A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(35)

“I’m proud of her,” he admitted. “I don’t like that she works for—”

“Stop right there, Karl. You’re about to negate all the progress you’ve made while sitting in that chair.” Truman ran a hand through his hair, praying he wasn’t ruining Karl’s sudden urge to do the right thing. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if Karl went back to his old ways before Mercy returned.

“She wants a relationship with you,” Truman began. “She wants her father back in her life. We’ve had several discussions of whether or not she should ask you to walk her down the aisle.”

Karl looked up, hope in his eyes.

“But you know why she hasn’t? She’s terrified you’ll reject her again. Don’t talk,” he ordered as Karl opened his mouth. “It tears her apart. Your relationship is the one thing in her life that she hasn’t been able to repair. And she’s tried. I’m sorry I’m pissed right now, but why the hell didn’t you do this a year ago when she came back to town?”

He didn’t answer.

“I won’t let Mercy ask you to give her away,” Truman stated. “You have to come to her. And you will do it the day she gets back from this assignment.”

“Understood. And I will,” he promised.

To his surprise, Truman believed him.

“You’ll be a good husband for her,” Karl continued. “I admire you and respect how you support her.”

Is the world about to end?

Karl wasn’t done. “I couldn’t have chosen a better hus—”

“I recommend not mentioning you choosing a husband in front of Mercy,” Truman said dryly. Karl’s clumsy attempts to marry off Rose had lit both sisters on fire.

He closed his mouth and nodded. “Noted.”

Karl stood and solemnly held out his hand. Truman rose and shook it firmly, holding Karl’s gaze. “Take care of yourself, Karl.”

“Let me know the minute she’s back.”

“I will.”

Mercy’s father left. Truman dropped into his chair and tipped it back as far as it could go, rubbing his face with both his hands.

What other miracles will happen today?



That evening Truman stopped by Mercy’s apartment to check on Kaylie. He’d told her he needed to grab a jacket that he’d left behind, but his real goal was to make certain the teenager wasn’t lonely. He’d asked her if she wanted to stay at his house with him and Ollie, but she’d declined, claiming her cat kept her company.

He knocked on the door, wondering if Mercy’s boss had heard anything from her on assignment. Time was crawling, and he didn’t know how he’d last for twelve more days. Or even longer. At the station this morning, both Lucas and Samuel had given him hard stares after Truman snapped at Royce. The young officer had returned a patrol vehicle with another dent in the front fender. The third in four months.

Truman didn’t think the hard words had been unwarranted.

But his world felt knocked several degrees off its axis.

Had his life changed that much in one year?

It had.

At some point Mercy had become essential to him. To his happiness and peace of mind.

Kaylie opened the door and grinned, her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head and Dulce in one arm. “You must be really lonely if you’re checking up on me,” she said with a wink.

“I told you I need a jacket I left here.”

“Uh-huh.” She stepped back to let him in, and an amazing odor made every one of his receptor cells turn toward the kitchen. “I made stew,” she said. “Hungry?”

“Always.”

“Good.” She set the cat on a chair, picked up a large spoon, and stirred the pot of thick, meaty goodness on the stove, making Truman’s mouth water. “Hear anything from Mercy?”

“No. And I don’t expect to until she’s finished,” he told her.

“I know. Just thought I’d check.”

“You’d be the first to know.”

She gave him a smile that was a mirror image of Mercy’s, and his chest tightened. “I’ll get that coat.” He strode down the hall to the bedroom, hoping he had a jacket in Mercy’s closet that he could take.

He found two and grabbed the heaviest off a hanger. Mercy’s scent drifted from her clothing, teasing him. A faint smell of lemon and shortbread and vanilla. His stomach tied itself in a knot, and he stood still, staring blankly at her clothing.

“Is it dangerous?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It could be. No more than usual.”

Dammit. He hated being in the dark. He closed the closet and stepped in her bathroom to wash his hands before he ate with Kaylie. As he dried them, his gaze fell on a small tray of cosmetics Mercy kept on her counter, and he caught his breath.

Her engagement ring sat with her makeup.

His fingers shook as he picked up the band of diamonds. She’d complained about having to leave behind all her skin-care products and her expensive conditioner for the assignment. But she hadn’t mentioned her ring.

She had worn it the night before she left. He’d felt it as his hand had tightly gripped hers. She’d been astride him, her back arched, light from the moon illuminating her skin as she’d moved with him. His fingertips had explored the metal around her finger, a symbol of the link between them, as they both sought their release.