Page 158 of The Secrets She Keeps

"Gunnar!You're…here. You're right here!" He would never forget the pure joy and love in her eyes when she looked at him. "I thought he said...you're bleeding."

"This? Just a little scratch. I am in a bit of a bad mood, right now, though." She was too close to the younger Grundenman for his liking.Her father was sprawled in the middle of the overly large sitting room, almost to the arched entry to the family room.

Heather stood quickly; she held her weapon pointed at the older Grundenman now. "See, Timmy Three, you have always thought you were smarter than me. And we just allknowthat isn't true. Did youhonestlythink I came in here all alone? Did you seriously think I would be that stupid? Or that Powell wouldn’t send me a message for help? Did you?"

Then Miguel was there in the north door. There was blood on him and an almost feral look on his face.“Well, well, well. Party started without me.”

"Miggy, are you bleedingagain,dear?" Heather asked almost chidingly. There was a great deal of blood on the other man's shirt. "We have discussed this bad habit of yours too many times before."

"Not my blood."

"That doesn't make it okay, dear. It just doesn't. I have told you too many times before."

"Well, most of it isn’t mine. May have cut my arm on some glass upstairs. It just…incentivized me a bit.” Miguel shrugged and grinned. He looked so damned fierce and terrifying, Gunnar almost laughed.

Especially seeing the streak of what had to be pink finger paint on the man's jeans. What a contradiction the man was.

"Enjoy yourself tonight, Mig? You get to crush a skull or two upstairs?”

"Just one, Gun. Can honestly say I did enjoy it too. I’ve been feeling a bit tense lately, needed the outlet..." Miguel looked at Powell. "Sorry about the carpet in your old bedroom. And…your French doors. I needed a way in—abigenough way in. I couldn’t quite shimmy through the basement window like your man could. Your parents will have to replace them."

"Small price to pay to see you again, Commander Rodriguez," Powell said calmly. She wasn't panicking.Of course not, Powell didn’tpanic.At least, she never let it show. “You sure you aren’t hurt too badly?”

“Just a little scratch. Honey, I want you to step a few steps toward me, okay?” Miguel said, keeping his weapon steady on Timothy Grundenman.

“My dad…”

“Would want you to take a few steps toward me, too,” Miguel told her firmly. “Trust me on that.”

"Powell, do as Mig says," Heather told her. "Gun, Mig and I need to decide what we are going to do here now. Did anyone bother to bring cuffs to this little party? I seem to have left all my cuffs in my lingerie drawer tonight. I do have a roll of duct tape in my pocket, though. What’s…left anyway. I suspect Hazel Hopebought this roll—it is covered with pink and purple hearts. She has a really girly side, loves the color purple, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Miguel said, stepping toward Powell a bit more. Gunnar understood the man’s plan.

Miguel was going to put himself bodily between Powell and Timothy Grundenman. He’d just earned Gunnar’s loyalty for life.

“I'm usually much better prepared than this. I do apologize,” Heather said. “I've had a bit of a rough month, and everything. Entirely your fault, Tim. Yours and Timmy Three."

Gunnar forced the man in front of him to his knees. "Hands on your head."

The guy did as he was told. He was shaking from fear.

Hell, Gunnar wouldn't be surprised if the punk pissed himself soon.Heather tossed Gunnar the tape. It hadglittertoo.He ignored the pain in his chest, and made short work of taping the guy’s hands. And feet. He wasn't going anywhere.

Gunnar ignored a rush of dizziness. He wasn't about to let weakness show.

"Well, I see you found Perv Number Four," Heather said, looking at that man. "He likessmallwomen, Gun. He told your Powell all about it. Hands all over her, too."

"Well now, so that's him? I've been waiting a long time to get my hands on him." Gunnar grabbed the guy’s shoulder. Squeezed until the guy cried out. He stopped short of breaking the guy’s collar bone. One of the hardest things he had ever done. “He’s going to be a good boy. Since I’m in a bit of a bad mood now. Iplannedto spend a nice family dinner razzing my girl’s older brothers about their love lives tonight, you know. Rumor has it Alex is pining for little Cara Coleson, and someone said Mac might have a real burningthingfor Heather or something.”

“Not bloody likely,” the Heather in question said. “I’d be way too much for a man like Mackie Mac McBarratt.”

“But it would be really fun to watch,” Powell said.

"What are you fucking going to do?" Trey Grundenman asked, smirking. Like he was still in control here. Even with Miguel pointing his forty caliber at him. "You're cops. Thegoodguys. You can't exactly just kill us or anything. You have to follow the rules,” he said after Miguel introduced himself, his job title, and ordered Trey to surrender. They had to at least say it to cover TSP ass.

"Really? Haven't you heard? The TSP is corrupt. Dirty. I know you have friends there still. They should have told you," Heather said. "Let's see...Kimball, Costovia, Callahan—I never met that one, though—Bell, of course. And, well, Steve. Hard for me to forget him. He's not here in front of me, but you are. I'd hate to overreact and everything, kill you for revenge or something. We can kill all three of you right now, and just...say you fired first. We’d be believed too. How is that for a kicker? Beingbelieved.You broke into this fine family's home and held them hostage too. You are the bad guy, Timmy Three. You are. And surprise. Your time is up."

"Already killed one guy tonight anyway," Miguel said, still grinning.Almost whistling.

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