Liza never got tired of Irina’s hugs. The Sokolov family matriarch had pulled Liza into her nest, fussing over her like she was one of her chicks and making Liza miss her own mother so much that it hurt.

“How are you this morning?” Irina asked once she’d let her go.

“Not bad,” Liza lied.

Irina studied her face, her expression dubious. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap?”

“Nah.” It wasn’t like she’d be able to sleep there, either. Not with her thoughts whirling like a tornado. “I promised Abigail I’d take her to the eye doctor.”

“I can do it.”

Liza smiled at the older woman. “But you’re with her all day, homeschooling.” Catching Abigail up so that when she started public school in the fall, she’d fit in with her peer group. Abigail had lived in a repressive cult her entire life, and her education was just one of the things that had suffered. Basic medical care had also been neglected and, although Abigail seemed healthy, she’d never had an eye exam. Irina had been the first to notice how the child held her books too close to her face, squinting at the print. “Besides, Mercy is supposed to come with us. I cleared the trip through Agent Rodriguez, and he’s vetted the optometrist’s office and even an ice cream store for afterward. Is Mercy here yet?”

Liza and Mercy Callahan had also become close in the month that they’d known each other. Most of the times Liza had accompanied Abigail to the hospital to see her father, Mercy had already been in his room. The bullet Amos had taken had been intended for Mercy, and the man who’d fired the shot was still out there. Still a threat.

Thus, the rules about Abigail not opening the front door.

Thus, the FBI agent standing watch outside, assigned to protect Mercy.

Thus, at least a portion of Liza’s trouble sleeping. Her new friend was careful, but this level of vigilance wasn’t sustainable—not even by the military. Liza knew that from experience.

That experience had been responsible for more than a few sleepless nights as well. She and her team had been highly trained combat soldiers, and they’d still been caught in a single unguarded moment. People had died. People Liza had cared for.

Civilians would be far quicker to make a mistake, which could cost Mercy her life. Liza wasn’t going to let that happen.

Irina looked up the stairs, growing more concerned. “Mercy’s here. She’s on the phone.”

Liza frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, nothing new is wrong. Mercy is on a video call with her therapist.”

Liza sighed. “Oh. That’s good, at least. I imagine they have much to discuss.”

If anyone in this world needed therapy, it was Mercy Callahan. That the woman had made it through her life with her heart and soul intact was testament to her personal strength.

Unfortunately, Liza knew about that from personal experience, too. She wondered if Mercy’s therapist was taking new clients. Giving herself a little shake, she held the cake plate out to Irina. “For the family.”