Farrah met his eyes and somehow he knew that she knew about Eden. About Burton.

“You told the FBI that he had a glass eye,” Farrah whispered. “He didn’t when Mercy knew him. You’re sure it was Burton?”

He nodded. “Absolutely positive. Sasha, can you get my wheelchair?”

“Of course.” Sasha stood, then laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right, Rafe?”

“Yeah. Just . . . get my chair, please.”

Sasha nodded and went to fetch his wheelchair, which had rolled away when he’d launched himself out of it to strike Burton with his cane. Wish I’d shot him in the back when I had the chance. But he hadn’t, and it pissed him off. He’d grabbed his cane instead. His fucking cane.

He’d been on disability for six weeks, but as soon as he’d been able to stand, he’d gone to the range every damn week to keep his skills sharp, his reflexes sharper. And to feel like a cop again, just for a little while, even though he wasn’t sure he ever would be one again.

Why hadn’t he drawn his weapon? Why had that damn cane been his first reflex?

He’d have to worry about it later. For now, he needed to focus on Mercy. At least he’d kept her from Burton’s clutches. For now.

The man had come for her thirteen years after her escape. Rafe had never believed he’d given up. But how had Burton found her? How had he known she’d be at the airport today? He started to ask Farrah who else had known they’d be on that flight, when the woman exhaled in audible relief.

“I think she’s coming around,” Farrah said in a low voice.

Mercy was blinking now, slowly. With purpose, unlike the robotic way she’d blinked before. She looked to the right, then left, then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“For what, baby girl?” Farrah whispered in a kind of crooning singsong tone.

Mercy shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. Is he gone?”

“Yeah,” Rafe answered. “He’s gone. You’re safe. Are you hurt anywhere other than your side, anywhere that we can’t see?”

She touched her side, opening her eyes to see her blood-covered fingers. “Oh.” Then she turned to Rafe, her head tilted in the exact way that Gideon’s did when he was puzzling something out. “You’re here.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a yay-you’re-here, or a why-the-hell-are-you-here, or simple surprise to see him. It was impossible to determine from her flat expression and tone. “I came to meet you. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you in case you didn’t want to see me, so I stayed out of the way until Sasha could tell you that I’d come along.”

But he wasn’t giving Mercy the option to tell him to leave. There was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Not now.

Sasha crouched beside them again, having retrieved his wheelchair. “I was going to ask you if you were okay with him being here when you came out of the ladies’ room, but then . . .” She shrugged.