by Rose, Karen
This wasn’t a good day. Dread hung heavy, weighing her down like a lead apron.
‘Yep,’ Rafe was saying. ‘Plan on staying for dinner. Mom will be happy to have a full house.’ He ended the call and reached out again, stroking Rory with tentative fingers. ‘It will be okay, Mercy.’
She forced a smile. ‘Of course it will.’ She drew a deep breath. Be brave. ‘And for you,’ she murmured, because she needed him to know.
He leaned in closer, his scent a balm to her frayed senses. ‘For me?’ he whispered.
She nodded. ‘I came back for Gideon. But also for you.’ To tell you that this will never work out. She needed to say those words, too. But the look on his face had her mouth closing, blocking the grim pronouncement.
It was a wonder that he didn’t light up the entire vehicle, his grin was so bright. He was . . . golden.
But his voice was still barely audible when he replied, ‘I hoped so. I missed you.’
She hadn’t cried during the whole airport fiasco, not while the police were asking her questions, not while the crowd of people craned their necks to see who she was and why she was causing such a stir. But those three little words had her eyes burning. I missed you.
She’d missed him, too. His smile, his quiet happiness, his laughter. The way he made her feel like she was . . . enough. She turned her head before he could see her tears, but she was too late.
Or he was simply too observant, because a soft handkerchief was pushed into her hand. ‘It’s clean.’
She choked on a laugh. ‘Thank you.’
He leaned back in his seat, looking like the cat that got the cream. On other men it would look conceited and smug. On Rafe, it looked happy.
He missed me.
She wasn’t sure what it meant. Wasn’t sure that she should even allow him to feel such things. But she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to lean into him, to draw from his strength, to warm herself with the heat that he put out. He was like a furnace.
But she didn’t.
She wasn’t made to give effortless affection like he did. Maybe I never will. Maybe after Ephraim’s abuse, she’d never be normal. Fury at Ephraim Burton suddenly bubbled and boiled over. She wished she’d killed him.
He touched me. Cut me. Was going to take me back to Eden. And I was going to let him. She’d allowed him to lead her away, a lamb to slaughter, and she hadn’t even tried to fight.
That made her angrier, but the anger was at herself, and she deflated. I’m so tired.
And then something warm brushed her elbow and she looked down to see that Rafe had placed his hand on the bench seat, palm up, about three inches from her hip. Just there, no pressure.
Hers to take. If she wanted.
And she wanted. Loneliness swelled, taking her by surprise.
Be brave. Be a different Mercy. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than comfort. Just like Rory gives.
Which actually was humorous. How ridiculous. The comfort she got from her cat was nothing like what she could get from Rafe Sokolov. But at least I can do humor. Her lips curled upward and she readjusted the cat so that her hand was free. Carefully she placed her palm on his, her shoulders sagging when he twined their fingers together. It was real. And secure.
He never said a word. Never even indicated that they were touching. Except for the tiny squeezes that he gave her every few minutes or so, until Sasha pulled the SUV into the Sokolovs’ driveway.
‘We’re home,’ Sasha announced. ‘The kitties can chill in my old bedroom unless you need to hold one when Gideon comes.’
Ah. Sasha had figured out that Mercy’s cats helped reduce her anxiety, much like Daisy’s service dog, Brutus, a tiny papillon mix. That wasn’t a big surprise, though. Sasha was a social worker. Empathy was her stock-in-trade.
‘I think I’ll be okay without them,’ Mercy said, and Rafe gave her hand another little squeeze before letting her go to open his car door.
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ he said. ‘I texted Mom that we were coming with guests. She’s cooking.’
‘I’m starving,’ Farrah said lightly. ‘What is she cooking?’
Sasha shrugged. ‘Something Russian. Whatever it is, it’ll be amazing. Farrah, can you take the other cat? I’ll get the litter boxes and food. You need your chair, Rafe?’
‘No. I’m good.’ He swung his legs from the SUV, leaning on his cane as his feet hit the pavement. ‘Better hustle, Mercy. Dinner is waiting and we are not very polite. You snooze, you lose around here.’
Holding Rory as tightly as the cat would allow, Mercy followed them in. Maybe it would be okay after all. And then the police cruiser pulled up behind them, blocking the driveway, reminding Mercy of the bitter truth.
