Chapter 2

2

The woman next to her was the most annoying creature Powell had ever met. Normally, Powell tolerated her well enough. Most of the woman's catty bitchiness was caused by cluelessness and ignorance rather than mean-spiritedness, but sometimes?—

It was just a bit too much.

"Brianna, I have a lot on my mind tonight. Do you have anything important to say tonight? I put up with the petty grievances of the HOA during my time as president. It's your turn now. But a bunch of kids' bikes in their own front yard are not a big deal. The dozen potholes on Tucker Avenue, however, big issue."

"It's not just that they left them out there. It's that they have a clear disregard for the rules. Rules that were voted in for everyone years ago. Why should one family be so exempt? Because they are related to the governor? Well, how is that right?"

On and on and on.

Brianna Claireson, president of the Hughes Heights HOA, had a major problem with one particular family. One. They were all Brianna talked about. A family that had really done nothing to her that Powell could find at all.

Powell had checked—the first time Brianna had complained about them.

Brianna had been going on about them for months. To Powell. Whenever she caught Powell. Every single time she caught Powell. It was driving Powell insane. "Brianna, find a way to handle it yourself."

Rude of her, but Brianna never stopped.

Powell had a much bigger problem to worry about.

He was coming right at her now. Six foot five, broad-shouldered, incredibly fit and toned, blond and blue-eyed, he was the most beautiful man Powell had ever seen.

Gunnar was the prototype for a Viking god. She and her friends had agreed on that fact many, many months ago. Thor had nothing on Gunnar Erickson.

That he was following her everywhere she went was driving her crazy.

Reminding her of that night. The one that had changed everything.

Powell's hand covered her stomach instinctively. Where Gunnar Erickson's baby grew. And was definitely making her regret the spicy little snacks she'd eaten a few minutes ago.

She was seriously in trouble now.

Running home to her mother and father probably wasn't a viable option. Neither was hiding behind her three older brothers' extra-broad shoulders and grumpy attitudes. Tempting but not a viable option. Yet.

She was holding those three in reserve. Just in case.

"Are you going to be sick?" Brianna asked, her disgust evident as she looked at Powell's hand. "Are you contagious or something? You probably should have stayed home if you are sick."

Brianna stepped back. Fast. Brianna was a major germaphobe.

Powell almost sneezed. Just for the fun of it. But her mother had raised her to behave better than that. A bit better than that, anyway.

"Just a flare of that ulcer I had a few years ago." After a particularly nasty allergic reaction to a prescription medication, she'd struggled off and on with an ulcer caused by the steroids and anti-inflammatories she'd been given.

It was an excuse.

Her real problem was obviously looking for her right now.

"Look, Brianna, have you even bothered to talk to them ? See for yourself that they are reasonable, friendly, nice people who you might just like?" Not very likely. Powell suspected she knew exactly what Brianna's problem was—the family in question was the Colesons, after all.

Colesons had reputations.

A notorious family related to the governor's wife and Davis Lucas, one of the richest men on the planet. The Colesons living in Hughes Heights were ten women and three children. Ten very attractive, single women ranging from around eighteen all the way up to around fifty.

Colesons got attention everywhere they went, thanks to being a part of the worst criminal case in Finley Creek, Texas history.

Once they had that attention—the Coleson women kept it.

"Why would I want to talk to them? That mean cop one threatened to bite me for everyone to see!"

"Reporting them to the police for running a brothel in Hughes Heights might have been why." The Colesons had responded with a dozen clips of music videos—sent to everyone on the HOA mailing list. On Christmas Day. It had featured all the adult Coleson women dressed very suggestively, singing and dancing in ways guaranteed to get noticed. Songs about life in the brothel.

It had been particularly inventive and funny. One of the Colesons had actually written the songs. Another had done all the videography. Others had done the editing and making the costumes. They were very talented women. Cara Coleson worked as an intern at Powell's family's law firm. Cara had told her those videos were several years old. Her family had just sent them because of the whole brothel thing.

Brianna had always had problems with other women she saw as competition.

In the intro, Heather Coleson had threatened to bite Brianna for real if Brianna got too close again. Everyone in Hughes Heights had been talking about it for weeks. Laughing. Brianna was not well liked.

"Just…try leaving them alone for a few months. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am trying to avoid that gorgeous Viking man right there, and he is getting way too close. Go find your own boy toy to play with. I'm busy avoiding a Viking tonight."

"You can be so weird. My date is from Major Crimes, too, you know. His mother is the head of the Wichita Falls post. He'll run the entire TSP someday. He'll be Gunnar's boss eventually." Brianna sniffed haughtily when she said it. While eyeing Gunnar like the beautiful man he was. Powell almost laughed at what Brianna had said.

Detective Jack MacGregor didn't hold a candle to Gunnar and definitely wouldn't ever be Gunnar's boss someday. Gunnar had said as much. She hadn't known Brianna's longtime lover was Rhonda Hamler's son, though. It explained a few things.

Gunnar despised Commander Hamler. So did Powell—and her own mother. It was no wonder that woman's son was Brianna's plaything tonight. He was just Brianna's type.

Brianna liked to slum around with cops—she'd said so herself. She was too rich , she'd told Powell before, to want to really get involved with a man who worked for a living. That would just be too embarrassing.

But Brianna loved the rough type who wore a badge. Loved how wild and elemental they all were in the bedroom. She'd then proceeded to tell Powell all about it.

The details of which had traumatized Powell for eternity.

It had almost turned her off of sex forever.

Well, until Gunnar Erickson had captured her alone in Masterson, Wyoming, over Christmas.

