SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 10:30 P.M.

Rafe had lost track of time. Sitting in the quiet of his father’s office, which smelled of old leather and the sweet pipe smoke that took him back to his childhood, he held Mercy tight in his arms, satisfied on a primal level by the soft, slow breaths she took. He’d done this. He’d made her feel safe enough to finally get some rest.

From the dark circles under her eyes, he knew she hadn’t slept well for far too long. His good leg had fallen asleep long before she had, but his discomfort was a minor thing. He’d been more uncomfortable on stakeouts, and tonight he had an armful of beautiful woman, so he called the situation a win.

He brushed a kiss over her temple, wishing he had a magic wand that would make all of this go away. But he didn’t, so he’d support her in whatever she needed to do. Her wanting to help find Burton was a big deal. Six weeks before, she’d been adamant that she’d wanted no part in the search for Burton and Eden. That was the same day that Gideon’s boss had finally identified Burton as Harry Franklin, a man wanted by the FBI for a thirty-year-old bank robbery and triple murder.

Molina had made an assumption that had reared back to bite her in the ass. So had Gideon. Both had assumed that Mercy would be happy to help.

But she hadn’t been then and she wasn’t now. Now she needed to, and that was a far different thing. Either way, he knew where to start, even if she didn’t.

Because he already had started. He’d been searching for Ephraim Burton and Eden for the past month, ever since she’d run back to New Orleans. He hadn’t told anyone, even Gideon, because he wasn’t working in any official capacity.

He knew the FBI and SacPD had been vigorously searching for Burton, but they clearly hadn’t been successful. He wanted to growl at the thought of the man’s hands on Mercy, wishing he’d shot the bastard at the airport when he’d had the chance.

He could still help her, though. He could help her find Ephraim and take back the part of her life the monster had stolen. Yes, she would probably return to New Orleans sometime too soon, to the life she had there—her job, her friends, her newly found family—but for the moment she was here, with him. Letting him hold her. Sleeping peacefully in his arms.

A light knock had him sighing. Of course this was too good to last. The door popped open and Sasha stuck her head in, her eyes going soft when she saw Mercy asleep in his lap.

She turned to whoever stood behind her and put her finger over her lips before tiptoeing into the office. Farrah was behind Sasha and his dad behind Farrah, who carried a covered plate. Whatever it contained smelled really good. Rafe hadn’t had a chance to finish his dinner, and his stomach growled loudly.