He couldn’t see into the house, but he could see headlights if anyone left. That would have to be good enough for now. Plus, no one could leave except for the pink Mini Cooper, not with the Range Rover parked across the driveway. Rhee would need to move her vehicle first, which would send an alarm to his phone.

Ephraim settled down into his seat, watching as windows in the Victorian began to go dark. They were settling in for the night. He could close his eyes for a little while.

Just a little while.

SIXTEEN

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 9:45 P.M.

Rafe didn’t think he’d ever been so drained. The single step from his garage into the foyer might as well have been a steep mountain climb.

“Need a hand?”

He turned to see André giving him a sympathetic grimace. “I broke my leg a few years back. Took me months to get back to normal.”

The women had already gone into the house, Erin at the forefront, clearing every room before declaring his house safe. His partner had made herself their personal bodyguard and Rafe was grateful. He certainly wasn’t up to the task at the moment.

“But you obviously recovered,” Rafe said, André’s words giving him hope.

“Eh.” André waggled his hand back and forth. “Mostly. I’m not as fast as I used to be, and a lot of days start and end in the whirlpool. You got a good PT?”

“The best. My brother Cash.” Who’d gone the extra mile, concerned for his mental health in addition to the rehabilitation of his leg.

“Good. Plan on using him for a long, long time. It’s been eight years, and I still have to go in for tune-ups occasionally. Not just my leg, y’understand. Now it’s my knees and hips, too. Turns out you distribute your weight differently. Have to compensate. So, not to be all doom and gloom, but you’re in this for the long haul.”

“But you came back to the job.” It was a glimmer of hope and he held on to it.

“Yep. You okay if I help you up the stairs?”

Rafe nodded, stifling the embarrassment and irritation at having to accept it. André put his arm around his shoulders, practically hefting Rafe up the single step.

Ouch. Now his shoulders hurt too, but he nodded, thankful. He pressed a set of keys into André’s hand. “I think Sasha’s already let Farrah in, but here’s a key to the third-floor apartment in case you need to come and go. Feel free to drive the Tahoe if you don’t want to keep paying for the rental.”

“What about you? Don’t you need it?”

Rafe pointed to his Subaru, on the other side of the garage. “That’s mine. The bullet hit my left leg, so I can drive myself.” And he was grateful for that stroke of luck. “The Tahoe is my dad’s, but he got a midlife-crisis Tesla, so the Tahoe sits in his garage. We borrowed it for Mercy, but I don’t think she’ll be driving anywhere alone until we get Burton, so you might as well use it. Sasha’s the hot pink Mini outside, so she’s good, too.”