Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,42

done the same if we’d had a car to track.”

“Why did she go to San Francisco?” Mercy asked, then turned to Agent Rodriguez, who suddenly was very interested in the chocolate drizzled atop Liza’s bars. “Agent Rodriguez?”

Irina had also turned to stare at the agent. “What do you know?” she demanded.

He shook his head, then shoved a bar in his mouth. He shrugged, pointing to his lips as if to say he couldn’t talk with his mouth full.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Irina muttered. She took out her cell phone and tapped a number. “Geri? Hi, this is Irina. Is Jeffrey home?” She listened to whatever Jeff Bunker’s mother was saying, her brows rising again. “I thought he might be involved. May I speak with him? Thank you.” She looked at Mercy and Liza. “He wasn’t home when she woke up this morning, but was recently returned by the FBI with a guest in tow. One Cameron Cook from San Francisco.”

Agent Rodriguez rose from the table. “I’ll wait outside.”

Irina pointed at him, then the chair. “I’d appreciate it if you would stay.” She nodded at him when he complied, then cocked her head, listening to her call. “Yes, Jeffrey. This is Mrs. Sokolov. Why did Zoya take you to San Francisco this morning?”

Right to the point. That was just one of the things that Liza loved about Irina Sokolov. Liza pursed her lips to keep from smiling. It wasn’t funny, but . . . it kind of was.

Abigail tugged on Liza’s sleeve. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Liza whispered, “but I think Zoya is about to get grounded.”

Abigail’s eyes widened, then narrowed contemplatively. “Then she won’t want her brownie.”

Liza snorted, covering her mouth with her hand, then let the chuckle escape when Irina pushed the plate in front of Abigail.

Abigail’s grin was triumphant. “Yes!”

“No,” a voice said from the kitchen doorway.

Abigail slumped as her father strode across the room. Pushing the plate away, he sank to his knees and pulled her into a bear hug. Abigail patted Amos’s hair. “I’m okay, Papa. See?” She opened her arms wide. “Not a scratch.”

Amos pretended to examine her arms, tilting her face one way, then the other. “Not a scratch,” he agreed, but his voice trembled. He looked to Mercy. “And you?”

Mercy held her arms wide, just as Abigail had. “Not a scratch.” Then she stood up when Rafe rushed into the kitchen, letting herself be swept up into his arms.

Swallowing hard, Liza looked away. She was so happy for Mercy—her friend absolutely deserved all the good things life could bring. But at the same time, it was hard to watch when she knew she’d never have that.

“Thank you, Jeffrey,” Irina said into the phone. “You will put your mother back on the phone now.” She waited, rolling her eyes when Liza met her gaze. “Geri, I think we’re going to have to sit our children down for a little talk. Can you come for dinner and bring Jeffrey?” She smiled. “Of course Cameron is welcome, too. Tell his father he can pick him up here.” She ended the call and grimaced. “Zoya has some explaining to do.”

Rafe derailed Liza’s thoughts by sitting next to her, engulfing her in a huge hug before she could say a word.

“Thank you,” he whispered fiercely. “Thank you so much.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Liza said, patting his back.

“Yeah, she did,” Agent Rodriguez butted in. “And we’ll hear all the details in three, two, one—”

“Hello?” Tom called from the front door. “Anybody here?”

Liza stiffened. He was here already. She hadn’t expected him so soon. They must have used the flashing lights to beat traffic.

“In the kitchen, Tom,” Irina called back. She stood up and put the kettle on. “Who wants tea?”

Liza raised her hand immediately. “Special tea?”

Irina laughed. “You got someone to drive you home?” Because Irina’s “special tea” was infused with cannabis.

“I’ll take her,” Tom said. “She’s on my way,” he added jokingly.

His entry was as different from Rafe’s as day from night. There were no hugs. No comfort. He hadn’t even asked Liza if she was all right. He’d just breezed into the kitchen with his partner, Agent Croft, a woman who was somewhere in her late thirties or early forties. She was supposedly good at her job, which meant she’d watch Tom’s back.

She was also single. Liza had asked.

Liza hoped that Tom’s back was all the woman was watching, but it didn’t really matter, did it? He’s not yours. And I’m not going to let him take