“Did he finally admit that he loves you or did you figure it out?” her father asked.

“You knew?” Mystery blinked.

“I’ve known for a while.”

“I suspected, so I asked. I don’t feel the same way.” And she felt terrible about kissing him the way she had. She’d like to apologize to him again, but at this point, it would soothe her more than help him. “Has he already returned to London?”

“Not just yet.” Her father grimaced. “In saving you, he took a bullet. A nick in the forearm, really, but he’s just come out of surgery, so I think he’ll be here at least a few days. The good news is, Peter Grace is dead. Heath and Axel both landed a headshot, one in front, one in back. Wasn’t much left. The cross he gave your mother is part of the police evidence, but will eventually be returned to you. But the SD card you retrieved from your mother’s safe-deposit box mysteriously vanished.” He sent her an expression of mock innocence. “Regardless, the press has already run with the story that he killed both your mother and your aunt, so it’s a huge scandal. His religious fiefdom is done.”

“Do the press know . . . why that bastard murdered them and tried to kill me?” Do they know I’m not your daughter by blood? She couldn’t bring herself to voice the question.

“No,” he murmured. “The police have refused to comment about Grace’s motive or the particulars.”

Mystery breathed a sigh of relief. “Were they able to discern the events from the scene of the crime?”

“Based on the evidence and statements from Heath and Axel, yes. They’ve pieced together enough so they should be able to close the case, once you give a statement and corroborate their accounts. Then we’ll deal with the press. So far, they’re speculating wildly about Grace’s motives, but they haven’t come anywhere near the truth. I’ll leave that up to you. Of course, Heath and Axel know, but I’ll never tell anyone if you’d rather keep that a secret between us.”

Mystery turned that notion and its consequences over in her head as much as her weariness allowed. But really, it didn’t matter who’d donated the sperm that had created her. What mattered was she’d become the woman she was today in large part because of this flawed, artistic, infuriating, incredibly loving father in front of her. “It’s our secret.”

He smiled at her, his eyes tearing up. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dad. I wish you could be happy someday, find that one woman who could really complete you, even if that sounds cheesy to you and—”

“It’s doesn’t, and I’m damn tired of being lonely.” He raked his hand through his hair again and forced a laugh. “I’m fifty-two, I drive a red sports car, and date women half my age. I’m a fucking walking cliché. I need to figure out what’s missing or broken inside me and fix it. Believe it or not, I’d like to be married again, maybe even have another baby. Who knows?” He shrugged. “I actually started seeing a therapist last month. It’s . . . good so far. We’ll see. I’m a work in progress.”

She cracked a smile. “That’s true. Sometimes I don’t know whether to call you a piece of work or a work of art, but you’re a wonderful father and I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“You’ve made me so proud, kiddo. I know if your mom could see the woman you’ve become, she’d smile and tell you how much she loves you. You were her everything.”

“I know, and I still miss her.”

“I do, too. I wish I had a second chance to tell her so many things, but I can’t take back the words I never said. Hell, if I had her in my life again, I’d do so many things differently. I can only say that I’ve learned and grown since then. I hope she’s forgiven me.”

“You know Mom. She didn’t have the ugliness in her to stay angry or hate. She probably wished she could understand why you strayed, but I’m sure she forgave you.”

“I’m working on understanding, too, so when I find the right woman, it won’t happen again.”

Silence lulled between them for a long moment, and Mystery couldn’t help but think about all that had happened in two short days . . . and wonder what came next. She knew someone to whom she owed a huge apology.

“So, you’ve seen Axel? Is he all right?” A horrifying thought occurred to her. “Did he get hurt, too?”

“No,” her father rushed to assure her. “He’s fine. He’s been fielding the press and spending time at your bedside, from what I understand. You love him.”

Her father’s words gave her hope. “I never stopped. Spending the last few days with him just made my love that much deeper. I feel terrible about the things I believed and said at that crappy café. I should have stopped to think . . . to realize the sort of man he is and not—”

Mystery broke off when she realized that her father probably had no idea what she was talking about.

He laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that. I believe he said something about an apology as well. But I’ll leave that to you two.” Her father released her and eased back toward the wall.

Then Axel filled her vision, and for a moment, she was struck speechless. He looked so vital and masculine in a dark blue shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and bulging chest. He carried himself with a quiet confidence that still made her melt. For the second time in her life, he’d rescued her from a life-or-death situation. He’d always be her hero. Now she simply hoped that he wanted her to make him her man.

“Marshall.” He stuck out his hand to her father, and they shook. “Press conference handled. I hate those flesh-eating bastards, but your PR firm helped a great deal. They’re waiting for you.”

“I’m grateful for everything. I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but I think you’re wonderful for my daughter. You’d make a great son-in-law, too.” He grabbed something from his pocket and winked. “I brought that item you asked for.”

As Axel took whatever her father held, Mystery tried not to gape. Her dad had not just said that. She bit back a groan, vowing to clobber her father later.

With an apologetic grimace, her father slid across the floor and kissed her forehead again. “I’ll see you in a bit. Once I’m gone, say what you need to. And be happy.”

“Bye, Dad.” She put just enough bite in her voice to reinforce the fact that she’d have words for him later.

Pressing her lips together, she watched him clap Axel’s arm again and leave the room.

Then Mystery didn’t know what to say. The old her might have feigned sleep to avoid the embarrassment and potential rejection. She wasn’t that girl anymore.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he answered, the syllable a low rumble from his big chest as he shoved the something her father had brought in his pocket. His voice had always melted her, and today was no exception.

“I’m sorry if he embarrassed you.” Mystery wanted to cringe almost as much as she wanted to know what her father had given him.

“Not at all. I need to talk to you.” He sounded beyond serious. His square face and blue eyes had gone solemn.

She swallowed. “First, I have to say a couple of things, if you’ll let me.”

He gestured to her. “Ladies first.”

Mystery nodded, took a deep breath, gathered her courage—and jumped off the proverbial cliff. “First, you rescued me again, and I’m grateful. Thank you so very much.” She shook her head, hating that she teared up and her head felt as if it were splitting open and she probably looked as appealing as the bottom of a shoe. But he was listening. Nothing else mattered. “Words are totally inadequate to thank you for all you’ve done for me. I’m better for knowing you, Axel. You were the first person who told me I could accomplish anything I wanted in life. You taught me to climb a mountain—literally. After you rescued me the first time, I started climbing them alone figuratively because I finally believed I could. After you opened my eyes, I learned to defend myself, I published books, I embraced life. I learned to do almost everything, except to live without you. I just couldn’t do that.”