Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,63

of glad DJ made a move today, as crazy as that sounds.”

“Not crazy at all. At least you know where he is. Or where he was at that moment.”

“Pointing a gun at us. At you, actually. Don’t ever do that again. He could have shot you.”

“He would have shot you. And Abigail.”

Mercy shuddered. “Don’t even go there. I’m going to have nightmares about that forever. It makes me afraid to go anywhere with anyone.”

“It’s a terrorist tactic,” Liza said. “Makes you afraid to live your life.”

“It works,” Mercy said grimly. “Makes me want to buy a bull’s-eye costume and yell, ‘Come and get me, asshole.’ ”

Liza sucked in a breath. “But you won’t.”

“No.” But even Mercy’s smirk looked scared. “I don’t know where to buy a bull’s-eye costume. Although I bet Amazon would have one.”

“Mercy.”

Mercy focused on the ice cream. “I’m not going to do it. But I want to. I want this to be over.” She looked up, her green eyes filled with tears. “I want my life back. I found Rafe and Gideon and Amos and Abigail and all of you. I don’t want them to get hurt. Or you. Especially when you make yourself a target because you’re protecting me. This is between DJ Belmont and me. Nobody else should get hurt.”

“This is between DJ Belmont and the FBI. Promise me that you know that.”

Mercy only shook her head. “They can’t find him. Eden has stayed hidden for thirty years for a reason. They are good at hiding. DJ will crawl back under his rock and it could be another month before he comes back out. Or a year. I can’t keep this up, this living in fear. I can’t ask the Sokolovs to do it, either. I’m liking the bull’s-eye costume idea more and more.”

Liza’s blood went cold. “Promise me,” she whispered. “Goddammit, Mercy.”

Mercy blinked, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “No. I can’t promise I won’t. Luring him out makes the most sense and I’m the only bait.” Her brow lifted in challenge. “And if you mention this to Rafe, I’ll say you were drunk on vodka.”

“I’ll tell Tom,” Liza threatened.

“Vodka,” she repeated.

“He knows I don’t drink that stuff.”

Mercy’s chin lifted. “Then I’ll tell him that he’s a clueless dick and he should notice you.”

Liza’s mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “No, I wouldn’t. But I’d think of something else to discredit your dirty lies.”

“Dirty lies that are the goddamn truth.”

“Potayto, potahto.”

Liza exhaled. “Please don’t do anything stupid. Please.”

Mercy looked away. “Did you know that Rafe is planning a surprise party for me?”

Liza blinked, thrown by the abrupt change in subject. “No. When is it?”

“Sunday. He’s doesn’t know that I know. It’s going to be held at Irina and Karl’s. You’re invited, of course.”

“Okay,” Liza said slowly. “What can I bring?”

“Yourself.” One side of her mouth lifted wryly. “Maybe some of those Dream Bars.”

“Done and done. But why are you telling me this?”

“Because Rafe has hired six of his old SacPD buddies to be bodyguards. Six, Liza. They’ll be armed and will have the house surrounded.”

“That’s . . . good?”

“No,” Mercy snapped. “That’s bad. Six men will be put in harm’s way because DJ Belmont won’t give up trying to kill me. And we won’t even go into what Rafe is paying them, out of his own pocket. How long can we do this? How long before he decides I’m not worth it?”

“Never,” Liza said sharply. “That man loves you.”

Mercy’s gaze met hers once again, this time beseeching and afraid. “That’s why I have to do something. He loves me. I know he does. He’s going to get himself killed—or someone he’s hired—and it’ll be on me. I cannot live with that. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Liza said softly, covering Mercy’s hand with her own. “I really do. It’s like you’re in a combat situation, always prepared, always ready. It grates at you, makes you jumpy. Sometimes it makes you throw caution to the wind just to feel normal for a day. An hour.”

Mercy’s throat worked as she tried to swallow. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s exactly it. You sound like you know this from experience.”

It was Liza’s turn to look away. “Yeah. You spend weeks, months, in uniform, and gunfire is like . . . background noise.” So were the screams and moans of the wounded she cared for until the surgeons could work their miracles. “And you want just one day to be . . . normal.”

“And then?” Mercy asked quietly.

“And then a