Page 123

123

Powell’s dad shifted, beneath her hand. He was waking up. Moaning. Powell leaned down. “Daddy, it’s okay.”

“Powell? Where…your mother?”

“Mom’s not here.”

His eyes flew open then. “Where is your mother? Did they hurt her too? Are you hurt, baby girl?”

He remembered, then. She was hoping he wouldn’t. Not for a little bit. Until she had him where he was safe.

“Heather already got Mom out of here. Mom's safe,” Powell whispered. “Gunnar is here. And his friends. We’ll be okay. I promise. Just stay still. They don’t know you’re awake.”

His fingers wrapped around hers. For a moment, she almost imagined it was over.

But this wasn’t over yet.

It couldn’t be.

Not as long as that man had a gun.

And he was looking right at her.

Then he was just there. His hand tangled in her hair, and he yanked her to her feet.

“Trey! Let her go!” his father yelled.

Trey Grundenman didn’t listen. He just pulled her up.

Powell tripped over her dad’s legs.

And went sprawling.

Gunnar instinctively went toward Powell when she landed on top of her father. Then he caught himself, forced himself to remember his training.

She was on the ground now. Kicking.

Right at Grundenman.

Gunnar couldn’t get off a shot. Not with Powell that close.

“Powell, stay still,” Heather ordered, moving closer. “Just stay real still for a moment, okay? There’s a giant, really ugly bug by your left shoulder. I’m going to just swat it off before you get cooties or something.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Auntie.” The younger Grundenman had a screw-everything attitude that was damned dangerous.

It made him unpredictable.

The elder Grundenman was terrified—for his son.

Making him even more unpredictable.

Movement next to Powell had Gunnar’s attention sharpening.

Mason was moving. Reaching for his daughter.

Hell, Gunnar understood. Mason just wanted to protect his daughter. To get her away from the man who could hurt her.

But that added another unpredictable component to the equation.

They needed to contain both Grundenmans. Fast.

“Listen, Timmy Three, I really need to get home soon. I left a pair of very pretty blue-eyed problems…tied up…until I get there. I really need to be going. So, put your weapon down, and your hands up.”

The taunting tone was gone. In its place was a seasoned cop.

“Now, I don’t think you are going to do anything to me right now.”

He reached down with one hand. Keeping his gaze on Heather.

Miguel shifted closer.

He was almost to the elder Grundenman now.

Gunnar and the rest of his team had practiced these very kinds of situations. But never when it was the woman Gunnar loved.

Trey Grundenman pulled Powell to her feet. Away from her father. “Okay, Erickson, now what? I have your bitch right here. What’s the plan?”