His Princess (A Royal Romance)

by Abigail Graham

  They’re probably all going to be coming after me soon.

  I’m a dead man. I will bring nothing but turmoil and suffering into the life of anyone I meet now, not that I was much of a catch before. I did all those one-night stands a favor ignoring their calls.

  Connections are death. Form a human bond with somebody and it can be used against you, and worse, probably will. When I took up my mentor’s trade I became husband to death, brother to misery. I bought a fine life for myself at the expense of never waking up in a bed with the same woman two nights in a row. Never staying in the same house too long. Never fathering a child to bear my name or carry my memory.

  I am become death.

  It was a hard lesson I learned from Santiago. He taught me poisons, marksmanship, hand to hand, torture techniques, psychology, all sorts of things, but his last lesson was never to form any attachments. They’re a liability. A weakness.

  I took in the lesson but I’ll never forgive him for the way he delivered it. I swore if I ever saw him again, I’d kill him.

  Now I may have to make good on my promise.

  I’m fine with that.

  These people, I can’t believe they live like this. As I drive through this town I marvel at them. How can you stand behind a counter in a Laundromat all day, handing out tokens so people can bleach skid marks from their underwear?

  It’s all so banal. There’s a fast-food joint, there’s a car dealer, here’s a little bookstore. Late nights and fast women, love ’em and leave ’em, roll the hard six. That’s me, not the burbs.

  Now I’m stuck in this hellhole until someone comes to kill me. Probably Santiago. When he hears there’s a price on my head, he’ll probably go after the bounty himself. He’d consider it rude not to, an insult to allow lesser hunters to seek after his apprentice. Unless he sent that girl Lily after me.

  I shouldn’t be here. These people are not ready for this.

  I spend the next hour driving, until I have half a tank and pull into a gas station. A few admirers gawk at the car, until my glare sends them packing.

  Stupid rules. What asshole decided you can’t park in your driveway?

  For that matter, why do you drive on a parkway and park in a driveway? The same asshole probably came up with that.

  I wish I knew before I filled the garage up with equipment. I guess I’ll have to move it into the basement, or something.

  Sigh. Moving.

  I need something to eat. There’s a diner. I park and as I walk inside I instinctively check the exits, planning a route of escape and mapping out the direction of potential threats. The hostess leads me to a corner seat, and I have to compromise. I can face the doors, but have to sit back against a picture window. Imagine the indignity. A common sniper takes down the legendary Quentin Mulqueen.

  I tap my spoon on the table until the waitress calls me “hon” and takes my order.

  Since I’m going to get my brains blown out soon anyway, I go hog wild and order a great big greasefest—the Hungry Momma, they call it. Pancakes, waffles, French toast, sausage, bacon, and eggs, so much food it takes up two plates. It’s the biggest breakfast on the menu.

  It takes me an hour to eat and I can’t finish the short stack or the waffle, but the waitress gives me a knowing look as I walk, bloated, outside.

  I guess if this is retirement, it’s okay.

  Though I should just head back to the house, I find myself driving by the dentist’s office again. Not too slow. I don’t want to freak her out.

  There’s something off about Rose. She gets my hackles up, among other parts of my anatomy, but something around her smells wrong, like she’s hiding some secret. My instincts are pretty good about this stuff, as a rule.

  Let it lay, Quent. You have your own problems.

  I head “home”, such as it is. I stop at the gate and the guard waves me through, and I roll on back to the house, pull up, and park.

  There’s somebody in my backyard.

  I bolt around the garage at full speed, my feet sliding in the grass. I don’t get a good look at the intruder, I just tackle them.

  She lets out a high-pitched yelp, and I find myself sprawled in the grass, poised over a coltish teenage girl who looks a hell of a lot like Rose.

  I’m on my hands and knees over a thirteen-year-old. Bad idea.

  I throw myself back onto my ass and sit in the grass.

  “What the hell are you doing in my yard?”

  “Uhhhhhhh,” she says, “I… Ummm… I gotta go, bye!”

  She rolls and shoots to her feet. I reach out and tug her ankle and she sprawls in the wet grass.

  “What were you doing in my yard, kid?”

  “Nothing! I swear!”

  “Nothing?”

  Panting, she brushes a red lock out of her eyes. “Okay, I was spying on you.”

  “What? What the hell for?”

  “I just wondered what was going on.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Well… Yeah, but—”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Karen.”

  “Okay, Karen. Get in the car.”

  “I don’t think I should…”

  “Get in the car.”

  She flinches and rises to her feet. I’m up quickly, though my leg is on fire. Don’t show any weakness, Quentin. Karen gets inside and huddles in the seat as I drop in next to her.

  “What are you doing?”

  I don’t answer her.

  “Am I being kidnapped?”

  “Yes.”

  She flinches. “I’m sorry, mister. I didn’t see anything, I swear.”

  “Mr. Mulqueen. That’s my name. Karen.”

  “O-o-okay,” she says.

  So I drive.

  I wave at the gate guard. Karen gives him a worried look.

  She bites her nails the whole way back to town. When she sees where we’re going, all the color drains from her face.

