“I’m glad you have them, and once Gideon’s temper cools, he will be, too.”

His strokes had become slower as she relaxed against him. “You need to let me go, or I’ll fall asleep right here. It would be awful for your leg if that happened.”

His hand slid from her hair to her back, his touch a little more intense now, fingers massaging the muscles that were the tightest. “Where do you want to go, Mercy? Mom’s going to insist that you eat, but after that, you need to decide if you want to stay here at Mom and Dad’s, or come back to my house and stay with Sasha. Either way is fine with me. I’ll make sure you have someone guarding you, wherever you sleep.”

“Thank you.” She thought about it for a moment. “Will your mother be offended if we don’t stay here?”

“Not at all.”

He sounded confident, but Mercy would check for herself when she saw Irina again. “If she’s really okay with it, I’d like to get to your place. I love Farrah’s family, and John and the others are the best, but I get overwhelmed with all the talking and the noise. I think your family would be similar.”

“They can be . . . friendly,” he said, affection clear in his tone. “That’s why I left home when I was eighteen. My grandmother left a house to all of us kids, but it needed work. I lived there while I went to college, fixed the house up whenever I had free time, then bought the others out when I’d saved enough money. It’s always been my oasis. I can always come here anytime if I need a little drama. I’ll let Mom know that you’re going home with me.” He kissed her temple, then met her gaze. “I want to make all of this better for you, but I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing it,” she said, pressing her cheek to the hard wall of his chest. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a long, long moment they sat there in the quiet, the steady thumping of his heart beneath her ear the only sound that mattered. “I need to help,” she finally said wearily.

“Need to help with what, specifically?”

“Finding Ephraim Burton.” Somehow saying both of his names together made him feel more like a stranger, less like her own personal nightmare. A little bit, anyway.

His hand rubbed big circles on her back. “All right.” His reply wasn’t condescending. It was simple acceptance, like it made perfect sense that she’d help.

“But I don’t know where to start,” she confessed.

“Let’s start tomorrow,” he said softly. “Tonight, you need to take care of you.”

She wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy. “All right,” she said, intentionally mimicking his words and tone, making him chuckle.

“Good,” was all he said before falling silent once more. He rubbed her back, occasionally stroking her hair, his constant touches more than mere comfort. His hands anchored her. His arms made her feel safe.