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  “Mostly yours,” she said, trying to hold him still. “Santa’s dead and Janet’s MIA with Tommy, but they’re going to come back. We need to go out the window. Now.”

  “Talk to me, Molly,” Joe said from inside her bra. “I’m ten minutes out. What the fuck is happening?”

  “Lucas has been shot,” she said. “He also took a pipe to the temple and has a head wound. Mrs. Claus lost her shit. Hurry.” Then she grabbed a chair—she had no idea why she hadn’t thought of it sooner, probably because her brains were scrambled—and shoved it near the table. She turned back to Lucas and pushed him toward the chair. “Get on the table. We’re going out the window.”

  She kept her hands on him to keep him steadied and climbed up beside him. Then she bent for the chair. “Duck,” she said to Lucas. And when he did, she threw the chair against the window.

  It broke straight through the glass and hit the ground. It didn’t sound like too far of a fall, she assured herself.

  There were glass shards still in the window. Lucas was leaning heavily against the wall, looking more unconscious than conscious, but he straightened and pulled off his shirt, grimacing as it brushed his head wound. He tossed it to her. She wrapped her already bleeding hand in the material of the shirt and knocked out the rest of the glass, and then tugged Lucas to the window. “You first, big guy.”

  He resisted, crouching and giving her a push with his shoulder, lifting her with some reserve of strength she hadn’t imagined possible.

  “No,” she gasped. “You first—”

  He never slowed, just shoved her through the window opening.

  For a single heartbeat she clung to the window ledge, the remnants of glass biting into her hands. She didn’t feel it. Her eyes were locked on the ground, only ten feet down or so, her entire body frozen in terror. Well, not exactly frozen since she was shaking like a leaf.

  “Molly.”

  She lifted her head and locked eyes with Lucas’s.

  “Listen to me,” he said, leaning as close as he could without the use of his hands. “You saved us. You did it. You’re amazing, but we’ve got to move. Right now they’re overconfident, unsuspecting that we’re on the move. They won’t stay that way. We have an edge and we need to keep it.”

  “I can’t jump.”

  “Yes, you can. Loosen your arms and lower yourself until your arms and legs are both fully extended. Then it’s only a few feet. I promise, you’ve got this.”

  “But you’re shot and you don’t have use of your hands—”

  “I’ll be right behind you, don’t doubt that for a second.”

  She stared at him and in spite of the urgency, he nodded patiently, no frustration or irritation showing in his face or body.

  “Keep your body loose, not tight,” he said. “Don’t lock your knees. You’ve got this,” he repeated, his gaze calm on hers. Calm and patient, even with one pupil clearly blown and blood dripping down his jaw and onto his bare chest.

  Behind him, she heard the lock rattle, and her fear for him overcame her fear of dropping out another window. “Promise me you’re right behind me!”

  “I promise you.”

  So she took a deep breath, relaxed her body and let go.

  Chapter 25

  #GoElfYourself

  Lucas came to lying flat on his back on a stretcher with people hovering over him using medical speak and poking him with what felt like a very large needle. He hated needles. He tried to sit up, but he also had an oxygen mask on his face, which he shoved aside. “Molly.”

  A hand settled on his chest. Not Molly’s. Joe’s, and not to comfort, but to restrain him.

  “We’ve got Mrs. Claus and Tommy Thumbs in cuffs,” Joe said immediately, knowing that intel was the only way to calm any of them down. “Santa’s in a body bag. The elves made it safely to Reno.” His voice was tight, his eyes were hot. He was pissed that he’d been left out of the loop, and Lucas knew he had every reason to be.

  “Molly,” Lucas said again, shoving one of the EMS’s hands aside as he tried to replace the oxygen mask. “Where is she—”

  “Also being treated. She’s got a few cuts and bruises, but no bullet holes, which I can assume is thanks to you,” Joe said. His voice softened. “Thanks, man, for having her back here tonight and saving her ass.”

  Lucas shook his head. “You’ve got that backwards. She saved my ass. I was out from the moment I got shot. She . . .” He started to shake his head in marvel and pride, but that hurt too much so he closed his eyes. “She fought like pro, and even when she was overpowered, she still got herself out of the cuffs. And then she managed to drag my dead weight over to the window, up onto a table, and get us out. You should’ve seen her.” He opened his eyes again and met Joe’s. “It wasn’t easy for her, but she handled it. She’s handled everything on this case from start to finish like one of us would have. Maybe even better than one of us.”

  Looking troubled, Joe nodded. “They’re transporting you to General—”

  “No, I don’t need a hospital.”

  “Yeah,” Archer said, coming up behind Joe. “You do. You’ve got a bullet lodged in your thigh and a gash on your head that’s going to need like twenty-five staples and maybe a lobotomy while you’re at it since you didn’t call your team. We’re going to circle back to that later when your brains aren’t in danger of leaking out, believe me.”

  Great. He could hardly wait. “Since I didn’t call, why are you all here?”

  “Molly called. Apparently she’s smarter than you. Also, nice look.”

  Lucas looked down at himself. He was still in the elf costume. Correction: half an elf costume, meaning just the short shorts.

  Archer slid Joe a look. “Might want to get a pic of that for future leverage.”

  Joe patted his pocket. “Already did.”

  “I’m going to release you,” the ER doctor told Molly.

  She started to get up, but he held out a hand to stop her. “But only,” he continued, “if you promise me to take it easy for a few days and let those cuts and bruises heal before going back to work.”

  “It’s okay, my work isn’t—” She broke off. She’d been about to say her work wasn’t dangerous, that it was desk work, but given the past twenty-four hours, she’d be lying. “I’ll rest,” she promised. Not a lie since, thanks to a nice, big, fat, pink pill, she was feeling pleasantly numb. “Where’s Lucas?”

  “Coming out of surgery.”

  “I want to see him,” she said and this time managed to sit up, hiding her wince of pain that the movement caused.

  “You need to move slowly,” the doctor said. “As for Lucas, someone will let you know when that’s possible.”

  When he was gone, Molly looked at Joe sitting moodily in the chair in the corner. He hadn’t left her side, but nor had he uttered a word.

  “I’m going to see him,” she said stubbornly.

  He ran a hand down his face. “Do you have any idea what went on tonight?”

  “Yeah, Joe.” She waved her bandaged, stitched-up hand. “I’ve got a pretty good idea considering I had a front row seat.”

  He sat back with a heavy sigh. “You took ten years off my life.”

  “Welcome to the club,” she said. “Remember last year when you got hurt on the job and were in the hospital for two days before we knew you were going to be okay? I was sitting right where you were, so I get it. I know. And for the record, what happened tonight doesn’t come anywhere close to all the times I’ve been in your shoes.”

  Joe grimaced, looking pained. “Look . . . I know, okay? And I’m sorry.”

  She stared at him, waiting for the rest of that sentence. When Joe held his silence, she shook her head. “Wow. A sorry without a but on the end of it. Did it hurt?”

  “Okay,” he said. “I deserve that. I’ve . . . been hard on you.”

  “Not hard,” she said. “Impossible.”

  “I’m working on that.” He paused when she gave him a disbelieving