Twisted Royals Origin Story

by Bristol, Sidney

  “Thanks.” Chloe Kelly took the pint from him and took a long sip.

  Erik watched her, taking pure joy in the sight of her.

  She might be Ian’s twin, but Erik didn’t see Ian when he looked at Chloe.

  Was she...was that...make-up?

  She set the glass down and daintily daubed her lips with a napkin.

  She was wearing lipstick.

  What the hell?

  “That’s the stuff,” she said. Her cheeks tinged pink and she smiled, her eyes lightening up.

  “You’re all dressed up.” He should keep observations like that to himself, but he so rarely saw Chloe that he couldn’t help his mouth running away from him.

  “Yeah, well...” She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He braced his forearms on the bar, mimicking her pose.

  “I made the mistake of tellin’ Ian about my friend who set me up with some guy her husband works with.” Chloe grimaced.

  “Date not go well?” Erik wanted to punch the guy’s teeth out for breathing the air around Chloe. Instead he curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms.

  “We didn’t even get our drink order in before he left.” She chuckled and shrugged. “It’s okay. Better to get that out of the way than waste time with someone who won’t stick around, you know?”

  “He’s a bastard, whoever he is.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.” Chloe grinned and sipped her beer. “Hey, thanks again for comin’ to Delilah’s party and getting the DJ. That was really nice of you. You didn’t have to do it.”

  “I wanted to.” He smiled and this time it wasn’t forced.

  “You guys were all so great with the kids. I can’t tell you how much it’s meant to Delilah and the others.”

  Erik wanted to keep that look on Chloe’s face forever. It made him feel...taller. Prouder. Better.

  “Yeah, well, I’m glad we could help. It...” He stared at the bar, where the light created a long, gleaming streak. “My older brother, he was born with Down syndrome. Passed away a couple of years due to a heart defect we didn’t know about until it was too late. Living with someone like that...it teaches you things about life and caring for people. It was good to see kids like Bjørn. Reminds me what’s good in life.”

  “I never knew that.”

  Erik shrugged. He didn’t mention Bjørn much to people who hadn’t known him, but there wasn’t a day that went by when Erik didn’t miss his older brother.

  “Bjørn was a lot like your daughter. He made people smile. Laugh so hard your belly would hurt. He was a good guy. A real good guy.”

  “Well, to Bjørn, for bein’ the best older brother and teachin’ his little brother a thing or two before he was called home.” Chloe lifted her glass.

  Erik poured himself a shot of whiskey, clinked glasses with Chloe and downed the liquor. Erik had learned a lot from his brother, but he’d lost sight of a few things. Bjørn’s ability to live in the moment was one of them. Then again, when Erik first met Chloe she’d been an unhappily married woman. Things were different now. Erik might not be the kind of man Chloe would want for herself or her daughter, but to put it as Bjørn had, you never knew what you hadn’t tried.

  “Hey, guys?” Owen leaned on the bar.

  “Blake’s not here,” Erik said, mentally cursing the detective for piss poor timing. It wasn’t like Erik got to indulge his obsession for his friend’s sister often.

  “Not looking for Blake. Is your aunt here?” Owen’s grin set off a whole string of warning bells. Aunt Liv required all the regulars to call her aunt, but only Erik and his cousin Felix were related to her by blood.

  What was the meddling detective up to now?

  Aunt Liv

  Aunt Liv ticked off the bottles one by one, comparing them to the inventory and marking off what they needed to buy more of, what they could take off the usual order.

  This whole prince thing was a hoot but they hadn’t planned on the liquor they’d burn through. Good thing they could squeeze in a half-delivery ahead of schedule or they’d be screwed. She’d felt something in the air, she just hadn’t expected this. It was good for business, despite what Erik liked to mutter about their regulars complaining about the crown chasing sort of women.

  The storage room door creaked open.

  “You got to stop drinking all the whiskey,” she called out over her shoulder. Erik didn’t drink much, but this prince business had brought up memories of sweet Bjørn. Her nephew would drink them away if he could. Erik had never been the same after his brother’s death.

