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Gunnar was fading fast. The only thing holding that beautiful man up right now was love. Determination to protect his woman and child. Heather hadn’t missed that.

Her eyes met Miguel’s beautiful lighter brown ones. He knew it too. Miguel nodded. Quietly held up one hand in an O position. He was ready.

He was going to take the shot. He was a damned good marksman. One of the best she’d ever seen. He wouldn’t miss.

“Powell, you look green. I think you might have caught a cootie from Trey, after all,” Heather said softly. “Can you lower your head a bit? It might help with the nausea. Trey, you still a big baby when it comes to vomit and everything? You might want to step away from her. Just in case. She might exorcist vomit at any moment.”

“I’m good, Auntie Heather. I’m good.” But he took a half step away from Powell.

“I have another nickname. I got it when I was pregnant. Hurling Heather. Not my best moments, actually. I had to fight for the toilet, though. Marcia and Joy were pregnant at the same time I was. We were all battling to barf. I remember when we were kids. Everything would set you off. Joy used to do it on purpose whenever you were being too much of an ass. That girl, not squeamish at all. So weird. Remember that time she had that raw cow’s liver she’d dyed blue on the table and told you she had let it mold and was dissecting it for her science fair project before she was going to cook it to see what happened? I thought you would be green forever.”

Heather was inching closer.

She was almost there. Two more feet and she could partially obscure Trey’s line-of-sight. He wouldn’t be able to see Miguel and what the other man was doing. This was a situation she and Miguel had played out time and time again. Years ago. When the world was different. When they actually believed they could make a difference. Stop the bad guys before the innocent got hurt. Well, she had learned differently.

Bad guys. Bad guys won more often than they lost.

She was just a pawn in the game. Like they all were.

But tonight, Gunnar and Powell were going to win. No matter what Heather had to do to make it happen.

One foot to go.