“A front exit…hopefully.” Molly hid a shiver that ran through her as she stared into the murky dimness in front of them. If it led to another dead end… The last thing she wanted was to get lost in a creepy abandoned warehouse where they’d both nearly been killed.

John made a wordless sound of comprehension, his intense alertness making it clear that he was just as eager to escape the building as she was. They moved quickly but cautiously in mutual silence, John’s head still swiveling and his gaze sharp. Molly was beginning to feel like she was trying to walk through slowly setting cement, and she started to despair that they’d ever find a way out of this gloomy, spooky warehouse.

They turned yet another corner, and Molly’s stomach gave a tiny jump of excitement when she saw a double door—that wasn’t chained shut. As they drew closer and she glimpsed the battered and unlit Exit sign above the door, she almost burst into tears of sheer relief. Luckily, she managed to drag the remains of her will together and keep her exhausted emotions in check…just barely. John eased one side open as she pushed the release bar on the other, opening it a few inches and checking the area in front of the building. All looked still, the empty street feeling almost welcoming after the crowded, shadowed warehouse, so she slipped out and fell into step with John.

As they passed the space between the warehouse and the neighboring building, they both glanced at the spectacle taking place at the back of Dutch’s. Emergency lights flashed, and someone—the firefighters, most likely—had set up bright-white floodlights that made the area glow like a beacon. There were cops all over, as well as a growing crowd of onlookers, and John gave an audible sigh.

“Guess that means I won’t be picking up my car until tomorrow morning,” he said a bit mournfully as they continued down the street.

“It’d be best, unless you want to explain why we’re not bombing suspects tonight. Personally, I’d rather drag my tired ass home and then hash it out with Langston PD tomorrow if we have to.”

From the sound he made, John did not want to stick around to explain things to the cops, either.

“Let’s get the car tomorrow morning. If the cops notice it in the lot and run the plates, you could just say that you had too much to drink, so you called for a ride long before the bar exploded.” Molly felt a slight pang of guilt for getting him into this mess, so of course she overcompensated to try to make up for it. “You can stay at my house tonight, if you like.”

She immediately felt his gaze on the side of her face, but she kept her eyes focused firmly forward, even as she felt goose bumps prickle her skin at the realization that she’d just invited John Carmondy to a sleepover.

When he didn’t respond, she rushed to add, “The buses pretty much stop running at ten, but we could get a ride for you. If Charlie’s back, I can use her car, or we could get a Lyft.” Babble threatened to spill over, so she clamped her lips together and forced herself to wait for John to respond.