  “Hello, Liv.”

  That...was not her nephew’s voice.

  She stared at the wall, memories tickling the back of her mind. Other things that voice had whispered to her in the dark of night.

  Liv turned, peering through the dim light at the man standing just under one of the bulbs.

  He was older, less hair, more lines around his face, but they were the kind of things that spoke of a life well lived.

  Liv opened and closed her mouth.

  No.

  Was it...?

  Could it be...?

  But...how?

  Two other people stood just behind him, their faces shrouded in shadow.

  “John?” His name squeaked out of her as though forced. And maybe it was. Saying his name, giving credence to this hallucination would only drive home the fact that she was here. And still alone.

  “Hi, Liv. It’s good to see you.” He smiled, took a few steps forward, and then stopped.

  “Oh my goodness.” Liv had no such reservations. She rushed toward him, throwing her arms around John.

  He hugged her just as tight as she held him.

  To think, after all these years, he’d found her. While she was doing inventory, of all things. She peered up at him, still spying that same young man who’d made her laugh so hard she hadn’t realized he’d swept her off her feet.

  John lifted his hand and brushed her hair off her face.

  The light caught on a gold ring on his left finger.

  John glanced at it and winced.

  Liv felt the wind go out of her sails.

  He was married.

  Of course John would be married. He was a catch.

  The sting of disappointment made her knees more than a bit weak.

  “I’m a widower, two years now.” He stepped back and wiggled the band. “It...it’s hard to take it off.”

  Her heart twinged. Loss was never easy.

  She took his hand in hers and squeezed.

  “What was her name?”

  “Jessica.”

  “Such a lovely name.”

  “She was a good woman.”

  “It’s so good to see you.” She hugged John again.

  “I’ve thought about this moment for a long time.” Warmth shone from the depths of his eyes.

  Liv’s throat closed up, robbing her of the ability to speak.

  It was the same kind of feeling burning in her chest.

  Was it possible to reconnect, back at that very moment they’d been separated all those years ago?

  Owen grinned at her once before sliding through the swinging door.

  Some fairy godmothers weren’t mothers at all. Sometimes they were scruffy young men with hearts of gold, and the world at their feet. What a good day for a story...

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  Alpha Prince

  Twisted Royals 1

  Once upon a time there was a princess with an evil step mother, who wanted her dead, and a prince ready to stand by her side...

  Ian Kelly never thought he'd see her again. The woman who ran out on him after some of the hottest sex of his life. Taylor Carter. He knows a damsel in distress when he sees one, but Taylor doesn't want saving.

  Taylor only meant to do the right thing. Now she's on the run from her mafia step-mother an
d her best friend might be dead. Even the FBI has turned on her, and the only person in her corner is a hot Irishman with a nose for danger.

  Ian can't turn his back on Taylor, not when his gut tells him she's an innocent in a den of thieves. Soon enough her past comes calling, and it'll take more than true love's kiss to fix Taylor's problems.

  1.

  Ian Kelly stared at the empty stool at the end of the bar. He could still see her sitting there. Hair so black it gleamed blue, ruby red lips and eyes he could get lost in. What’d begun as a mutually-enjoyable evening had taken a sharp turn, one he was still reeling from.

  He just couldn’t get her out from under his skin.

  And he didn’t know her name.

  She’d said it was Anne, but given how fast she’d run out on him the moment he shut his eyes after a couple rounds of memorable sex, he doubted that was her real name. It’d be his rotten luck, she was someone’s wife stepping out for a night. That idea churned his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d looked for the signs, saw none, and didn’t think twice, not once her lips met his and things started happening.

  “What are you do’en ‘ere?”

  “Mornin’, Aunt Liv. Ryan ‘round? He asked me to drop him off some clothes.” Ian smiled at the woman across the bar. It was early still, and the Trinity Hall pub wasn’t actually open, but that didn’t matter. Aunt Liv was always around.

  “He’s down helpin’ Erik with those shelves.” Aunt Liv grinned. Then again, she always smiled, but lately it was...brighter.

