Ethan raised a questioning brow, his gaze softening as he looked at Molly. “What do you feel like eating? I can cook,” he offered, his voice gentle with concern.

  “It's late. We can order in.” Molly wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture of both comfort and vulnerability.

  Ethan cocked his head, his eyes searching hers with a tenderness that made her heart flutter. “My dove,” he began, his voice a soothing murmur, “I know this has to be hard for you. I know you haven't shared your space with a man before.”

  She nodded, a rush of emotions swirling within her. “I feel so confused,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I barely know you, but every time you touch me, my body feels like I've known you all my life.”

  Ethan blew out a breath, something she couldn’t read flashing in his eyes. “Well, let's work together to fix that,” he said softly. “First, what do you feel like eating?”

  She glanced at her watch, realizing the lateness of the hour. “The only place open at this time is the Fieldhouse by the college,” Molly replied. “I'll have a cheeseburger deluxe with onion rings. I have wine here.”

  Ethan laughed again, the sound warm and comforting. “I'll order. Why don't you shower and get comfortable?”

  As Molly emerged from the bathroom, clad in a fluffy pink robe over her pajamas and her hair wrapped in a towel, she found Ethan setting the table with their fast food. She laughed at the contrast between her indulgent meal choice and his more sensible one. He chose the chicken sandwich and no fried foods.

  She remarked with a playful smile, “I guess that's how you stay so slim.”

  “And I'm forty-five,” he added, a touch of self-deprecation coloring his tone. “Weight sticks on you the older you get.” Ethan's eyes softened as he looked at her. “So, my dove, tell me everything about yourself you haven’t told me.” His voice was filled with genuine curiosity and affection.

  As she watched him over the rim of her wine glass, a sense of ease washed over her, emboldening her to share more of herself. “I just turned twenty-nine,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “I told you about my four sisters. My mom, Charlotte, is a widow. When I was six, my dad was murdered in an arson fire.” She shook her head, a mix of sadness and resignation flickering in her eyes. “I don't remember much about him, except his smell. He smelled of musk and smoke.

  “I have to tell my mom what's happening,” Molly continued, her thoughts drifting to the woman who had raised her.

  Ethan listened attentively. “I'd love to meet with your family. I met your mom and sisters in a combination of places, but I’d really like to let them know I plan to keep you safe.” He refilled their glasses. “We have two weeks before we head to Miami for the first competition.”

  As they continued to share, Ethan posed a series of questions, diving deeper into Molly's life and preferences. “Religion, children, condo or big house, favorite food, favorite color,” he inquired, a teasing curiosity shining through.

  Molly giggled. “Catholic, lots of kids, big house on a large piece of land with a garden and lots of animals, gooey grilled cheese all different ways, and pink. Now your turn. Same questions.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Catholic. How do you define lots of kids?”

  Molly sighed. “I want them to have siblings. You and Jojo are how many years apart?”

  “We’re eighteen years apart.” His lips pressed together. “She’s had such a hard time. Her sun rose and set on my mom.” He leaned back, his gaze distant as he recounted the past. “I was conflicted when my mom had Jojo so late in her life,” he began, his voice tinged with old frustration. “I didn’t understand why she wanted another child at her age. It felt... unfair.”

  Molly watched him closely.

  “And then she passed away,” he continued, the loss evident in his eyes. “Suddenly, I was responsible for Jojo. It was like my whole life flipped upside down overnight.”

  “That must have been really hard,” Molly said gently.

  Ethan nodded, taking a deep breath. “It was. I had to adjust everything—my job, my social life, my plans for the future. But the one constant, the one thing that kept us both grounded, was dance. The studio was our touchstone.”

  He smiled faintly, the memory bringing light to his expression. “We always had dance in common. It was our way of communicating, of connecting when words failed.”

  Molly cocked her head. “Did Jojo resent you for it?”

  “She hated me for such a long time,” Ethan admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I have to say, I didn’t handle my new role well. I was strict, trying to be both brother and parent, and I made a lot of mistakes.”

  He swiped his face, erasing the emotion threatening to spill over. “But dance... dance and the studio saved us. It gave us a way to heal, to rebuild our relationship. Every step, every routine, it was like we were learning to trust each other again.”

  Molly reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You did the best you could, Ethan. And it sounds like, in the end, you found a way to make it work.”

  Ethan met her eyes, gratitude shining through his pain. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We did. And now, despite everything, Jojo and I have a bond that nothing can break. Dance gave us that. It saved us both.”

  Molly reached for his hand and lifted it to her lips. “I watched you two together. She loves you.”

  Ethan swallowed hard. “I know that now.” He stole one of her onion rings.

  “Hey,” she called out.

  “Okay, back to the questions. Big house on a farm, with a big dance studio. I love a thick ribeye steak, and my favorite color is blue.” Each answer led to more questions.

  They answered them in turn, their words painting vivid pictures of their hopes, dreams, and quirks. Molly was eager to learn everything she could about the man who had entered her life so unexpectedly.

  Their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through stories and laughter until the early hours of the morning.