  “Oh God,” she says as I pull into the parking lot of the dentist’s office where her mom works.

  “Out,” I snap after I pull the parking brake. “Don’t run, you won’t make it.”

  Trembling, Karen stands up. I get up and motion her inside, and she opens the door. I hold it and watch her go in, then follow.

  Rose looks up from her desk and her jaw drops. She bolts to her feet and darts around the desk to the door, storms out, and grabs Karen.

  “What are you doing here?” Then she looks at me. “What are you doing with my daughter?”

  I look at her. I blink. Then I walk outside.

  Two seconds later she’s on me, her daughter in tow, sniffling and trying not to cry.

  “What the hell is this?”

  I round on her. “Ask Karen. I got home and found her sneaking around in my backyard, trying to get into my house.”

  Rose stands straight up. “How dare you… I’ll call the…”

  “It’s true, Mom,” Karen says quietly.

  Rose’s face twists and she turns on her daughter.

  “You’re skipping school.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Before Karen can answer, Rose demands, “What were you doing in his backyard?”

  “I was curious,” Karen whimpers. “I just wanted to see what’s up with him.”

  “There’s nothing up with him!” Rose almost shouts. “Damn it, Karen, I don’t need this. My boss is going to chew me out for making a scene here, and how are you going to get to school?”

  The door swings open, and a man in medical scrubs steps out. Tall and skinny, graying hair, he looks about old enough to be Rose’s father.

  His eyes snap onto Karen like a horny squirrel on a sexy peanut.

  “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing,” Rose says, fear tight in her voice, like a strained note on a guitar string about to snap.

  “Not nothing,” the old man says. “Who’s this?”

  I might as well not even be here. He�
��s looking Karen over. His top lip pulls back over his teeth and there’s a hungry look in his eye, and the way his gaze roves up and down…

  For fuck’s sake, she’s a kid.

  “Hey,” I snap.

  He looks up at me.

  “Her eyes are up there.”

  Rose turns beet red, and Karen shrinks back.

  “Excuse me?”

  “He didn’t mean anything,” Rose stammers out in a pleading voice. “Please, I’ll take care of this. I just need to get my daughter to school—”

  “I’ll take her,” I volunteer.

  Quentin, for fuck’s sake…

  The old guy nods and gives Rose a tough look before slipping inside.

  “That was my boss—”

  “He was eye fucking your daughter,” I growl.

  “You are not—”

  “Yes I am. Get in the car, Karen.”

  Karen squeaks and runs back to the Impala. I fold my arms.

  “I can’t have trouble here,” she says. “I can’t get in trouble at work, Quentin. I need this job.”

  “Your daughter—”

  She lowers her voice.

  “I know what he is. I don’t have a choice. This is the first time he’s ever seen her. He was just looking, anyway. I…”

  She hitches, her shoulders jerking as she chokes down a noise like a sob.

  “Hey…”

  I reach out for her but she shies back.

  “Thank you for taking her to school for me, Quentin.”

  “Anytime, Rose. Listen, if that guy gets…creepy, talk to me. I’ll have a talk with him.”

  She blinks a few times.

  “What are you, twelve? That’s not how the world works, Quentin.”

  She ducks inside, brushing at her face.

  Good job, Quent. She’s probably going to lose her job now.

  Sighing, I slip back into the car.

  Karen sits on the front seat, hugging herself.

  “You’re taking me to school?”

  “Yeah. I don’t actually know where it is, so I’ll need directions.”

  “Um,” she says. “Okay.”

  I drive.

  It takes us twenty minutes to make a five-minute trip.

  Here’s a tip: never take driving directions from someone who can’t drive a car and gives you instructions like, “I think you turn here,” and, “It’s up that road by the other road.”

  “Um,” she says as I park out front of the school. “Somebody has to sign me in. Like an adult.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, or…”

  “I think your mom will want you to get detention, kid.”

  Karen whimpers, and my resolve softens for a moment.

  She reaches for the door.

  “Um,” she says. “Do you like my mom?”

  “What?”

  “Do you like her?”

  “Uh, I guess? I like her just fine.”

  Karen lights up like a Christmas tree and practically runs into the school.

  The fuck did I just do?

  4

  Rose

  Oh God, please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me.

  When Burt walks into the reception area, I tense like a scared rabbit watching a cat slink toward her little baby bunnies. I can’t read the look on his face. He always wears that same crude smile, that same appraising look. I feel even more naked than usual as his gaze rakes over me, before he takes a long look at Laura, the other receptionist, and gives her a broad smile. Then he turns to me.

  “What was that about?”

  I lower the telephone into the cradle. I was hoping if it looked like I was on a call with a patient he’d leave me alone.

  “My new neighbor caught my daughter playing hooky, I guess.”

  “New neighbor? Was that the jackass with the Chevy?”

  I can feel my cheeks heat.

  “He’s not—”

  I stop myself, blinking. Why am I springing to Quentin’s defense? He is a jackass.

  “Does he bother you?”