Ephraim Burton was still out there and he would be back. Picking up her pace, she all but fled into the Sokolovs’ house. Where it was safe. For now.
Granite Bay, California
Saturday, 15 April, 7.50 P.M.
‘Welcome, welcome!’ Irina Sokolov ushered them all into their family home, a smile on her face. ‘My goodness, you two girls must be exhausted after your trip.’
And your ordeal went unsaid. Diplomacy and hospitality were Rafe’s mother’s gifts and he loved her for them, especially at the moment when Mercy rushed into the house, looking over her shoulder at the cruiser parked across the driveway.
Her smile was gone and Rafe wanted it back. He’d managed to eke one out, there at the end, but he’d been watching her over his shoulder as she’d given the cruiser a long, hard stare, the pale haunted look returning to her face.
‘Mercy. It is so good to see you again.’ Irina started to give Mercy a hug, then hung back. ‘You’re bleeding.’ She shot Rafe an outraged glare. ‘Why did you not tell me that she was injured?’
Rafe frowned at the red stain spreading on Mercy’s blouse. She’d changed in the restroom at the airport, giving the bloody blouse that Ephraim had sliced to the police for evidence. But this new blouse was now bloody as well. ‘She said she’d stopped bleeding.’
‘And I didn’t want him to tell you, Mrs Sokolov,’ Mercy said. ‘I’m really okay. I must have bumped it when I was getting out of the SUV. I’ll just change again. Please start dinner without me. I don’t want to make everyone wait.’
‘Nonsense,’ Irina tutted. ‘I will have a quick look and bandage you myself.’ She turned to Farrah, her smile wide. ‘You are Mercy’s friend from New Orleans, yes?’
‘Yes. I’m Farrah Romero. Thank you for inviting us to dinner. I hope we haven’t intruded.’
‘Dr Farrah Romero,’ Sasha inserted. ‘Mom, I’m going to set Mercy’s cats up in my room. Don’t let Rafe eat all the kavardak!’ she called as she charged up the stairs, cat supplies in hand.
Irina shook her head. ‘There will be plenty. I made extra. Come with me, Mercy. We’ll go to my powder room on this floor. I have a first-aid kit there. Farrah, we have other bathrooms if you’d like to freshen up before dinner. Karl!’
Rafe’s father appeared in the kitchen doorway, a Kiss the Chef apron covering his suit. Rafe realized he must have a meeting downtown later that night.
Or . . . Crap. Rafe blew out a breath. He’d forgotten that his parents had tickets to a play tonight. His mother did look awfully nice. They should have been in their seats at the theater by now.
Oh. Dammit. They skipped the play, he thought, feeling relief mixed with guilt. He’d needed his parents tonight and they’d dropped everything to help, just as they always did.
‘Yes, my love?’ Karl said sweetly, perking up when he saw Mercy and Farrah. ‘Welcome, ladies. I hope you’re hungry.’
‘They will eat,’ Irina said firmly, and Rafe watched his father bite back a grin. ‘I need you to go to the SUV and get their luggage.’ She made a shooing motion to Mercy. ‘The powder room is at the end of the hall. Let’s get yo
u bandaged up. Farrah, my husband can show you around when he comes back with your bags.’
‘What about me?’ Rafe asked, feeling extremely useless, which seemed to be his norm these days. Hold on, there. You kept Mercy safe tonight. That’s not useless. ‘What can I do?’
‘Go stir the stew,’ his father said as he passed Rafe in the foyer. ‘That’s what I was doing. Don’t let it burn.’ But he stopped, hand on the doorknob. ‘What’s that?’
Rafe looked to where Karl was pointing. ‘My new cane.’ Unlike the wooden cane that his father had hand-made for him when Rafe had left the hospital, this new cane was a cheap aluminum model that Sasha had picked up at a drugstore near the airport. ‘I had to surrender the one you gave me to the Feds as evidence, because I used it to hit that bastard Burton. They say I’ll get it back.’
Karl frowned. ‘But that one’s not tall enough for you and you’re hurting. I’ll make you another one. Go, give the stew a stir, then sit down.’ And then he was gone to do Irina’s bidding. That was Rafe’s dad. He saw opportunities to help, so he helped. No questions, no looking for credit. Karl Sokolov was the best man Rafe had ever known.
