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Timothy didn't know what to do. He couldn't go to prison. What would happen to Leena then? She was in a hotel all alone, clear across the city from where he was now. Drugged. He'd drugged his baby girl to keep her quiet. What if there was a fire in the hotel? No one would know she was even there. What if she woke up and needed him? Or what would she do if he went to prison and he wasn't there when she woke?

Timothy had to get out of here. He just had to.

They weren't watching him.

Their attention was on Trey.

Because Trey had the gun.

And Trey was too close to Powell Barratt and her father right now.

Why wouldn't Trey just put down the damned gun and end this? What was his son hoping would happen here? Some sort of miracle?

Utter terror went through him when he considered maybe Trey was wanting to commit suicide by cop? That was a thing, wasn't it? That some criminals did to avoid prison?

Trey wouldn't survive long in prison. He just wouldn't. He had powerful people out there with no morals. No hesitation. Something...something could happen to his son in prison.

Timothy couldn't stop any of this.

Trey had done this. Created this. Brought this on himself. It wasn't just bad circumstances or life events. Timothy had told himself for so long that grief for first his mother's death when Trey was seventeen and then Angela's a few years later—he'd told himself that that was what had made Trey so hard-hearted. So callous to others' suffering.Loss.

He'd tried to fix it, to fix his son. But Timothy couldn't. Hadn't.

Now Trey was facing the consequences of his own actions. Timothy couldn't stop this. He just couldn't.

But...he had to get out of there.

He had to get to his daughter.She was just a little-bitty girl. A baby, really. Timothy was her father. He wasn't going to let this daughter down. Abandon her. Not like he had all the others. He just wasn't.

Timothy edged his way toward where the young woman knelt next to her father. Her big brown eyes met his.

"I am truly sorry." He just had to say it.

She just watched him.

"Don't move, Grundenman," Commander Rodriguez growled. "You aren't going anywhere.”

Timothy turned to the younger man. It hurt to even look at him. Why did it have to be him? "You...are taking good care of her?"

"Who? My daughter ? You'd damned well better believe it." The man had a gun pointed right at Timothy. It was obvious the man wanted to pull the trigger.

Timothy just waited. He didn't think the man would do it. Miguel Rodriguez was a good man. Timothy knew that about him. This man who was raising Timothy's youngest daughter.

Why did it have to be him here with Heather tonight?

Timothy just looked at the players around him.

He didn't know what to do now at all.