“Then there’s me.” His brows lifted. “What will you do about me?”

She laughed. “That is a leading question, Detective Sokolov. Give me some time, I’ll make you a list. But for now? I want to go to bed with you and make you forget about this day for a little while. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

He kissed her again, long and sweet. “I’ll go to New Orleans with you, if you want. For Quill’s celebration.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Not much I wouldn’t do for you,” he said lightly, but the intensity in his eyes spoke differently. “I’ll still be on DB for the next two months at least. We can take all the time we need to figure this out.” He hesitated, then shifted his weight so that his injured leg was in the hot spray. “I might not be a detective anymore.”

She wanted to apologize, but bit the words back. That wasn’t what he needed. She kissed his chin, then rose on her toes to kiss his mouth. “I know. Maybe we can figure out some other options for you, just in case. You know . . . together.”

It was the right thing to say, because he sagged against the tile, his eyes closing, relief stamped on his handsome face. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Together. I like that.” He reached behind her to turn off the water.

“Hey,” she protested. “I wasn’t done.”

“We would have been standing in ice water in about four seconds.”

“Oh. Good to know. You know, for that list I’ll be making for all the things I want to do with you. Long showers probably won’t be on it.” She opened the shower door and grabbed two towels from the rack. “Dry off and get into bed. I’ll get us food. And then we sleep. There will be time to start worrying about everything when we wake up.”

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY, APRIL 20, 12:15 P.M.

Reality intruded sometime after noon, with a loud knocking on the door. Rafe lifted his head from the pillow with a groan. He was already awake and contemplating waking Mercy the way she’d woken him before dawn—by kissing every inch of her body. He did not want to entertain any visitors.

Curled up against him, Mercy stirred. “What is it?”

He scowled. “Somebody’s at the door.”

The knocking started again. “Open up, Rafe!”

He groaned again. “It’s Sasha.”

“I brought food!” she hollered. “Oh, hi, Gideon,” she said loudly enough for them to hear. “I brought enough for everyone, but brother dear won’t open the door. I’ve got a key, Rafe!”

“Don’t you dare!” Rafe shouted back. “Give me a minute.”

Mercy sat up in the bed, beautifully naked, which Rafe loved. But her hair was going every which direction. Rafe thought it was damn adorable but somehow he knew that she wouldn’t agree, so he kept that thought to himself.

“I’ll get it,” she said, treating him to a wonderful view when she bent over her suitcase to pull out clean clothes.