Page 161 of The Secrets She Keeps

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 herfather.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 agoodman. Timothy knew that about him. This man who was raising Timothy's youngest daughter.

Why did it have to behimhere with Heather tonight?

Timothy just looked at the players around him.

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

122

Gunnar looked sick.He was bleeding pretty steadily.

Heather knew they wouldn't be able to hold this stand off for much longer.She checked the clock above the mantel. It had only been twelve minutes since she had taken Melissa’s position on the couch. They’d spent most of that timetalking.

They would have to take action eventually.

Gunnar had spent far longer thantwelveminutes bleeding.

But Powell and her father were far too exposed, right in front of Trey. Trey could try to flee. But he'd trip over Powell's father, if he did.

They would have him. But what would happen in the meantime was what concerned her the most.Trey had that damned .40 caliber, and she was almost certain it washerstolenservice weapon he was waving around right there.

They had to get Powell out of the middle. That was priority number one. She was right in the middle of them all. Exposed.

And Gunnar would do anything to keep her safe.

"Trey, you need to lower your weapon. Powell, you good?" Heather asked.

"As I can be. Feeling a little sick, though. Morning sickness is a lie. It's not just in the mornings. Happens at the worst possible times. I blame Gunnar."

“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. I puked every thirty minutes with Francisca Bonita. With Kemberly Kaye—every twenty, I swear. But it does ease off. It’s worth it.”

Powell was holding up, not panicking. But she was afraid. They were all afraid.

They were playing it by ear, here. No denying that.

The man in front of Gunnar was just staring. His fear was in his eyes. He was one of the men who had been in the warehouse. Scarface's pal. Thesheep.

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