reversed, and eased down the street in the opposite direction from the fire.
Once she was stationary and had the Jeep in motion, driving became easier. Her body decided it was a good time to start shaking, so she took her time. When she finally turned into the driveway by her apartment, a dark, powerful, low-slung car waited down the street, lit by a nearby streetlight.
She put the Jeep in park. Her door was yanked open, and Josiah’s big body filled the open space. When he saw her, he hesitated, and his face tightened.
“Okay,” he said carefully while a muscle bunched in his lean jaw. “You’re going to be okay.”
She gave him a thumbs-up. “Piece of cake.”
Something happened to his tight features. She was too preoccupied with her own problems to figure out what it was.
Gently, he cupped long fingers around her hand, upraised thumb and all. “Can you swing your legs out?”
She thought that over. It was a surprisingly complicated maneuver that would mean shifting her ribs and using abdominal muscles. “Sure. Give me a few minutes.”
“You don’t have to,” he told her. “I can move you, but that’s going to hurt too. Are you ready?”
She nodded. He slipped a hard, muscled arm underneath her knees. When he eased her legs out, the broken ribs ground together. A cry tore out of her, and stars flashed against her eyelids.
Then a black hole swallowed her whole, pain and all.
Chapter Eight
Josiah had been spending the weekend reviewing the last of the open case files his office inherited from the previous DA. Working extra hours didn’t bother him in the slightest. The sooner he got through the backlog, the sooner he could concentrate more on his own agenda.
He had taken two portable office files “home” with him. With ample food-delivery options, he’d had no plans for leaving the city apartment. That way he could kill two birds with one stone—he could process old case files while putting in an appearance at the address of his official life.
At least that was the plan until he received Molly’s phone call.
When his phone rang and her name appeared, he had to wrestle with an unruly surge of pride as he considered whether he would answer.
She’d ripped him a new one in their previous conversation, and he was honest enough to admit he had deserved it. But when he’d tried to extend a new olive branch, she had shut him down so hard he still heard the ice in her voice when he looked at her name on the screen.
He refused to be at the beck and call of any woman, no matter how intriguing, gifted—or right—she might be. But then curiosity got the better of him. It had been blazingly clear Molly had meant their previous conversation to be their last, so why was she reaching out again?
He picked up… and her first words galvanized him into action. He was already racing out to the parking garage and leaping into his car before they had even hung up. Casting a cloaking spell over his vehicle, he broke speed limits to reach her rental, only to be forced to sit in place until she arrived.
While he waited, he called Anson. “Austin Sullivan attacked Molly at their house, and she put him down hard. She doesn’t know if she killed him. I need you to monitor police channels and go to their house to check things out.”
“I’m on it. What am I looking for specifically?”
“For one thing, I want to know if he’s alive or dead, because that will impact her legal situation.” He fell silent, his thoughts racing as he kept a sharp eye on the quiet street.
Maria had sensed violence surrounding the Seychelles file, but they had assumed any violence would be connected to their investigation. Everyone in his coven had already accepted they walked a dangerous path as they stalked their quarry.
It had never occurred to them that Molly might become the target of violence. Maybe it should have, but she’d been smart and sensible when she’d taken precautions and rented her new place.
Then she negated all of it when she went back to her old house.
“Josiah, you still there?”
Anson’s voice snapped him back into focus. “Yes. Sorry. For another thing, we don’t know if this is purely a domestic dispute or if it’s related to the intel she gave me. Be careful, Anson. We don’t know who’s involved.”
“Understood. I’ll be in touch when I know something.” The other man disconnected.
A few minutes later, an