  Well…

  I have to think about that for a second. He really did me a favor bringing Karen to see me and taking her to school. In retrospect, I can barely believe I trusted him to do that, but I was in a bind. What was I going to do, have her ride the bus from the dentist’s office and trust she’d make it there? I should have given Quentin my phone number to make sure that she made it. God, what was I thinking?

  I look at Burt. He shifts a little closer, leaning his skinny ass on the counter, giving me that look. He’s looking for an in, or something. I’m not giving him one.

  “It’s fine. He’s a little rough around the edges but he did me a favor picking her up.”

  “He shouldn’t have brought her here. I don’t need one of my employees making a family scene in front of the patients.”

  “Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. I’ll talk to Karen.”

  “Maybe she needs more of a man’s influence in her life,” Burt says smoothly.

  His hand slides along the counter toward mine. Thankfully another patient walks up to the window. Burt shrugs and walks off, eyeing me. I can see his reflection in the window as I push it open to greet the patient and sign them in.

  God, I hate that man.

  Thankfully I make it through the rest of my shift without Burt coming to chat me up again. The next time I see him, it’s as we’re getting ready to close up shop. Laura flounces to her feet and grabs his arm with a coquettish smile and I decide it’d be a good idea to slink away before he can spot me.

  I need to get home. I have a class tonight.

  Grabbing my things, I quickly head outside. Burt and Laura follow, Laura giggling her empty little head off as Burt hits the remote for his new Benz and it beep-meeps and the engine starts up. He would have a remote start.

  “Sure you don’t want a ride?” Burt calls at me, giving me that full-body once-over he always does when he thinks he’s being sexy.

  “I’m fine, I don’t need—”

  The thing about Quentin’s car is that it announces itself. When he comes down the block I can feel the exhaust note in my shoes. It rumbles into the parking lot with Quentin at the wheel, leaning through the window. He pulls up behind Burt, boxing him in, and looks at me.

  “Hey. Karen said you could use a ride.”

  “I don’t, I take the—”

  “You’re not taking the bus. Get in the car, or Leisure Suit Larry is going to be blocked in until you do.”

  Burt opens his mouth to say something then closes his mouth as Laura giggles.

  Oh come on, is this really necessary?

  “Get in,” Quentin says, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a hint of a grin on his face.

  I pull at the strap on my tote bag, frown, and stalk around to the other side to drop into the car.

  As soon as I close my door, Quentin throws it in reverse and swerves out of the parking lot and back into the road. He leans back in his seat and drapes one arm over the windowsill, resting the other wrist on the wheel.

  “You’re going to get me fired,” I say coldly.

  “Nah.”

  “Burt doesn’t like people making fun of him.”

  “Burt’s a fucking asshole pervert,” Quentin says cheerfully. “Karen said you have a class tonight. You want to go straight there, or should I drop you off at home?”

  “What? No, I need to go home and change first.”

  “Why?” he says, and flicks the hem of my sleeve. “Weird lime green is your color.”

  I pull away from him but, God, I’m blushing like a fourteen-year-old. I cross my arms.

  “I can’t go to class like this. I have to dress professionally.”

  “Nurse is a profession.”

  I sigh and roll my eyes. “First, I’m not a nurse, I’m a receptionist. Second, professionally means business casual.”

  “What kind of class is it?”

&nb
sp; “I’m trying to finish my bachelor’s degree. I was planning to go to law school before—” I cut myself off.

  Not his business.

  “Before what?”

  “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

  He snorts. “Suit yourself.”

  I glance over at him, and the glance turns into a stare. I can see the outline of a bigger bandage on his thigh along with the ones on his arm and one on his chest.

  “What happened to you?”

  He blinks at me. “Huh?”

  “Your arms and your leg. You’re all bandaged up.”

  “I cut myself shaving.”

  I give him a hard look but he doesn’t relent, though when he scratches his chin, I think he might be hiding a grin.

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  He shrugs.

  I shrug back and turn away from him, sighing as I stare out the window.

  “How long have you been having problems with the boss?”

  I stare at my own reflection then look past it to his. He’s not looking at me, exactly, but he keeps glancing at my shoulder. I shift in the seat and sigh.

  “He’s always been like that. He’ll fire me eventually if I don’t sleep with him.”

  Quentin’s hand grips the wheel until it creaks.

  “Then why are you working there?”

  “I need a job and that was the only one that I could find. After Russel—”

  I stop myself.

  “Who’s Russel?”

  “Ex-husband.”

  “Ah.”

  “It’s his house,” I say bitterly. “He fights me tooth and nail on alimony and child support, and with the two of them together it doesn’t cover the mortgage. If I don’t keep Burt appeased—”

  “Burt?”

  “The dentist.”

  “Right.”

  “If I don’t keep Burt appeased, I’m out of a job. I’ll lose the house. If I lose the house, Russel will get custody of the kids.”

  “Russel. He’s Karen’s dad?”

  “Yeah. Karen and Kelly, my youngest. She’s ten.”

  “She didn’t mention a sister.”

  I clear my throat. “My daughter was in your house?”

  “Yard, yeah. Not really ‘in.’ She was poking around the back windows.”