‘Not only do we welcome Mercy, though,’ Karl said, ‘we welcome her family as well. All the “sibs”, the Romeros, and Amos and Abigail.’
Amos bobbed his head, smiling, his arm around Abigail. Amos had woken up after a few days and they’d all been thankful that there had been no permanent damage caused by DJ’s bullet. Amos was still weaker than he wanted to be, but he’d put himself to work, rehabbing the fixer-upper that Rafe had bought around the corner from his Victorian.
It was a two-story and one of the first things Rafe and Amos had done was to install an elevator. Rafe continued physical therapy, but he’d come to accept that it was unlikely he’d gain back enough range of motion to return to the force. At least as a homicide detective. Some days were harder than others, but he’d signed up with Tom’s old therapist and it was helping. He hadn’t lost hope and was keeping busy. He and Mercy had joined Karl and Irina in a few of their fundraising ventures.
In the meantime, he and Amos had made a lot of progress in a few short weeks. The man was a master carpenter and would be able to command top prices anywhere in the city, but for now, he was fixing up a home for his daughter. For Mercy.
And in exchange for labor, Amos and Abigail had taken over the top floor of Rafe’s Victorian. They’d gotten Abigail a puppy, so her life was pretty complete.
‘Are you finished, Karl?’ Irina asked, poised to strike a match and light the candles on Mercy’s cake.
‘Almost, maya lubimaya,’ Karl said with a sweet smile. ‘I can’t forget Tom and Liza.’
Rafe almost laughed out loud at that. His father had a serious crush on Tom Hunter, the former basketball pro. Karl was all sports, always, so having a pro in their midst made him as giggly as Abigail with her puppy.
Tom shook his head, looking embarrassed. Liza looked . . . sad, and Rafe made a mental note to talk to her. They’d gotten to know the younger woman fairly well over the last few weeks. She almost never missed Sunday dinner and seemed to thrive on the family atmosphere.
They knew she was originally from Minneapolis, that she’d served in Afghanistan, that she was going to study nursing at UC Davis starting in July, and that she had an adoptive family of her own back in Chicago, but none of them understood the relationship between Tom and Liza. The two claimed to be ‘just friends’, but Rafe wasn’t buying it.
‘And,’ Karl said dramatically, ‘we also welcome Geri and Jeff.’ He turned to Jeff’s mother. ‘Geri, you are welcome anytime.’
‘Dad!’ Zoya whined, but Jeff Bunker shook his head and laughed.
‘You know I’m kidding, Zoya,’ Karl said fondly. ‘I don’t think Jeff is in any danger from any of us.’
‘For now,’ Rafe said darkly, but it was an act. Mostly. Bunker had proven himself to be a smart guy with a truly soft heart. ‘Just . . . you know.’
‘Rafe,’ Zoya hissed.
Jeff faked a shudder. ‘I know. Touch your sister and you’ll break my fingers, yada yada yada.’ He held up both hands. ‘I’m not touching.’
‘I know,’ Zoya grumbled.
Rafe laughed. ‘Finish your toast, Dad. Mom’s about to light herself on fire with those matches.’
Irina shot him a withering look and Rafe sank down in his chair, but he was unable to hide his grin. ‘You are the one to watch yourself, sinok rodnoy moi.’
‘Ooh.’ Mercy elbowed him. ‘She three-named you. With sarcasm even.’
Sasha cleared her throat loudly and pointed to Erin, who scowled back at her.
‘And Erin,’ Karl said. ‘Although I feel like you were part of our family before, because of your friendship with Rafe. However, now we welcome you as nashe dochke.’
Sasha gulped audibly, turning to Erin to whisper-shout, ‘Daughter.’
Erin turned four shades of purple and her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded her thanks.
Karl lifted his glass. ‘Assuming I have forgotten no one . . . To us – the family we’re born into, the family we make, and the family we collect along the way. And happy birthday to Mercy!’
Irina lit the candles and put the cake in front of Mercy, who looked a little alarmed. ‘I can’t blow that much.’
To which the entire family, except for poor Abigail and the younger grandkids, died laughing.
‘Oh my God,’ Farrah gasped, fanning herself. ‘Merciful heavens, Mercy.’
Too late, Mercy realized what she’d said, and she closed her eyes and muttered a Russian curse that made Irina start laughing again.
‘Blow out your candles, Mercy. I can see my children have been adding to your vocabulary.’
‘Nope,’ Mercy said cheerfully. ‘I learned that one from Karl.’
‘Hey,’ Karl protested, then shrugged. ‘Yeah, it was me.’
Mercy gripped Rafe’s hand, then blew out the candles with one huge breath.
Rafe leaned in to whisper in her ear, ‘You’re really good at blowing things. Out.’ He laughed when she elbowed him harder. ‘I said out.’
‘So who wants cake?’ Mercy asked. ‘Everyone but Rafe? Okay.’
Rafe had to kiss her for that, because he was so damn happy that he needed to let some of it out or he’d bust. ‘Can I have cake now?’ he asked when she broke the kiss to breathe.
‘No,’ she said, even as she cut him a slice. ‘Now leave me to cut this cake in peace.’
Quitting while he was ahead, Rafe grabbed his plate and his cane and moved to the back of the room where he could watch Mercy . . . glow.
He wasn’t very surprised, though, when Tom Hunter joined him. The man had been trying to ask him something all afternoon, but one of them kept getting pulled into another conversation.
‘What’s up?’ Rafe asked. ‘Is Liza okay?’
Tom shrugged. ‘You’d have to ask her.’
Ouch. Okay. Rafe backed away from that little bomb. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
Tom looked relieved. ‘I was wondering if you’d considered going into the private sector.’
Rafe frowned up at him, confused. ‘Like . . . what?’
‘Like private investigating.’
‘Sure. Of course I have. But I’ve been advised not to make any huge career shifts for a little while longer.’ It had been his therapist’s suggestion and it had felt right to Rafe. He’d regained more flexibility and balance, and thankfully the pain was less, but he had a long way to go, both physically and mentally. ‘Why?’