heading toward a bright-green Jeep parked a half block away. When he saw them watching, he gave a jaunty wave. John swore under his breath, but Molly kept her comments to herself that time.

“Of course he drives a Jeep,” Felicity said with tones of heavy loathing.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“I hate Jeeps.”

“Why?”

“I just do. They’re…gross.”

“That’s weird.”

“It’s logical and right.”

“You’re so strange.”

Molly ignored her sisters’ argument, concentrating on the two detectives as they headed for opposite sides of the squad car. “Is that it?” she called, unable to keep the sharp edge from her voice. “You’re just letting him go after he broke into our home?”

“You really want to drag this out?” Mill yelled back, his words a challenge. “If you do, we can talk about the penalties for making a false statement to police.”

From his spot next to his Jeep, Stuart let out a mocking laugh, and it was Molly’s turn to growl as she charged toward the car. She wasn’t sure if she was planning on tackling Mill or Stuart, and she wasn’t able to find out, since John grabbed her and swung around, putting himself between her and both of her targets.