Noble Prince (Twisted Royals, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

  At least the intruder was gone.

  The whole house had been searched, first by the cops, then Owen and Ian, plus the rest of their group. She knew they wouldn’t leave a cushion unturned if they thought that man was still there. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

  Why hadn’t she told Ian yes when he asked if she wanted to stay at his sister’s place?

  Right, because what about the window? She couldn’t just leave her house open like that. No matter that the doors were locked, the window was still busted out.

  God, what a disaster.

  She scrubbed a hand across her face, wincing when she pressed at the bruise too hard.

  It was late.

  Kierra was still awake.

  They both needed to be up earlier than usual tomorrow, on the off-chance Dad would call from whatever remote corner of the globe he was at now. Quinn wouldn’t hear the end of it if they missed even one attempt at making the connection. How was she going to tell him about this? Did she? Dad wouldn’t care. He wasn’t coming back just because they were scared. It wouldn’t make any difference what she told him.

  Quinn braced her hands against the front door.

  What did she need to do right now? This instant?

  It was easier to focus on the immediate needs than anything else.

  There was something she should be doing, but she couldn’t think of it. Her brain was scrambled. She was wrung dry. Exhausted. And that was before whatever had happened tonight.

  He wanted the key.

  She’d told the cops she didn’t know what the intruder was there for. She hadn’t mentioned the key. Even as she said it, she’d felt Owen’s gaze on her. He’d heard, and he wasn’t outing her.

  She didn’t know the guy had wanted that key.

  He could have meant another key, for all she knew.

  Besides, if he was after that key, it would do no one any good. None at all. A person would need all three.

  Damn Owen.

  And thank god for him, too.

  Quinn would have to make amends. Say something. He’d come without hesitation. Kierra called the man whenever she got scared, this was just the first time there was reason to. Quinn hated to admit it, even to herself, but tonight she was so very grateful to the obnoxious detective. A few more minutes, and who knew what that man might have done?

  She swallowed and leaned against the door, the strength in her arms going out. She could feel bits of herself scattering, the trembling deep in her core.

  She was going to cry.

  She hated crying.

  Quinn sucked down a deep breath.

  Owen, for all the frustration he caused her, had come through for them. Quinn owed him a thank you. Or something.

  What if Kierra was right?

  What if someone had been watching them?

  What if this was just the beginning?

  Quinn took the three steps to the old, worn-out sofa and sank down. She was pretty sure that was one of Kierra’s action figures digging into her butt, but she didn’t care.

  Why would someone be watching them? What was in the safety deposit box that could possibly be of value anymore? That was the only key Quinn had that went to something of value. Even her car wasn’t worth much.

  She swallowed and pressed her hand to her chest.

  She didn’t want to think too much, but she had to. Because the safety of her sister might be at stake.

  They had nothing. Or next to nothing, these days. There wasn’t anything to steal in the house that couldn’t be gotten at a thrift store or garage sale already, which was in part by design and part necessity. Which left...knowledge. The single most dangerous weapon of all. If someone got all three keys, there could still be a thing or two worth the effort in the box. It was a long shot to think that there was something in those journals that they hadn’t already made or tried to make.

  If it wasn’t the box and mom’s journals, then it had to be Dad.

  The journals, while sentimental and brilliant, were no longer cutting edge. They’d wrung the pages dry of all but a few designs.

  It had to be Dad. Right?

  Nothing else made sense. Mom’s information, her research, no one would know about that anyway. They’d kept the journals a company secret since her death. Besides, anything of true value had been confiscated by the DoD long ago.

  That meant it couldn’t be the safety deposit box key.

  This was Dad’s mess. Again.

  He was the reason someone had broken in here and terrorized them. Because he was into something big and bad.

  Quinn wasn’t allowed to know what he did, only that he was a Department of Defense contractor. Highly dangerous and lucrative enough to keep them all afloat, but only if she and Kierra were willing to go it alone. That was how Quinn wound up assuming the role of Mom at the age of twenty.

  How was she going to do this?

  She buried her face in her hands.

  She was twenty-six. Managing a sinking research-and-development company. Playing house to a kid sister ten times more brilliant than she was. How could she possibly keep doing this?

  Days like today, Quinn wanted her dad back. But he wasn’t coming home. He wouldn’t be coming through the front door to save the day and tell her it would be okay.

  That was Quinn’s job now, so she had to stop throwing this pity party and get on with it.

  She’d put Kierra to bed and then clean up the bathroom.

  What the hell was she going to do about the window?

  Quinn groaned and rubbed her face, this time avoiding the bruise that seemed to be spreading across her cheek. It was the middle of the night. No one could come fix it.

  A metallic thump resonated through the house. She could feel it in the floor boards.

  What the hell?

  Quinn pushed to her feet and strode down the hall.

  The sound grew louder.

  A...hammer?

  She peered into the bathroom.

  Instead of the broken-out window, a rectangle of plywood now blocked their rather epic view of the neighbor’s hydrangeas, a constant reminder that Quinn had no green thumbs.

