“She’s just a little girl, Gideon. What if he’d grabbed her?”

“He didn’t,” Gideon said firmly. “And we’re going to make sure he doesn’t. I have a few friends in Florida. They might like a little side pay.”

“Bodyguards? You trust them?”

“With my life. They’ve had my back over the years when it’s counted. I’ll call John later for more information about their plans, and then I’ll make the calls to Florida. You worry about you and Farrah.”

All the good feelings were swept away by despair. “Poor Aunt Quill. I know in my head that it’s not my fault, but . . .”

“I get it. But you can’t let the guilt take over. Farrah needs your strength, not apologies for something you didn’t cause.”

He was right. So was Rafe. “Got it. I’ll be who she needs.”

Gideon pulled her to her feet and dropped a kiss on her head. “I know you will.”

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 6:30 P.M.

Rafe could count on one hand how many times in his life he’d felt so helpless. He stood in the doorway of his father’s office, watching as Mercy held Farrah close, rocking them where they stood.

“I’m sorry,” Mercy whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Farrah shuddered. “This isn’t your fault, Mercy. It isn’t anyone’s fault except the bastard who did this to her.”

“I hate this,” Captain Holmes hissed so that only Rafe would hear.

“I know,” Rafe murmured, his breath hitching when Mercy looked at him over Farrah’s shoulder. Her sad smile broke his heart and he wanted to go to her, but he respected her wishes when she mouthed, Give us a minute.

“Come on,” Rafe told Holmes. “You’ve got to be starving. My mother wants to feed you.”

Holmes reluctantly followed him from the office and into the kitchen, where Gideon sat with Sasha and Daisy. Irina buzzed around the stove, stirring something.

Some people drank when they were upset. Some people picked fights. Others cleaned obsessively. His mother cooked. Obsessively.

Luckily, they were all big eaters. Holmes looked like he could hold his own with any and all of the Sokolovs when it came to chowing down. Holmes was a big guy, tall and broad.

“Captain Holmes, have you met these guys?” Rafe asked, gesturing for him to sit.

“I met Agent Reynolds and your mother when I first got here.” Holmes dipped his head in a respectful nod as he sat between Gideon and Rafe. “Ma’am. Thank you for the tea. I don’t know how much of it Farrah drank, but I know she appreciated the thought.”

“She is a good person, your Farrah,” Irina answered, already dishing up a plate of the lamb she’d served for Sunday dinner. “You are hungry, yes?”

Holmes’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “Yes, ma’am.” And he must have been, because he cleaned his plate before Rafe had blinked twice.

Irina gave him seconds before he could ask or refuse, patting his arm as she took her own seat. “So, is Farrah—” She sighed, cutting herself off. “She can’t be okay. That is a foolish question.”