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Heather had been starved. Summer had made oven-“fried” chicken. Heather had actually eaten a full plate this time. Her appetite was finally coming back. Probably because she’d been weaned off the pain pills over the last few days. She was actually able to nurse the baby again.

No more constantly pumping and dumping. This dairy farm mama was back in business.

She would be eternally grateful for the donated breast milk Bonnie and Joy’s friends at the hospital had provided for Ember.

Her phone rang. Powell’s ringtone. She’d been calling Heather every day since they’d left the hospital. Heather suspected the younger woman was needing reassurance again. Trauma—and pregnancy—had shaken Powell’s world completely. And it would continue. It probably never would go away completely. Heather understood that on so many levels. But she was going to do what she had to do to help Powell get to the other side. To find her happy again.

Sisters by choice now.

Never leave a sister behind.

Heather hit the button on her phone. "Hey, Powell. How are you doing?"

"Good. I...am sorry to bother you for the third time today. I know you like to go to bed early.”

"It's no bother. I'm sitting here, getting the baby to sleep. What's up?" Powell's voice sounded odd. It sent Heather's instincts flaring. She waved a hand. The rest of the room got quiet.

"That case I was discussing with you yesterday...when I drove Cashlyn home from work…that consult we discussed…I have some questions. Do you have some time to talk?”

Heather froze. Powell’s voice was tight. Frightened. Heather wasn’t stupid. "Yes, of course. I'm happy to consult while I'm off. You know that."

"Do you remember page twenty-seven of that third report?” Powell's voice wavered. She was trying to tell Heather something, but what? " I was hoping we could go over it tonight rather than meeting tomorrow at three like we'd originally planned. "

"At three? I thought we'd agreed two." They had no plans to meet at all. Then again, there was no way Powell would have driven Cashlyn home either. No. Powell was saying something. Without saying it. For some kind of reason. Heather flipped her phone to speaker quickly and waved her family to utter silence.

" No. We were going to meet after Ember's speech therapy appointment. At three."

Heather was already handing Ember off to Joy's waiting hands. Her family knew something was wrong now. "Good thing you called then. Or I would have missed the meeting. Tell you what, Summer has the girls almost asleep. Why don't I meet you for a few minutes now? We can talk alone if you want. Or Gun can drive you over here. Are you with him?"

If something was going on with Powell, that beautiful man would have been nearby.

"N-n-no. I haven't seen him since lunch today."

Cara had said she'd told Gunnar hello after her meeting with Powell. Well past lunch. He had been there, had lifted Powell off her feet and kissed her. Right in front of Cara—and Norm, who’d been there to pick Cara up. Cara had been giggling when she’d told Heather all about it. Saying how romantic it had been.

Something was definitely going on. Hope had already pulled her cell free, hit record too.

"Where are you, Powell? I'll have Penelope make copies of that file and I'll bring it right over. I could use the break from this house of chaos. You know that niece of mine really appreciates you offering her this new internship and everything. She's a funny kid. I wasn't half as intense about life when I was fifteen. Maybe Penelope will grow out of it.”

"Me-me either. " Powell was silent for a moment. " Can you have Pen make me two or three copies? I am at my mom's, and she’s out of printer ink. She...she isn't here. She and Dad went to Wyoming to see Mac for three days. They are certain he and Dylan are going to get married really soon. I have my parents’ place to myself tonight. I’m a bit scared really. Since what happened with those five guys.”

Powell was at her mother's. Her mother was there with her, probably her father too. Gunnar most likely was. And if Powell was in trouble, something very well might have happened to Gunnar. "I'll be there soon. Just as soon as Penelope makes those copies."

One of the hardest things she had ever done was disconnect that call. She turned to the women surrounding her now. "Powell's in serious trouble. At her mother's."

"Gunnar was with her. He even said…he even said, 'I am not letting you out of my sight tonight, woman. I am just not.' He picked her up and kissed her and everything," Cara said, terror in her big brown eyes. “Powell’s in trouble. Powell’s in trouble.”

"Powell kept saying three. In different ways,” Crispin said. “Odds are she's sending you a message."

Heather hadn't missed that either. The entire call had been one massive cry for help.

"Three," Eden said bluntly. "Trey is there. It makes sense. He used to run around all the time yelling three. It was his favorite number. Because he was Timothy the Third. We all called him?—”

“Timmy Three,” Samia said.

"Trey may have Powell. And her parents.” Or they were grasping straws here. But Heather wasn’t stupid, and every instinct was flaring.

If she called it in, and those road officers were in on it, it would be a big red flag that the TSP was on the way. That could be deadly for Powell and her parents. Heather needed a round-about way to get what she needed.

Cashlyn stood by the window, gaze trained out into the driveway. "We have a big problem, ladies. Two of them. Barratt boys. And they are headed our way .”

"We'll deal with them in a moment," Heather said. Her mind ran a million miles an hour as she worked out every possible scenario she could.

"Miggy is on his way. To get the kids. He'll be here at any time,” Hope said, holding Emilia close. She'd barely let go of that baby in the week since it had been revealed Timothy was probably her biological father. Hope was terrified of that now. What it could mean if it got out there. She didn’t trust the TSP to keep it quiet. Well, neither did Heather or Miguel.

Eden opened the door before their guests could knock. "Hello, gentlemen, what do we owe this honor?”

Mac Barratt stepped inside, looking annoyingly beautiful like always. "I am just here to deliver Luc's weekly letter. Hello, gorgeous Coleson Coven ladies. How are you doing tonight? Which one of you fanged vampire devil creatures would like to take me to dinner to discuss things this evening?”

Oh, he was a smug asshole. But he loved his sister. And he loved his mother and father. She wasn’t a fool. If he found out they were in trouble, he would go rushing right in, thinking he was strong enough and smart enough to rescue them.

And get himself killed in the process. Or someone else.

She wasn't about to let the Barratts lose someone they loved tonight. Not if she could stop it. She looked toward the kitchen. Summer stood there with something multicolored and rolled in her hand. Two somethings, actually.

Heather knew what her niece was thinking immediately. Summer was a bit on the diabolical side—Heather had raised her well, after all.

It would probably take them all to do it. These were big, strong boys, after all. Heather was still hurting like hell, but, well, needs must.

She would do what she had to do.

Summer handed one of the somethings in her hand to Cashlyn, who nodded. Her girls…would do what they had to do too.

Heather looked at the rest of them: Eden, Joy, Samia, Summer, Cashlyn, Cara, Crispin, Marcia, Megan, and little Maris, too, while Norm finished up a job interview somewhere in the city. Bonnie and Hope were right there too. They knew what she was going to do. "I need to grab some things upstairs. Girls, do what you need to do with the Barratt boys tonight. Una Coleson, Omnes Coleson.”

“Never leave a sister behind." Bonnie was the one who had first taught them that phrase. She said it now, like she always had.

"Sister by blood," Hope said softly.

"Sister by choice," Cara added.

“Our sister is in trouble,” Crispin whispered.

“We’ll all do what we have to do,” Heather finished.

"Now!” Summer yelled. And jumped.

The poor Barratt boys just didn't know what hit them.

But, well, even the mighty do fall sometime. Even when he’s six foot five, big and strong and far too pretty to be real.

He’d get over it. Eventually.

It was time for Heather to mount a rescue mission.