  “Somethin’ goin’ on with you?” Ian leaned against the bar while Aunt Liv put pint and wine glasses in the racks. She wasn’t Ian’s aunt, but that hardly mattered. Liv treated all the regulars like family.

  “Me?” Her brows rose. “Oh, nothin’ much.”

  “Out with it.” Ian picked up a folded rag and flicked the end at her.

  “Oi, you, stop that.” Aunt Liv laughed and held up her hand, fending him off. She snatched the rag from his hand and expertly turned the tables, popping him on the arm.

  “Hey, now.” Ian pulled back, palms lifted in surrender.

  “You’re a rascal, Ian Kelly.” Aunt Liv wagged her finger at him. Her eyes were sparkling and her smile bright.

  “Seriously, what’s goin’ on with you?” Ian braced his forearms on the bar.

  “Oh, nothing much.”

  “Come on, Aunt Liv...”

  “Fine.” She sighed and rubbed at an imaginary speck of something on the bar. “Owen did a little diggin’—”

  “Oh no...” Ian winced. Owen was a good detective, one of Ian’s best friends, but he could be...nosey.

  “—and he found my John.”

  “Your who?”

  “My John.” Aunt Liv sighed dramatically. “We met when we were younger and lost contact. I knew he’d lived in this area back then, so Owen found him.”

  “That’s great.” Anything that put a smile on Aunt Liv’s face was good in his book.

  “Yeah. I suppose it feels a bit like a fairy tale.”

  “You met him then? Or, saw him again?”

  “I did.”

  “He good to you?”

  “John is one of the best.”

  “Good man, then. Warn him that if he screws with you, I’ll punch his lights out, okay?” Ian rapped his knuckles on the bar. “I’m goin’ to go check on Ryan. I want to hear more about John later.”

  “Are you harassing Aunt Liv?” Ryan strolled around the end of the bar, a liberal coating of dust on his clothing.

  “No more than she asked for.” Ian shrugged.

  “Is this overgrown leprechaun bothering you?” Ryan thumbed at Ian.

  “Go fuck yourself.” Ian chunked the bag at the other man. “I brought you some clothes. Looks like you might need them.”

  Ryan scowled, but it was the truth. Those were the same clothes Ian had seen him leave the apartment wearing two days ago. Who the hell knew whose bed he’d been in? Not that Ian was one to point fingers at anyone for hopping beds, but Ryan practically made it a sport.

  “Where are you headed?” Ryan gave Ian a once-over.

  “Consultin’ gig.” Ian grimaced. He and Ryan both worked for Aegis Group, a private security firm that’d recently opened a Seattle office, allowing Ian to live close to the only family that would claim him. A handful of guys, like Ryan, had relocated to follow the new opportunity.

  “Yeah? What’s the job?”

  “Some rich guy’s gotten some threats. Wants help findin’ out who it is, without involvin’ the cops.” Everything about this job set off Ian’s warning bells. Their boss had considered turning it down, but it was a lot of money for only a little work. Ultimately, it’d been Ian’s choice to do it, since it was his hide on the line if things went bad. He didn’t think they would, but with some of these guys it was never certain.

  “No cops?” Ryan leaned against the bar, squinting at him.

  “Yeah, I don’t much like it. He wants to revamp his security, thinks it might be one of his people.”

  “You need any help with this one?” Ryan set the bag on one of the bar stools.

  “I don’t think so. Boss keepin’ you in reserve?”

  “Yeah, man.” Ryan grimaced.

  “Sorry, mate.” If Ian hadn’t had his PI license to fall back on, he’d be cooling his heels with Ryan.

  “Oh, well, right?” Ryan shrugged.

  “I’ll see you round. Likely to be out a few days.”

  “Don’t have too much fun, you bastard leprechaun.”

  Ian flipped Ryan the bird on his way out to his Jeep.