  Emerging from the shower, Ethan made his way to Molly's bedroom, intending to slip into bed and make love to her. However, as he entered the room, he found her peacefully asleep, her breathing steady.

  With a soft smile, Ethan approached the bed, his heart and his cock swelling with affection as he watched her sleep. Gently, he peeled back the covers and slipped in beside her, the warmth of her body drawing him close.

  In her sleep, Molly stirred and wrapped her body around his. Ethan's smile widened, a sense of contentment settling over him as he embraced her.

  Molly awoke to the gentle touch of sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bed. Stretching, she realized Ethan wasn't beside her. With a soft sigh, she climbed out of bed and went about her morning routine, dressing quickly before making her way down the hall toward the kitchen.

  Before she entered the room, she was greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and the murmur of voices. Alex and Ethan were engaged in conversation, their words hushed but intense. Molly listened quietly, piecing together fragments of their discussion.

  “...physical evidence from the women found in the tractor trailer was compromised,” Alex was saying, his tone grave. “But the evidence from the women who burned in the shipping container was found untainted. The problem is there is no interpretation attached. I know you are rehearsing like crazy, but I need Molly to look at them unofficially.”

  “Unofficially? She’s the ME.” Ethan paused. “What?”

  “It was a huge breach. It occurred under her watch,” Alex choked out. “They’re going to suspend her pending an investigation.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Ethan demanded.

  Molly leaned her head against the wall.

  “You’re here to serve her the suspension.”

  She heard a hand slap the counter.

  “I figured it was better coming from me than some state bureaucrat,” Alex said.

  Molly approached the kitchen island, where Ethan poured her a cup of coffee. She kissed Alex's cheek in greeting before turning to Ethan, who pulled her into a lingering kiss, nibbling softly at her lips. She didn’t want to admit she was eavesdropping.

  “Hey, my dove,” Ethan greeted her with a smile. “Come sit. What can I make you for breakfast?”

  Molly considered for a moment before replying, “I guess I'll have some avocado toast. You see, I have this taskmaster who is making me stay calorie-controlled.” She giggled, earning a playful swat from Ethan.

  “Smartass.” He chuckled. “I guess Alex and I will eat the French toast.”

  Molly pouted playfully as Ethan set to work on breakfast. Alex turned to her, his expression serious. “Could you interpret some reports for us? It's the state coroner’s report on the three deceased women and the medical records on the two living women from the shipping container.”

  “I’ll get my laptop. I can generate a report.” She put her coffee down and started to leave the room.

  Alex closed and opened his eyes. “Honey, I hate this, but…” He passed her a white sealed envelope. “I’m sorry.”

  She took the envelope and opened it. “I figured this was coming. The Department of Health is suspending my ME license pending an investigation.” She inhaled a ragged breath, picked up her coffee mug and wrapped her hands around it.

  “Molly?” Ethan opened his palms.

  “I’ll be alright. It only gives me more rehearsal time.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll have the French toast.”

  Ethan pulled her against him and placed a kiss on her head.

  Molly looked up at his face, which was filled with empathy. “It’s going to be okay. Where is that report? I may not be licensed, but they didn’t suspend my brain.” She pulled her purse off the chair and retrieved a pair of glasses. Ethan looked at her curiously as she admitted to wearing contact lenses.

  Alex handed her the files, and Molly delved into them with a sense of trepidation. “Still no IDs yet?”

  “Waiting on DNA,” Alex replied grimly. “We have an idea but won't commit, and with the ten you have and these five, the state is going to repeat everything because of the breach.”

  Molly couldn’t hide the shudder at the mention of the compromised evidence. “Have you found Deborah?”

  Once again, Alex shook his head.

  Her focus shifted to the files before her, and she began to pore over them with a furrowed brow. As she examined the medical records, her hand covered her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Ethan sounded worried.

  “All five of these women were at least twelve weeks pregnant,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “According to the hospital records, the two survivors miscarried. You can get paternal DNA.”

  Ethan slid the pan off the burner, his expression reflecting her growing unease. “You did the post on the ten frozen women,” he stated more than asked.

  Molly nodded, her thoughts racing. “None of them were pregnant, but...” She trailed off, a sense of realization dawning on her. Taking a deep breath, she excused herself from the table, returning moments later with a computer bag. She signed on and began to scan through the data, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

  “They didn’t disable my sign-on yet. I was working from home after we nearly drowned,” she explained. “I was studying the data. I'm not supposed to keep the computer at home, but...” she shrugged, “they can’t double-suspend me.”

  Suddenly, her face lit up with a mixture of relief and alarm. “Got it,” she breathed. “My spreadsheet is still here. Every woman had elevated levels of folic acid and iron. They also had elevated progesterone and decreased prolactin.”

  “And?” Alex asked.

  “Someone orchestrated these women's pregnancies, manipulating their bodies. Doctors prescribe folic acid and iron for women wanting to get pregnant. They’re over-the-counter. Progesterone is a prescription. And drugs to lower prolactin—it might explain the pill fragments found by the state pathologist in one of the girl’s stomachs.”

