Merciless

Dawson and I were solid. It’d just taken a little trip over shaky ground to get me to believe it.

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later…

I woke to the smell of bacon frying.

What the hell? Mason was still asleep next to me. I squinted at the clock on the nightstand. I doubted Lex was up at 6:30 cooking breakfast for us. But then again… the boy had been so helpful since his father had come home from the hospital that I really didn’t know what I would’ve done without him.

I slid free from being pinned beneath Dawson’s leg and arm, patting his shoulder when he scowled that I’d somehow escaped his hold.

Pulling on my robe, I yawned and headed to the kitchen. “Lex, if you want help-”

But it wasn’t Lex standing at the stove. It was Sophie.

Although her eyes were sad, she smiled at me, even when I continued to gape at her as if she were an apparition. “Good mornin’, takoja. I’m thinkin’ of whipping up some omelets.”

I wanted to ask what she was doing here. But I just stood there, like an idiot, with my mouth hanging open.

“You’re always grumpy until after you’ve had that first shot of caffeine. Luckily, I made a pot of coffee, eh?”

A few weeks away hadn’t changed her bossy ways. I marched up to her and hugged her, ignoring her warnings about bacon grease splattering us. And I kept right on hugging her until she hugged me back and sighed.

Then she patted my shoulder. “I missed you, too, Mercy. Now sit.”

I sat. Sophie brought us both a cup of coffee and took the chair across from mine. If she noticed the ruffled place mats were gone, she didn’t mention it.

“How’s the Sheriff?”

“Really good. He’s working half days through this week. If his arm is more responsive to the physical therapy on Friday, he’ll go to full shifts next week.” The only lingering effect from the coma was Dawson’s limited mobility on his left side. It frustrated him not being 100 percent. A feeling I was familiar with.

“He’s lucky. I prayed to Wakan Tanka when I heard about his accident.”

“Thank you. Every day I realized how blessed we are.”

“I prayed for you, too, Mercy. I prayed you’d find peace. I prayed you’d discover the power in forgiveness.”

Not likely. Especially since I knew she was talking about forgiving John-John. I lifted my cup to drink.

Of course, Sophie’s sharp gaze focused on the diamond engagement ring on my left hand. “I’m assuming you finally said yes to the Sheriff?”

“He was being a pain in the ass about it, so I agreed to marry him just to shut him up.” I set down my cup. “So you coming back to work for me or what?”

Sophie harrumphed. “Yes, you need a caretaker. I saw that you hadn’t cleaned the laundry room at all while I was gone. I’m gonna need a bigger vacuum, hey, to get them dust rhinos under the couch cleaned up.”

“So noted.”

“I ain’t gonna work full time. Mebbe just two days a week here. Hope and Jake don’t need me meddling at their place. Jake said you took time off. Are you back to work at the FBI now?”

“No, I’m on personal leave until I know Dawson’s recovery is complete.” After that? Who knew? I wasn’t sure if I expected Director Shenker and Agent Turnbull to beg me to stay, or if I’d feel relief if they let me go. Either way, I would have to make a decision soon.

Every day I read the paper and listened to the news, expecting to hear a breaking story about a bullet-riddled body found in the woods on the rez. But after two-plus weeks… nothing. The tribal police hadn’t made a statement about what they’d discovered at Sheldon War Bonnet’s house, either. Rollie’s warning-All the sick stuff most people, even the cops, on the rez turn a blind eye to-had proven true. It was easier sweeping evil under the tipi. Or denying its existence altogether.

“You could always go back to work at Clementine’s,” Sophie suggested, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“I doubt that’s an option, since John-John and I aren’t speaking.”

“He’s sorry, Mercy. You have no idea how sorry he is.”

“That is true. I have no idea how sorry he is, because I haven’t heard from him or seen him at all,” I retorted.

“He’s grieving.”

“I know. So are you. Just… don’t make excuses for him, okay?”

Sophie lifted her stubborn chin. “My grandson is going to apologize. Mebbe the question should be: Will you let him?”

I shrugged. I’d believe it when I saw the whites of John-John’s eyes. He’d have to come up with something pretty spectacular in the making-up department. Because after Geneva and I had our big fight? She’d brought me a bucket of kittens.

What could possibly top that?

A towel cracked next to my elbow, and I jumped.

Sophie cackled. “Go on, now. Get your man and your boy up to the table for breakfast. I ain’t got all day. It’s time things got back to normal around here.”

My man and my boy. How I loved the sound of that.