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Lindsey clutched his hand, the sullen preteen now a scared young girl. Both children remained silent, eyes wide, breaths rasping. She noted Christopher seemed to be wheezing a little. “Do you have his inhaler?”
    â€œIn my pocket.” Nicholas fumbled in the front pocket of his jeans.
    His heart thudded, not so much in fear for himself as for the kids and his staff. And the marshals. Most specifically, Carly.
    God, please don’t let anyone get hurt. I know she’s skilled in her job, but I can’t live with someone else I know dying…
    Her right hand gripped Christopher’s; her left curled around the gun. She motioned them left at the bottom of the steps, across the den and into the kitchen. She opened the laundry-room door and said, “All right. In you go. Lock it behind you.”
    Thankfully, he’d installed the lock on the laundry-room door when the kids had come to live with him. He hadn’t wanted Christopher to accidentally get into the household supplies he kept in there.
    Although if someone was determined to get in, neither the door nor the lock would hold against a swift kick with a booted foot.
    Nick felt the weight of his weapon pressing against his lower back and itched to pull it out. Why hadn’t the alarm gone off? Then he realized that he hadn’t heard the generator kick in.
    Lips pressed into a thin line, he motioned the kids in. Mason, Debbie and the Jeffersons appeared next to him. He reached across the counter and grabbed the telephone.
    Dead.
    Grimly, he reported, “No power and no generator for some reason. Phone line’s been cut, too.”
    â€œGreat,” Mason muttered.
    â€œGet in,” Nick urged. Debbie led the way. The children immediately attached themselves to her side. Nick handed the inhaler to her, and she passed it to Christopher, who stuck it in his mouth for a good puff. His eyes pleaded with Nick as he whined, “I want Pepper.”
    Nick rubbed his head. “I’ll go get him in just a minute, okay?”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œPromise. You just concentrate on breathing, okay?”
    Christopher gave a reluctant nod. The Jeffersons entered the room, and Nicholas shut the door.
    Carly looked at him. “What are you doing? Get in there.”
    He narrowed his eyes on her and pulled his gun from the back of his waistband. “Not a chance.”
    â€œThis is what we’re here for, remember?” she protested.
    Mason motioned toward the front of the house. “No time to argue. Judge, you stay back and out of sight if you can. Use the gun if necessary.”
    â€œYou’re not making this any easier.” Carly’s nose flared as she shot him a look mixed with anger and fear. Nicholas understood her anger, wondered at her fear.
    â€œThis is my fight,” he insisted. “I won’t deny I might need help, but I refuse to sit on the sidelines while somebody else fights it.”
    Â 
    Carly bit her lip and forced aside visions of him lying in a pool of blood.
    Her gut clenched and a protest hovered on her lips. Then a loud crash came from just ahead. Carly stepped in frontof Nicholas and pointed her gun in the direction of the sound. “Freeze!”
    Running footsteps sounded. The flash of a large shadow darted around a corner. Nicholas brushed past her and took off in pursuit. Mason ran the other way, and Carly knew he was looking to cut off the intruder.
    She counted one person inside the house.
    But how many were outside?
    Sirens sounded in the distance. Help was on the way. She hoped the approaching authorities would scare off whoever was on the property. The dogs were barking like crazy. How had the intruders gotten past them?
    Carly followed Nicholas, determined to back up whatever he was doing. She’d hold on to the tongue-lashing she wanted to give him until after everyone was safe.
    Rounding the corner, she pulled up short. Nicholas had his back up against the side