And Karl was right about the cane. It wasn’t a good fit at all. Rafe made his way into the kitchen, wincing at the pain shooting up his thigh.
‘Did you reinjure your leg?’ Farrah asked quietly as she followed him. ‘You must have hit it hard when you took Burton down in the airport.’
‘I may have,’ Rafe admitted dolefully, because it hurt like hell. ‘It didn’t bother me until we got out of the SUV, but that was mostly adrenaline, I think. I’ll make an appointment with the doctor to check it out.’
‘Thank you,’ Farrah murmured, meeting his eyes. She was a tall woman, taller even than Mercy, who was about five feet eight.
‘For what?’ he asked, genuinely puzzled.
Her brows lifted. ‘For saving Mercy’s life, both tonight and six weeks ago. She’s like a sister to me and we all love her. The thought that she might have been killed . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘I can’t even consider it.’
Rafe shuddered at both memories, but Mercy’s lack of affect was what disturbed him most. He dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. ‘She walked away with him, Farrah. It was like she wasn’t even there.’
She nodded, moving to the stove, her gaze troubled. ‘I know.’ Picking up the spoon Rafe’s father had been using, she took over the stirring. ‘Sit, Rafe. Elevate that leg. I’ll get you an ice pack and I have some ibuprofen in my purse.’
‘There’s an ice pack in the freezer,’ he said, grunting his discomfort as he obeyed her orders. ‘I’ll take a couple ibuprofen, thanks. Can you get me a glass of water? Glasses are in the cupboard next to the fridge. Have you seen her like that before?’
‘You mean all zombielike?’ She gave him the ice pack, painkillers, and a glass of water, then took the chair beside him, her attention split between him and the simmering pot. ‘Once. But it wasn’t as bad as it was today.’ She hesitated, then firmed her lips, as if not wanting to share more.
Rafe understood. ‘I want you to keep her secrets,’ he said quietly. ‘She’s lost control of so many of them. We know what happened to her in that cult, whether she wanted us to or not. Same with her abduction back in February. She wasn’t allowed any privacy during either of those situations. If she’s shared things with you in confidence, I don’t want to intrude. I won’t intrude.’
Farrah’s smile was quick and bright. ‘I think I like you, Detective.’
He had to smile back. There was no other alternative in the presence of such unfettered optimism. ‘Likewise, Doctor.’ He downed a few painkillers, hoping they worked. When the pain was this bad, they weren’t as effective. ‘So how did you two meet?’
‘She was my roommate at Tulane,’ Farrah said fondly. ‘I got back to my room after an orientation and there was this pasty white girl sitting on the other bed with this lost look on her face. She was overwhelmed that day – too much activity, too much noise, too many people. My sister gets like that sometimes, overstimulated, y’know. So I sat down next to her and put my arm around her shoulders and said, “Hi, I’m Farrah and I’m a hugger. I come from a family of huggers and you’re stuck with me for the next few months. Live with it, girl”.’
Rafe chuckled. ‘And how did that go over?’
‘About like you’d think. She got all stiff and proper with “I’m Mercy and I’m not a hugger.” She moved about a foot away, with that look on her face – the one that says she’s not amused. But then I gave her a cookie and she kind of melted.’ Farrah returned to the stove to stir the stew. ‘She was just . . . hurting and touch-shy. But Mercy has a good heart.’
‘I know.’ He did know. She’d sat with him for hours after he was shot, reading to him, watching whatever he wanted on the TV. Encouraging him when he was down. Little touches that he’d quickly realized were a big deal for her. ‘But now she hugs you back?’
‘Yes, but it took a long time. Not until I took her home for Sunday dinner and my mama got hold of her. Mama cuddled her and fed her and fussed over her and Mercy hadn’t ever had that before.’
‘She’d been in foster care up until that point,’ Rafe said carefully, not sure how to get the information he wanted without violating Mercy’s confidences.
‘Yes, she had. They weren’t bad people, her foster-parents. They wanted to give her love and affection. They wanted to adopt her, but Mercy wasn’t ready for that. I guess she finally was by the time our paths crossed.’