  “Who...?” She couldn’t think of a single person besides Ian who’d do this for them, and Ian wasn’t in any shape to be helping anyone right now. “Kierra?”

  “She’s outside.” The voice was muted by the wall and plywood between them, but there was no doubt who it was out there.

  “Oh...no,” Quinn groaned.

  Not him.

  Not Owen.

  That damn detective.

  That damn, sweet, interfering man.

  Quinn closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

  Owen was a good guy. He meant well. And every so often, Quinn could feel him getting under her skin, making her smile. That was what was dangerous. Quinn couldn’t like Owen. She didn’t have time for a distraction in her life, not when she was one misstep away from ruination.

  Their own father couldn’t stick around. Why would a detective with a hero complex?

  Quinn stared at the light overhead, willing the tears to go away.

  Part of her wanted to bawl and let him do it. Fix things. Handle the whole situation, because she didn’t know what to do. But she couldn’t. This was her house. Kierra was her sister. And this was her mess. She could handle this. Just like every other time Kierra had called Owen in to come over and check for monsters under her bed.

  This had to stop. Now. Before he crushed Kierra’s precious little heart. If Quinn did one thing right in this world, she wanted to protect Kierra from the pain she’d felt. Broken dreams and hearts were never the same. They never healed right. There were always pieces missing, and after a while, there were so many parts gone that there wasn’t anything left to put back together.

  Quinn grabbed the flashlight from the hall closet. The little pink princess one of Kierra’s was gone.

  Gee, wonder where that was?

  It was time to
put on her bitch panties and set some ground rules. For Kierra’s sake, and Quinn’s heart. She couldn’t let herself like Owen, no matter what he did or how much they might need help. She couldn’t fool herself into believing Owen would stick around.

  Quinn marched out through the back door and around to the side of the house.

  Sure enough, Kierra had her pint-sized flashlight pointed at the side of the house. Owen braced one hand against the wooden board and tapped the hammer against the nail with the other.

  Christ, this was a disaster.

  “Sh, the neighbors are going to be pissed.” Quinn peered over her shoulder. The relationship with the people on the street was tenuous at best. Their yard was never clean enough, the paint on the house was chipped, their lack of attention to curb appeal was bringing down the neighborhood—Quinn had heard it all.

  “I already talked to them. That’s where I got the plywood.”

  Quinn gaped at Owen’s back.

  He’d spoken to her neighbors?

  And they hadn’t chewed him out for...breathing oxygen?

  Quinn stood there, staring at Owen’s shoulders, his bulging arms, the glint of the light off the head of the hammer.

  Was he serious?

  He had to be. That plywood hadn’t come from her house.

  Quinn bit her lip.

  Was this happening?

  For once, could one problem be solved without creating two more?

  It was just boarding up a window, but it was so much more. It was another hour of sleep. A problem that could wait to be resolved. A confrontation she wouldn’t have to have today.

  Because of Owen.

  She swallowed and wrestled with this strange sensation to hug him.

  His tendency to take over a situation was coming in handy for once.

  “Sh—crap,” Owen muttered.

  The plywood slid a bit.

  “Here, let me hold that.” Quinn rushed forward. She might not like Owen’s barging into her life to save the day, but right now, she was grateful she didn’t have to figure it out on her own.

  “Thanks.” Owen repositioned the board. “Just press here. I’ll get this corner, then that one, then the top. Should hold until tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to do this, you know?” Quinn said quietly while Owen was still close.

  He glanced at her, those piercing blue eyes slicing into her soul.

  She didn’t give him enough credit. Despite his too-helpful intentions, he was a good guy. And therein lay the danger. He deserved to be trusted, but that didn’t mean he’d stay around. She couldn’t figure out how to trust him without putting herself on the line. She’d never learned an in-between.

  “It’s fine,” he said just as softly.

  Owen hammered in the first nail, they traded positions and he drove home the second. He positioned the ladder—she didn’t even want to know where he’d gotten that from—and got the top of the board secured.

  She’d need to take off work to get the window fixed. Not getting it done wasn’t an option. Did she have money for that? Was staying at the house a safe idea? Chloe didn’t have room for them anymore, not with Ian, Taylor and Stacey living there now. Besides, Taylor was pregnant. They needed two more people under that roof like they needed another puppy.

  Mamaw and Papaw had been after them to visit. Maybe Quinn could send Kierra there for a little while. They had the internet now, so it wasn’t like Kierra’s lessons would be interrupted. One of the things the high-priced school offered was the ability to remote in for school, via a camera system. If she breathed word of it to their grandparents, the ticket would be bought and the car ordered.

  “Quinn? Did you hear me?”

  Owen’s face filled Quinn’s vision. She could smell the subtle scent of man, sweat, hops and the light cologne he favored. He’d arrived with the cavalry. Literally.

  “Hey.” He squeezed her arm. “Let’s get Kierra inside, first, and then you can fall apart, okay?”

  Quinn pulled away from him.

  She wasn’t going to fall apart. She never fell apart. She wouldn’t start now.

  “I’m sorry for ruining your evening,” she said without a single waver to her voice.

  “I’m glad we got here in time.” He smiled.