Brianna exasperated Powell and always had. Brianna was best handled in very small doses. For now, Powell darted behind her. Brianna was skinny but almost nine inches taller.

Powell was going to hide.

Damn her pride—it was time to hide!

She wasn't ready to deal with Gunnar tonight. Powell just wasn't.

Gunnar was doing bodyguard duty right now. Every move she made, that man was beside her. Gunnar had vowed he wasn't letting her out of his sight. No matter what. He'd kept to that vow, for the most part.

He was a man on a mission.

Powell was his mission.

And damn it, she'd made a vow to herself weeks ago—no more Gunnar Erickson for her. So even though she had the most beautiful man on the planet at her beck and call right now, Powell couldn't even enjoy it.

But Powell still had to tell the man he was going to be a father.

That was not a moment she was looking forward to at all.

She knew what would happen—he would grunt in satisfaction, scoop her up over his extra-broad shoulder, carry her off to his cave, and keep her there to warm his furs and tend to his half-dozen little beautiful Viking babies as they came along—while he went out and slayed all the dragons.

Leaving her behind each and every time.

Gunnar didn't just look like a Viking—he was a throwback to another era. Powell knew what men like him were like.

She'd run into one just like him when she had been in college. It had not had a pretty outcome. It had taken all three of her brothers to get that man to back off. She had never forgotten. And Gunnar was even more of a barbarian through and through.

She didn't want to repeat that mistake.

"I caught you. You are mine now."

She yelped when the barbarian in question just appeared from behind the column, his hands out. Damn, he was fast.

In this game of Avoid the Viking! she'd been playing, he was definitely in the lead. He caught her every time she tried to escape. "Gunnar! You scared me."

"You escaped me. You know you are supposed to protect me from women like Rhonda Hamler. Now I have cooties and must sanitize as soon as I get back to my room."

Gunnar had his hands on her waist, just that fast. Then Powell found herself pressed against the column, his much larger body hot against hers. Just what was he doing right now?

"She likes what she sees, but she's ready to devour me completely. That barracuda doesn't like me—or Major Crimes."

"She's always been a vicious bitch." And it was the truth. Powell had known that woman her entire life too. Her own mother had had battles with Rhonda Hamler in the past. Lots of battles with Rhonda Hamler. So much so that her mother snarled every time Rhonda was even mentioned.

Being of the wealthy elite in Texas brought its own share of problems. There was no denying that. Powell just did her best to navigate these waters on her own now.

She was the only female Barratt of her generation. She was a Barratt—and that meant expectations. Especially in this city her ancestors had founded years ago. Powell was making her mark on the business, law, and real estate worlds. She was building a legacy—for the baby she wanted so much but had never expected to have.

She'd never seriously considered having children of her own.

Babies generally required fathers, after all.

And, well, that meant romance.

Powell had never been good at the whole romance thing. From about high school on. She'd made a vow years ago to avoid romantic relationships and focus on what she knew she was good at—making businesses work for her. That whole building-her- own- empire-to-be-proud-of thing.

A relationship and babies really hadn't factored into her plans.

Mostly because she was too big of a chicken to even consider it, honestly. She'd figured that out recently. Powell had done a lot of soul-searching since Christmas. Since those life-altering little pink lines.

Just look at how much things had gotten screwed up with the big barbarian holding her now. "Gunnar, what are…you doing?"

"What does it feel like I am doing?" He gave that wicked grin that she melted for every single time. She loved it when he grinned like that.

It made her feel wicked too.

Like they had a secret.

Which, now, they did.

No one knew she'd gotten his clothes off back in December and done one of the craziest things in her life. One male finger brushed up her spine—over the skin left bare by her dress. She shivered.

"You wore this to tempt me tonight, to drive me mad. I am wise to you. You wore the same shade of blue beneath your clothes that night in Wyoming. It's my favorite color now."

A small thrill went through her. Maybe a part of her had tonight. Which was utterly insane. She had never dressed to impress or tease a man in her thirty-one years.

"Are you now? I thought we agreed hands to ourselves." Oh, she wanted the exact opposite of that.

No man had ever made her feel the way this one did.

Maybe that was part of the problem. She just didn't know what to do with him.

Other than taking his clothes off anyway.

Which, doing that had led to her current predicament. She probably shouldn't forget that.

He started to say something. Then his cell rang. He paused. "Hold that thought. That's Dom's ringtone."

Powell stayed right where she was. Until his hand tightened on her and he pulled her close. "We'll be right there."

When he disconnected, she just knew —it was bad. Really, really bad. She could see the bad in his eyes of perfect blue. Powell's ulcer—dormant since two weeks after she'd gotten out of the hospital after the allergic reactions years ago—threatened to flare up for real right then and there.

"Who?"

She knew so many of the men in Major Crimes. Someone she knew. It had to be someone she knew.

"That was Dom. He called from FCGH, babe." Gunnar's hands went around her waist. He pulled her closer. "It's Haldyn, sweetheart. She was shot tonight. Haldyn and Hope Coleson—they have both been shot on scene. They are up in surgery at FCGH right now."

Powell started shaking, and she just couldn't stop. No.

No. Not… Haldyn . Haldyn was her closest friend on the entire planet. Ever. The sister of her soul. No.

Just not Haldyn. Just…no. Tears covered her cheeks. Her entire body threatened to shake apart. His hands were on her. They were all that were holding her together now.

Haldyn. No. Not Haldyn. Not her. Just not her.

"Come on, babe. Let's go. I'm going to get you to her, okay? I'll get you there, Powell. I promise."