That Mercy’s foster family had been good to her was a relief. That they’d wanted to adopt her was a surprise. He was almost certain that Gideon hadn’t been aware of it. But another question rose in his mind, because Mercy’s path had crossed Farrah’s. ‘Why New Orleans? What brought Mercy there?’
Farrah focused on stirring the stew. ‘That’s a question you’ll have to ask Mercy.’
‘I will.’ He steered the conversation away from Mercy because that creak of the floorboard meant that someone was coming. ‘But you’re a New Orleans native?’
Farrah grinned. ‘Born and raised. Probably’ll stay there till I’m old and pruney.’
Rafe was charmed. ‘Why?’
‘Because my family is there.’
‘And her captain,’ Mercy said, entering the kitchen. She took a deep, appreciative breath before gingerly sitting at the table next to Rafe. ‘That stew smells really good.’
He tried not to get too excited by her seating choice, but it was hard when she was so near. She smelled like flowers, and the emerald green sweater she’d changed into hugged every one of her lush curves. Don’t rush her. Do not rush her. ‘Did Mom get you fixed up?’
Mercy nodded. ‘It needed a few butterfly bandages, just like I said. What smells so good?’
So her injury was not a topic of conversation. Rafe could work around it. For now. ‘It’s kavardak, which is really just a homestyle beef stew. The word means “mess”, so you basically throw whatever you want into it. Mom’s is the best.’ He pointed to Farrah. ‘Who is her captain?’
‘Captain André Holmes,’ Mercy said with a fond smile. ‘Farrah’s . . . intended.’
Farrah snorted a laugh. ‘That’s what he calls himself. My “intended”.’ She wiggled the fingers on her left hand, showing off a diamond that sparkled. ‘But he put a ring on it, so he can call it whatever he likes, even if he’s old-fashioned about it.’
‘Pozdravlayu c pomolvkoy!’ Rafe told her. ‘Congratulations on your engagement. May you have a happy home, blessed with laughter.’
‘Who is to have a happy home?’ his mother asked, shooing Farrah away from the stove after entering the room. ‘I’ll take over here. You are a guest. You sit and relax. I’ll make tea.’
‘Farrah is engaged,’ Mercy said, patting her friend’s hand when she sat at the table with them. ‘Her fianc
é is a captain with New Orleans PD.’
Irina sighed. ‘More police officers. I am surrounded by them – three of my eight children are police officers. The fiancé, he is a good man?’
‘A very good man,’ Mercy assured her. ‘He’s been my friend for years. I introduced them.’
Farrah rolled her eyes. ‘Only because we were at a party and Mercy wanted to escape. She’d promised me that she’d stay for a while, but figured she could get out if I was distracted by a tall hunk of gorgeous man.’
Irina winked at her. ‘Was she right?’
‘Yes, I was,’ Mercy said. ‘They couldn’t take their eyes off each other. And I only agreed to go to the party to get Farrah to go because I knew André would be there,’ she added smugly. ‘I knew they’d be perfect for each other and they are.’
Irina put a loaf of bread in the oven, then put on a kettle to heat. ‘It was that way with Gideon and Daisy. I knew they’d be perfect together and they are, but they stubbornly resisted being introduced by me. Gideon actually denied himself my cooking for several months because Daisy attended our Sunday dinners.’
Farrah glanced at Mercy, whose smile had disappeared at the mention of Gideon. ‘How did they finally meet, then, if they rebuffed your matchmaking attempts?’ Farrah asked.
‘I introduced them,’ Rafe said. ‘I’d known Daisy since she was a little girl and she’d recently come back to town, but she was attacked and nearly abducted.’
‘Oh.’ Farrah’s gaze settled on Mercy, who’d grown a little pale. ‘The same one who took you, Merce?’
Mercy nodded soberly. ‘The same. Daisy pulled a necklace from her attacker’s throat when she was fighting for her life. A locket. Rafe had seen the design before, because Gideon used to have a nearly identical tattoo. Rafe called Gideon for help on the case.’
‘And then Gideon and Daisy realized I was right all along,’ Irina finished, then cocked her head as a car door slammed outside. ‘And here they are, just in time for dinner.’
Beside him, Mercy tensed.