  Did he even realize what he was doing? Or was it intentional? He was a natural good cop, inspiring people to trust him. Like him. It would be all too easy to fall for a man like that, which was why Quinn resisted. She wasn’t foolish enough to think they were the only female friends of his who needed help. She’d met his type before. They meant well, but they left a trail of broken hearts.

  “Come on, Kierra.” Owen held out his hand to her little sister.

  Together, the two practically skipped around the house to the back door. Quinn followed in their wake, feeling old and tired by comparison.

  She wasn’t certain she had the money for fixing the window and the next round of bills. She’d already used most of Dad’s money for the new roof that they had to have. There just wasn’t much left and it wasn’t like she brought in enough to cover it all.

  Quinn should never have given herself the pay cut at work. It wasn’t like she’d made that much to begin with, but that little decrease to her own salary had meant the difference between being able to pay the employees and not. She couldn’t lose her mother’s company, too. If scraping by meant saving it, Quinn would figure out how to make things work.

  What was she going to do tomorrow?

  How was this all going to get fixed?

  She locked the back door and jammed the door stop under it. Dad had shown her that trick, a low-tech way to stop, or at least slow someone down, coming through a door. The only problem was, their would-be-burglar had come through the windows instead.

  “There we go,” Owen said. “Now, step over it and brush your teeth, while I get the glass cleaned up.”

  Quinn peered down the darkened hall. Owen stood there in just his white undershirt and jeans, a broom in one hand, dustpan in the other.

  What was he doing here?

  He’d already saved them.

  Shouldn’t he be gone already?

  Couldn’t he leave so she could cry herself to sleep in peace?

  “I can do that.” Quinn plodded toward him.

  “I’ve got this. You should sit, put some ice on that cheek. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  On a normal night, when there weren’t monsters to worry about, she’d have flipped him the bird and pushed him out the door. He was too comfortable in their house as it was. But tonight...

  They’d needed Owen. They might still need him. And therein lie Quinn’s problem. She and her little sister had to be self-sufficient.

  “I don’t want to go in the bathroom.” Kierra’s thin, small voice nearly broke Quinn’s heart.

  She’d told Kierra to go brush her teeth. That’s when it’d started.

  Quinn squeezed her eyes shut.

  She’d snapped at Kierra, too exasperated and too tired to listen. Then the window had broken and there’d been a man there. It’d happened so fast.

  “I’m right here, Kierra.” Owen braced one hand on the bathroom door and leveled that hero’s smile at the little girl. “I won’t let anything happen to you, promise.”

  She was grateful he’d scared off whoever was coming through the bathroom window, because she’d seen her life flashing before her eyes in those moments. But he wouldn’t always be there to protect them.

  Quinn left Owen watching over Kierra’s nightly routine. Maybe he’d calm her down better than Quinn could. It seemed that whenever he came over, Kierra slept better anyway, which was saying something. Dad hounded Quinn about giving Kierra something to make her sleep, but Quinn didn’t like the idea of pumping an eight year old full of sedatives. What would it do to her still-developing mind and body?

  One thing at a time.

  First, tonight. Then tomorrow. She’d take it one day at a time.

  Quinn cou
ldn’t handle a mountain bearing down on her. She had to pick and choose.

  She’d need a list, and then she’d tackle what she could and work away at the rest when she could. As time and money allowed.

  That’s what Mom had taught her. A problem was always fixable. Solutions were out there. She just had to look at it from the right angle. Of course, she’d been talking about her work, the inventions she created, not domestic nightmares.

  God, Quinn missed Mom.

  One minute she’d been there, coaching Quinn through her first round of core classes. They’d had plans for her to work on a project that summer, lay the groundwork for her career, and then Mom had been gone. Her light snuffed out, and with it, Quinn’s future. Everything she’d dreamt about. But that didn’t mean it was the end to Kierra’s dreams. Quinn’s might be over, but she could still fight for what Kierra wanted. Ensure she had a better future.

  Quinn ducked into the kitchen and braced her hand against the counter.

  Life wasn’t fair.

  It didn’t stop Quinn from sobbing into a dishtowel so neither Owen or Kierra would hear her.

  Mom would know what to do. She’d always known how to handle things. From Dad to finances to—everything. Mom had that touch. She could work magic. And she’d done it with that silly, grimacing smile that Quinn had learned from her.

  You can do anything with a smile, even a bad one. That’s what Mom used to say.

  Quinn missed her so much.

  Owen backed out of Kierra’s room, holding his breath.

  Poor thing was exhausted. Hopefully her dreams weren’t too troubled. If they were, he’d be here to chase the monsters away. But first, he had to win Quinn over to the idea.

  He pulled the bedroom door mostly shut and tiptoed down the hall to the living room.

  Quinn sat at the dining table piled high with text books, a pad of paper and a dishtowel in front of her. Her dark eyes were downturned, but he’d made a study of the varying browns, golds and greens in their depths. He’d glimpsed pictures of her Indian mother, and could see the likeness between the two. But that mouth? The jaw line? She got that from her military father, no doubt about it. Quinn was a beautiful blend of two worlds.