  Ethan's jaw clenched as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. “This changes everything and nothing,” he murmured, his voice tight with concern. “We still need to figure out who's behind this and why.”

  Alex nodded. “Agreed. But we need solid evidence if we're going successfully prosecute them.”

  Molly looked crestfallen. “I was about to say, I can cross-reference the data with other cases, see if there are any patterns or connections.”

  “I can do that,” Alex said.

  “I can still reach out to some contacts in the medical field, see if they've come across anything similar,” Molly said.

  Ethan shook his head. “Alex and my agents will do all the reaching out.”

  She pouted. “I can pick up a phone. The state isn’t stopping me from that.”

  “Molly, what if one of the people you reach out to is involved in this? You’d be directing a lot of attention your way. We are facing an unknown adversary. We may have some thoughts on the why, and who, but not enough to protect you,” Alex said.

  Molly didn’t want to understand. She wanted to dive headfirst into this, but hearing Alex say what Ethan had been begging her to understand, she nodded.

  After breakfast, Ethan walked Alex to the door. He turned to Molly. “I’m really sorry about the suspension.”

  Molly's shoulders sagged with her emotions, her resolve wavering as doubts crept in. “I'm still a physician,” she murmured softly. “I can always change specialties.”

  But the situation proved too much for her. The tears she had been trying so hard to contain spilled over, her composure crumbling as she collapsed into Ethan's arms, sobbing.

  Ethan held her tightly, offering what comfort he could. He whispered soothing words, his touch gentle and reassuring as he held her close.

  And as the tears eventually subsided, leaving Molly spent, Ethan scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom where he made love to her. After, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Twenty-Two

  Molly remained sleeping as Ethan got up from bed, his mind engaged with tasks for the day ahead. After showering and dressing, he made his way to the kitchen, where he took a moment to call and check in with his sister Joanne and his aunt. A brief exchange reassured him they were both doing well, albeit worried about him.

  After promises to catch up later, Ethan drank another cup of coffee, his thoughts consumed by the investigation. He had a nagging feeling in his gut. Pulling out his burn phone, he dialed Hamilton’s number.

  “Hey, it's me,” Ethan greeted, his voice low. “I need to know if you have found any other information on women missing from dance schools or competitions.”

  Hamilton listened as his fingers clicked on keys. After a moment, he spoke up, his tone grave. “Now that we have specifics, we have women from dance schools disappearing under suspicious circumstances across the West Coast.”

  “What about newborn trafficking?”

  “Ethan, there’s always infant trafficking.”

  Ethan growled, “I said newborn.”

  “Let me check.”

  Ethan held his breath as Hamilton delved into the search, his heart pounding with anticipation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hamilton spoke again, “Shit. Are you psychic? The DC office is working on some leads.”

  His words sent a chill down Ethan's spine. He wasn’t surprised. The DC and NY offices had the best funding and were assigned the top agents. He’d been offered positions in both offices but chose to stay in South Dakota for his sister.

  “There have been indications of newborn trafficking rings operating in certain regions, with ties to organized crime.”

  Ethan's jaw tightened as he processed the information. If there was any truth to these leads, it meant they were dealing with something far more dangerous than they initially realized.

  “Thanks for the update. I need a copy of that report,” Ethan said, his voice steely. “I'll keep you posted on my end.”

  With that, Ethan ended the call. He’d set off toward the dance studio when Molly awakened. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Molly walked into the kitchen, wiping sleep from her eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me? I didn’t mean to sleep this late.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. Go get dressed, and we can head to the studio. We need to pick our competition songs.”

  Ethan finally broke the silence. “What's wrong, Molly?”

  She hesitated for a moment before admitting her insecurities. “I don't feel talented enough to compete,” she confessed softly, her voice filled with self-doubt.

  Ethan reached out to gently grasp her hand. “Molly, you are more than talented,” he assured her. “Adeline is a phenomenal dancer and a good partner, but when I dance with you, I feel a connection I've never had before. You have a gift, Molly, and I believe in you.”

  Molly nodded as she watched out the window.

  As they continued their journey, Ethan couldn't shake the feelings building within him. He had to make things right, to reassure Molly of his intentions and the depth of his feelings for her.

  “My dove,” Ethan began. “I'd like to meet with your family. I'd like them to know what's going on, and for them to know that you mean more to me than this case. I plan to see you long after this case is done.”

  Molly's head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You mean that?”

  Ethan met her gaze, his expression earnest and unwavering. “I don't sleep with women because of a case,” he replied, his words laced with sincerity. “And I mean every word I say.”

  Molly nodded again, chewing her lip. She had no reason not to believe Ethan. She had seen firsthand his devotion to his sister, the warmth of his home, and the sincerity in his eyes when he spoke and when they made love. Yet, the prospect of taking him to meet her family felt scary.

  “I guess it would be best to meet my family in a safe place,” Molly admitted hesitantly. “I'll call my mom, see if she'd be willing to host it.”

 

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