His sigh was audible, and Molly turned up the urgency in her wide eyes. “Dutch’s,” he mumbled as he shifted folders on his desk.

Hope lit in Molly’s belly, causing it to untwist slightly. “Right. Thank you.” She put a heavy emphasis on the last two words, which made Botha’s brows draw even closer together as Garcia sent a hunted look toward Molly.

Now that she had some sort of lead, she gave the two cops a wave goodbye and headed for the door, John still sticking close to her side. Once they’d made it outside into the sodium-lit parking area, she grinned up at him. “So…Dutch’s. It’s a starting place, at least.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure that Garcia was going to come through for us, but you worked your magic.”

She peered up at him, checking for any professional jealousy or insincerity. She didn’t see any sign of it, though. “What was up with you in there? I would’ve never thought you could stay quiet for so long.”

“You had it handled…well, until the lieutenant made her appearance, but I couldn’t do anything to help that. It was just bad luck, and you still got a possible location from Garcia. Good job.”

His praise made her too happy. She knew that was dangerous, to allow herself to fill with buoyant air every time he complimented her, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “Thanks. I was worried when I heard that Blake’s out for a while. She’s the one who owes me a huge favor, so I get lots of useful tidbits from her.”

Even in the dim light, John’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What does she owe you for?”

She leaned in, as if she was about to share a huge secret. When he dipped his head down toward her, his attention laser-focused, she whispered, “It’s a really wild story…and none of your business.”

Trying not to laugh at his look of exaggerated disappointment, she strode to his SUV, needing to put a little distance between them so her brain would start working again. It was that stupid, slight hint of sugar and strawberry scent that did her in every time, which just made her more infuriated with that tiny, bitty part of her that squeed with excitement whenever he was close enough to get a whiff.

With a cough, Molly waited for him to beep open the doors, working equally hard at banishing the dangerous flickers of a Carmondy crush and focusing on the next step in tracking down Sonny Zarver. Just the thought of his name was enough to sober her, wiping away every giddy feeling and replacing it with dread.

By the time John was buckling himself into the driver’s seat, Molly had a plan in place—or the start of one, at least.

“To Dutch’s, then?” he asked, starting the SUV.

“We need to make a detour to my house first.”

He turned left out of the parking lot. “Did you forget something?”

“Pants.” She flicked at the hem of her sundress, and he shot a glance at her legs before quickly refocusing on the road. “Plus a few other things.” She’d been in Dutch’s once or twice, although she did her best to stay away from the hole-in-the-wall bar—which had always fit nicely with her previous plan of avoiding unnecessary danger. Just from those few visits, she knew she’d need some of her favorite on-the-job tools.