Rafe closed his eyes, ashamed. “You’re right. That was stupid of me.”

“No. That was generous of you. You were willing to be the bad guy to keep the door open for me, even though you clearly want her for yourself.”

“I . . .” The denial had trailed away. Because it would have been a lie, too.

Gideon had rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen this coming for weeks. And, for the record, I hope it works out. She’s good for you and vice versa. So let’s not underestimate her, okay? Now we should get back or we’ll have to answer questions and I don’t want to break my own no-lying rule.”

Now, back at the family table, Rafe was glad that Gideon had kept his head straight. But it had been forty minutes since Captain Holmes had called and Rafe knew he needed to tell Mercy now, away from the group. If she was going to fall apart, he could at least give her the privacy to do so.

He nudged her shoulder with his. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said softly. “Come with me.”

Sasha let out a low whistle. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Talk?”

Irina leveled Sasha with a glare. “Show your brother some respect.”

Sasha huffed, looking a little hurt at the rebuke. “Okay, Mom. I’ll rein it in.”

“Thank you,” Irina said, but Karl looked concerned.

“Is everything all right, maya lubimaya?” he asked, sliding his arm around her shoulders.

Irina’s smile was brittle. “I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Sasha’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t think . . .” She got up and, standing behind her mother’s chair, wrapped her arms around her. “After all that talk of the past, I should have been more considerate.”

“You’re fine, Sahinka. I’m a little on edge.”

Farrah began to gather the dessert plates and cups. “Then you sit and relax. I’ll clean up.”

“Thank you, Farrah,” Irina said faintly.

Rafe hoped Captain Holmes would get there soon. He didn’t think his mother could hold her composure much longer. He tugged on Mercy’s hand, leading her down the hall to the first-floor guest bedroom.

“Um, Rafe?” she asked, and he looked back when she stopped walking. “Where are we going?”

“Trust me?” he asked, and she sighed.

“You’re pushing it, pal,” she said lightly.

He might have smiled at any other time, but his heart hurt for what he had to tell her. “I’m sorry.”

She immediately sobered, stopping outside the guest room door. “What’s wrong?”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Please.”

She gripped his hand so hard he winced. But she said nothing more, hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed while he closed the door.

He joined her on the bed, threading their fingers together. “Hunter gave me some bad news.” He wanted to kick himself, phrasing it that way. It wasn’t bad news. It was horrific. “I . . .”