Ephraim didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to plan. Simply drew his own gun, shot at the cop through the window, and drove away like a bat out of hell.
So much for staying under the radar, he thought grimly. He might as well take out a skywriting ad now. Hey, Mercy, I’m back. Run and hide so that I can never find you.
But Mercy Callahan was not his biggest worry at the moment. He’d shot a fucking cop. They’d be looking for him. He circled the fancy private school, heading around to the back. The custodian had parked his truck in the back, so that was where he headed.
Leaving the Jeep behind, he was in the truck and had it hot-wired in under a minute. Stealing so many cars recently had sharpened his skills again. The truck was old, but it started. It was a far cry from the luxury vehicles the rich kids had been driving, but it would do for now.
Granite Bay, California
Tuesday, 18 April, 6.15 P.M.
‘Mercy, wake up.’ Rafe jostled her shoulder. ‘Time to wake up.’
Mercy didn’t want to wake up. She was warm and Rafe’s arms were around her. But she immediately knew that they weren’t in his bed. They were still in the FBI van and she was on his lap and . . . oh God. She’d had another meltdown, hadn’t she? ‘My head hurts.’
Rafe kissed her forehead. ‘I’d be surprised if it didn’t. I bet my mom can fix you right up, though. So get up. We can’t sit in the van, even in the garage. It’s too dangerous.’
Mercy slid from his lap, trying to blink away the haze left over from what had been an epic crying jag. Farrah and the others must have already gone inside, because it was just the two of them in the van.
Rafe climbed out, unable to hide a grimace of pain. ‘It wasn’t you,’ he said when she opened her mouth to apologize. ‘I would have held you for twice as long. It’s not the sitting. It’s the getting up.’ He extended his hand. ‘Come on. We need to get inside.’
Mercy hurried, getting a glimpse of the street in front of the Sokolovs’ house as the garage door was rolling down. ‘Who’s here?’ There were two more SUVs parked on the street in front of the Sokolovs’ house, both of them black.
‘They’re bodyguards,’ Farrah said from the doorway into the laundry room. She looked exhausted and held Rory’s cat carrier in her arms.
Rafe urged her forward. ‘We can explain inside.’
Mercy stopped once they were in the laundry room and Rafe had closed the door into the garage. ‘What happened? What’s Ephraim done now?’
Rafe sighed. ‘Shot a cop. While he was parked a block away from Zoya’s school.’
Mercy had to grab onto the washing machine to keep from crumpling to the floor. ‘He was going after Zoya? Why?’
‘Probably trying to lure me out,’ Rafe said bitterly. ‘What an asshole. I’m glad she listened when I asked her to stay home today.’ He pointed an index finger at Mercy. ‘And don’t you think this is your fault, either.’
Mercy shook her head. Of course she thought it was her fault. It is my fault.
‘Come have some tea, Mercy,’ Farrah said.
Irina appeared, putting her arm around Farrah’s shoulders, her smile brittle. ‘I have the kettle heating. Sit down and let me feed you. Zoya is fine. She’s in the office with Meg.’
Meg, another of Irina’s daughters, was a deputy sheriff and had probably raced over here as soon as she’d heard that Zoya had been a target.
Poor Irina. The normally centered woman was wound as tight as a drum. And who could blame her? Not me. Of course, Irina might blame me, and she’d be right to do so.
How many more of Irina’s family would be hurt because of Mercy’s presence in their lives?
Silently, they joined Gideon, Daisy, André, and Liza, who were already sitting with Karl at the table, which was overflowing with food, a testament to Irina’s level of stress. The tension was thick as Irina served them and became thicker with each moment that the eight of them ate without speaking, because even Karl was silent. There was a grim determination to the meal, like they all felt that the other shoe was poised to drop.
So it’s not just me.
Mercy had noticed right away that Tom hadn’t joined them, but figured he was talking with the new bodyguards. Mercy had also noticed that the sink was full of dishes. The sight almost made her smile, despite the dread curling around her gut. Irina had probably fed all of the agents outside.
Irina Sokolov was so much like Farrah’s mother, Mercy felt at home. If you stayed, you could be home.
If I stayed? The thought tantalized, even as it terrified her. She had family in New Orleans – her half brothers and sisters and the Romeros. She had a job that she really loved.
But Rafe is here. And Gideon. And Irina had welcomed her with open arms.
Unless Ephraim continued hurting the Sokolov family. He’d already shot Sasha, tried to shoot Rafe, and tried to abduct Zoya. Irina might be rethinking that welcome right now.
Well, shit. Mercy dropped her eyes to her plate, unable to eat another bite. She’d brought trouble into this household. No, she hadn’t done anything to cause the trouble. Except that I survived. She couldn’t be sorry for that, no matter how much Irina might be blaming her.
My mother sacrificed her life so that I could survive. It was the thought that had kept Mercy going every time she’d wanted to give up.
Finally André broke the silence, making Mercy want to kiss him. ‘Irina, that was delicious. My mother would love the recipe.’ He smiled at Irina, who’d only sipped at a cup of tea while the rest of them ate their fill. ‘She’d trade recipes with you, of course, and she is an excellent cook.’
Farrah gave André a look of clear appreciation, because Irina seemed to relax a fraction. ‘She really is an amazing cook, Irina. She’s been teaching me.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You know, so her baby boy doesn’t starve.’
Irina chuckled. ‘We can’t have that, can we?’ She put down her cup and sighed. ‘Mercy, we need to have a talk.’
Mercy straightened her spine and exhaled slowly, fighting the burn of tears in her eyes. She’d cried more in the last four days than she had in the last four years. ‘I figured as much. I can . . .’ What? Leave? To go where? ‘I’ll, um, find another place. As soon as I can.’
There was a beat of silence, then Rafe shoved his plate away. ‘What the hell?’ he snarled. ‘No, you will not find another place. Mom, what’s this about? You’re scaring her.’
‘Don’t talk to your mother that way,’ Karl warned. ‘Everyone take a breath and relax.’
Irina was frowning at Mercy, then covered her mouth with her hand as understanding seemed to dawn. ‘Oh no. No, Mercy. I’m so sorry. I never thought . . . But I should have. Of course I should have.’ Muttering in Russian, she got up from her chair to crouch next to Mercy’s chair. ‘I am so sorry, lubimaya. You think I’m upset with you. I’m not.’ She took Mercy’s hand and squeezed. ‘We have some guests. I don’t want you caught unaware, but I’m not sure how to prepare you.’