John cleared his throat. “Pants are probably a good idea. Dutch’s is probably the only place you could get tetanus and hepatitis from sitting on one of their barstools.”

Her lips pulled back in a disgusted grimace. “Thanks for that. I think I’ll just stay standing, pants or no pants.”

“Good idea.”

He pulled into her driveway, and she hurried to get out of the SUV and jogged toward the front door, figuring that John would wait for her outside. When she heard the car door slam, she turned to see him following her, and she fixed him with a look.

“What are you doing?”

His eyebrows rose, matching hers, and his stride didn’t slow until he stood right next to her on the front porch. “Getting you some pants.”

“I don’t exactly need your help with that.” Despite her words, she unlocked the door and let him follow her inside. If she stopped every time they disagreed about something, they wouldn’t get anything done. “I’ve been getting myself dressed for several years now.”

His chuckle was low and had an odd note of heat, but she immediately dismissed the thought. If it was anything close to that, it was because he was just teasing her. Before he could say anything, the throaty grumble of a car engine turning over caught both of their attention.

The neighborhood was normally quiet—when they weren’t getting their house searched by police and having random guys trying to break in. Since the hunting lodge’s entrance was on the other side of the resort’s property, the only occasional traffic was Mr. P’s BMW sedan or the Villaneaus’ grown daughter’s minivan. Molly knew the sound and appearance of all her neighbors’ vehicles. She was even familiar with all her neighbors’ friends’ and families’ vehicles.

She didn’t know this car.

She peered through the darkness, trying to make out the driver, but the car was sitting in the gloomy spot between two streetlights. The porch light above her was spotlighting her position and ruining her night vision, and she suddenly felt exposed. The dark interior of the strange vehicle seemed menacing, the unknown making the unseen driver a thousand times scarier than if she’d been able to make out the slightest details. All of the stories about Sonny’s horrific misdeeds, both rumored and confirmed, rose in her mind, and her breath caught audibly.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, his voice growly, protective almost, as his gaze swept the street and immediately landed on the unknown car. “Who’s that?”

The reminder of John’s presence pulled her out of her imagination-fueled worry, and anger shoved out her feeling of vulnerability. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” This was her neighborhood, her house. What right did this interloper have to make her feel hunted on her own front porch? As she surged down the steps and toward the car, intending to confront the driver, the headlights flashed on, blinding her even further. She hesitated, blinking away the bright haloes burned into her vision, and the car shot forward. The engine roared as the driver accelerated quickly, darting past her and leaving just the shrinking taillights and the acrid scent of burned rubber behind.