He pivoted toward his wife. “No, it isn’t. We have to confront him—for the sake of our unborn child, if not for ourselves.” He placed his hand against her rounded stomach. “You want our son or daughter to grow up in a safe, happy home with both parents, don’t you?”

Using their child to press his case was the trump card he’d been saving. A last resort if family loyalty continued to blind Margarita to the risk her brother represented.

“Yes. Of course.” A tear brimmed on her lower lid. “But Miguel is a good man at heart. In Mexico, he always protected me. You know it wasn’t safe where we lived. And after Papá died, he brought food home for Mamá and me. We would have starved if he hadn’t. I owe him so much.”

It was the same rationale and defense she always used.

“You repaid that debt long ago. It’s past time for your brother to find his own way—especially now that we’re starting a family. The room he uses is supposed to be the nursery.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“You’ve done that. He’s not listening. I think we both should talk to him.” He extended his hand . . . and held his breath. “Will you stand by me, for the sake of our child?”

She searched his face, lower lip trembling . . . but in the end, she slipped her fingers into his.

Sending a silent thank-you heavenward, he gave them a squeeze and led her to the kitchen.

As they entered, Miguel opened the back door, bringing a gust of cold air with him.

His gaze dropped to their entwined hands . . . and his eyes narrowed. “What’s up?”

“We have to talk.” Eduardo held tight to Margarita’s cold fingers and led her farther into the room.

“Tomorrow. It’s late, and I’m tired.” He closed the door and headed toward the hall.

Eduardo released Margarita’s hand and stepped in front of him. “Tonight.”

Miguel scrutinized him, then turned to his sister and called up the smile and endearment he reserved for her whenever he wanted a favor. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow, chiquita?”

“No. It can’t.” Eduardo ignored Margarita’s silent entreaty.

“Chiquita?” Miguel kept his attention on his sister.

At her pained expression, Eduardo’s stomach clenched. She was going to break ranks, succumb to her brother’s charm once again, leave him to—

“We have to talk tonight, Miguel.” Her statement was shaky, but the line of her mouth was firm.

Thank you, Lord.

Eduardo held out his hand.

Edging around her brother, Margarita joined him at the door and twined her fingers with his.

“Fine.” Miguel dropped any pretense of charm now that it was clear he’d lost his ally. “Say what you have to say.”

“You need to find a new place to live.”

“I plan to. Eventually.”

“Now.”

“What’s the hurry?”