  Guilt continued to gnaw at Ian. A bunch of the guys from the pub had pitched in to help Ian with his niece’s birthday party. They’d unintentionally become viral Internet stars for their portrayal of fictional princes. Sure, they all enjoyed making the kids smile and salvaging her special day, but one enterprising photographer had propelled them all into the limelight. Maybe if they were normal guys with nine-to-five jobs it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but most of them weren’t.

  Ian and Ryan couldn’t do their jobs if they were busy taking pictures. Owen was a detective. His chief hadn’t appreciated quite so much attention.

  And there were other guys who found themselves harassed by the self-dubbed “Prince Chasers,” at last one guy had lost his job over the coverage and another had some nasty family stuff cropping up. The last couple of weeks had become a nightmare of dodging the press and keeping their heads down, praying it would blow over.

  Ian had stayed as far away from people interested in the princely façade as he could, since their TV interview-gone-wrong had aired. If he could go back and do it all over again... Hell, he’d be hard pressed not to do it again. The way his niece had smiled, the joy that day had given her, was worth it.

  But what a fucking nightmare for the rest of them.

  At least Ryan seemed to be enjoying his fame. Ian wasn’t sure his roommate had spent more than five nights in his own bed since this whole thing started. And why not? Their boss had pretty much benched them from active duty until the fuss died down.

  Ian climbed into his Jeep and picked up the file, doing one last flip through.

  George Wachtel.

  On the surface, he was a smooth-talking, wheeling, dealing businessman. Below that veneer... Ian didn’t like what he saw. And that was before he got to the background checks on Mr. Wachtel’s employees, especially the ones with direct access to his house.

  The red flags were many.

  No one surrounded themselves with that many convicts by choice. The threat could be literally anyone on Mr. Wachtel’s staff, which meant this job could very well end up being full of more pitfalls than Ian expected. Still, it was work. He didn’t have to arrest anyone, just assess the staff, look at the threats and hand over his findings to Mr. Wachtel.

  At least, that was what Ian kept telling himself.

  “No! Don’t eat that. Spit it out.” Taylor Carter
dug her fingers into the tiny puppy’s mouth, prying out yet another itty-bitty toy. Her luck, the silly little thing would swallow it, choke and die.

  “I’m sorry, Taylor!” Stacey Wachtel herded the other two miniature French Bulldog puppies into the corner.

  “It’s okay, Stacey.” Taylor tried her best to sound soothing, but the truth was, she was fraying from all sides and none of it was Stacey’s fault.

  Her boss had a private investigator coming today.

  That simple fact had Taylor’s nerves strung tight and her stomach all knotted up. She’d already packed and unpacked her suitcase twice. If she had somewhere to go, she might already be on the road, but the truth was, hiding out in Mr. Wachtel’s shadow was her best bet at staying safe for now. Besides, now that Taylor had met Stacey, she didn’t want to leave. The little girl had burrowed into Taylor’s heart so deep that she kept looking for ways to stay a part of her life. But the truth was slapping her in the face.

  Taylor’s time here was coming to an end, and she wasn’t ready for it.

  She’d paid off the guys hounding her for more money, buying her a little time, but it wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough. Her secrets were her own, for now, but how long would that last? If George hadn’t found the threat meant for her, maybe she’d be okay. But he had, and now the PI would begin digging and Taylor didn’t think her new identity would hold out under close inspection from a professional.

  It was just a matter of time. Who’d get to her first? George? Or her step-mother?

  Taylor finally got the doll shoe out of the puppy’s mouth.

  “You’re lucky you’re cute, Dopey,” she muttered.

  Taylor tucked one puppy under her arm and scooped up the other two escapees before they got the best of eight-year-old Stacey.

  “I just wanted to pet them.” Stacey’s face creased with worry.

  “You can pet the puppies.” Taylor held the least squirmy one out to her.

  “No, I mean... I accidentally let them out.”

  “I didn’t hear that.” Taylor stared up at the ceiling, trying her best not to laugh. Or smile. God, Stacey was so much like her. Taylor winked at Stacey. “Come on, let’s get them put up and we’ll pretend this never happened.”