“Did you?”

“Yep.” He hesitated, then continued, figuring she needed all the information before deciding how far she wanted this thing between them to go. “And I enjoyed it. I had to kill two of them, but the rest we took into custody. The two I killed were shooting at us and I was protecting my partner’s back, but I was glad to have killed them. They were the ones who’d killed Bella. Haven’t had even a second of regret.” He paused a moment, then asked a question he wasn’t sure he was ready to have answered. “Does that make a difference to you?”

“What, that you killed the men who murdered your fiancée so that your partner could go home to his family? Yes, it makes a difference. It makes me like you even more. And respect you. They wouldn’t have spared you, had you hesitated.”

Peace flooded him and his tense muscles relaxed into the corner of the sofa. “Thank you.”

“What about after? Why didn’t you tell your family after?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because they’re so . . . them. I love them with everything that I am. But they can overwhelm me with love and I was really fragile at that point. I think I might have broken into too many pieces to put back together, if I’d let them comfort me. And then, after I’d grieved, it was kind of too late to tell them because then I would have needed to explain why I hadn’t told them before. It was exhausting to even consider.”

“I understand that. But your brother Jude knows?”

“Yeah. Too much vodka one night and I blurted the story out to him. He showed up with a bottle of Absolut and a mountain of guilt. She’d taken the case over from him when the DA assigned him to another case. I think he suspected that we were together before I told him, and he felt guilty about that, too—that he’d ‘robbed’ me of her, which was ridiculous. He ended up patting my back that night while I cried like a baby. He promised he wouldn’t tell a soul because I needed to stay on that case. When I killed the two who’d murdered Bella, we got drunk again. He moved to L.A. shortly after I closed the case. I think he needed a clean break. Too many memories here. But we still spend her birthdays remembering her, Jude and me. We drink to her memory and tell stories that make us laugh and cry.”

Her palm against his heart was a welcome weight. “I’m glad you have each other.”

“Me too.” He let a few beats pass. “How long will you be here, Mercy?”

“I have two months’ leave. I’ll go back for Aunt Quill’s funeral, of course.” A shudder ran through her body, but she didn’t cry. He’d be shocked if she had any tears left after today. “I loved her. She clucked over me like a mama hen and when I graduated from college, the apartment next to hers opened up. I moved in and had an instant dinner companion. We played cards or watched her shows.” She laughed quietly. “She loved Matlock and Murder, She Wrote. I took her to the doctor and made sure she remembered her medicine. She loved my cats and gave them treats when she thought I wasn’t looking. Like good treats. Real tuna. They loved her.”