‘Yeah. Just . . . get my chair, please.’
Sasha nodded and went to fetch his wheelchair, which had rolled away when he’d launched himself out of it to strike Burton with his cane. Wish I’d shot him in the back when I had the chance. But he hadn’t, and it pissed him off. He’d grabbed his cane instead. His fucking cane.
He’d been on disability for six weeks, but as soon as he’d been able to stand, he’d gone to the range every damn week to keep his skills sharp, his reflexes sharper. And to feel like a cop again, just for a little while, even though he wasn’t sure he ever would be one again.
Why hadn’t he drawn his weapon? Why had that damn cane been his first reflex?
He’d have to worry about it later. For now, he needed to focus on Mercy. At least he’d kept her from Burton’s clutches. For now.
The man had come for her thirteen years after her escape. Rafe had never believed he’d given up. But how had Burton found her? How had he known she’d be at the airport today? He started to ask Farrah who else had known they’d be on that flight, when the woman exhaled in audible relief.
‘I think she’s coming around,’ Farrah said in a low voice.
Mercy was blinking now, slowly. With purpose, unlike the robotic way she’d blinked before. She looked to the right, then left, then closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.
‘For what, baby girl?’ Farrah whispered in a kind of crooning singsong tone.
Mercy shook her head slightly. ‘I don’t know. Is he gone?’
‘Yeah,’ Rafe answered. ‘He’s gone. You’re safe. Are you hurt anywhere other than your side, anywhere that we can’t see?’
She touched her side, opening her eyes to see her blood-covered fingers. ‘Oh.’ Then she turned to Rafe, her head tilted in the exact way that Gideon’s did when he was puzzling something out. ‘You’re here.’
He wasn’t sure if it was a yay-you’re-here, or a why-the-hell-are-you-here, or simple surprise to see him. It was impossible to determine from her flat expression and tone. ‘I came to meet you. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you in case you didn’t want to see me, so I stayed out of the way until Sasha could tell you that I’d come along.’
But he wasn’t giving Mercy the option to tell him to leave. There was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Not now.
Sasha crouched beside them again, having retrieved his wheelchair. ‘I was going to ask you if you were okay with him being here when you came out of the ladies’ room, but then . . .’ She shrugged.
‘Yeah,’ Mercy said in a monotone. ‘Then.’ She was talking now, responding to conversation, but her expression was completely closed off, her eyes unreadable.
But at least she wasn’t blankly staring. That had been damn creepy.
A team of medics made their way through the crowd and one of them went down on one knee in front of Mercy. ‘Hi. I’m Rick. I understand you had a bit of excitement here. How can I help you?’
‘She needs stitches,’ Farrah said.
‘I’m fine,’ Mercy said in that same flat tone.
‘You’re not fine,’ Farrah said sharply. ‘Goddammit, woman, will you let someone take care of you for once?’
Mercy didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just sat there as calmly as if she’d been meditating. ‘I am fine.’ She looked at the medic. ‘I’m so sorry to have bothered you, but as you can see, I don’t need medical attention. A few Band-Aids will be sufficient for the cut on my side.’
‘Mercy,’ Farrah whispered brokenly. Tears were slipping down her cheeks. ‘Please.’
Mercy patted Farrah’s hand absently. ‘I’ve had a lot worse, Ro. I’m okay. I promise.’
That did not make Rafe feel even a little better. Or Farrah, from the way her face crumpled.
Sasha met Rafe’s gaze helplessly. ‘We can’t force her to get medical attention.’
Rafe sighed. ‘Let’s take her to Mom and Dad’s.’ He glanced at Farrah. ‘Mom’s a retired nurse. She’ll know what to do.’
Farrah’s nod was shaky. ‘Okay. Thank you.’
‘Are you okay with that, Mercy?’ Sasha asked.
‘I have to get the cats settled,’ Mercy replied, not answering the question. But she hadn’t said no and Rafe wasn’t going to ask again.
‘I can get the cats settled for you,’ Sasha said. ‘Will you allow me to do that for you, at least?’
‘I need Rory.’
Rafe frowned, the sudden spurt of jealousy both irrational and real. ‘Who is Rory?’ Then he remembered. ‘The cat. Right. Jack-Jack and Rory, right?’
Mercy looked at him then, her expression so serene it was terrifying in its own right. ‘Right.’ She drew a breath. ‘Thank you. I . . .’ She looked away. ‘Just, thank you.’
He didn’t dare touch her. She was so incredibly fragile. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he did know that I was doing my job or Anytime were bad responses. He decided on, ‘You’re welcome.’
Sasha handed Rafe his phone. ‘The operator came back. She said the ambulance is here.’
‘No,’ Mercy said loudly, and then she did flinch, having startled herself. ‘No hospital. No ambulance.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Rafe said, making his voice as gentle as he could, then relayed the information to the operator, but it was too late.
Another pair of medics rushed in, pushing a stretcher. Rafe ended the call with 911 dispatch, then reached for his cane. Grimacing, he pushed up, his good leg bearing his weight as he lowered himself into the wheelchair. He only used the chair when there was a lot of walking involved, like at an airport. He hated the chair, but he found his legs were weak and rubbery. It was his adrenaline crashing, but knowing that didn’t make him any happier about having to use the chair. Hooking his cane over the back, he propelled himself to meet the medics halfway.
‘Do you need help, sir?’ one of them asked.
‘Not me.’ Rafe showed them his police ID. ‘The injured woman is over there.’ He pointed to where Sasha and Farrah were helping Mercy to her feet. ‘She doesn’t want medical attention.’
‘Now that we’re here, we have to have her sign the form.’
‘I’m sure she will. Be easy with her. She’s had a shock.’
‘Of course.’
Rafe watched as the medics approached Mercy as one might an animal caught in a trap. Mercy’s expression remained unchanged as she reiterated that she didn’t want transport and signed the medic’s form. Her hand didn’t even tremble.