She stepped into the shower while Chloe and Taylor made themselves comfortable perched on the vanity.
“So—things with Owen going well?” Chloe asked.
Quinn stood under the spray, the smell of smoke slowly abating.
She’d lain in the tub at Owen’s, losing consciousness, and her only thoughts had been about him. What losing him would do to her. How he mattered to her. After Kierra, he was the one person she needed. More than Chloe, and she was her best friend. How had that happened? And so fast?
“Would it be weird to fall in love with him? Now? After all of this?” Her voice echoed off the walls. Droplets of water dripped from her lashes.
“Intense situations breed intense feelings,” Taylor said. “In time, I would have warmed up to Ian, but it would have been an uphill battle. Instead, given what we went through, it forced us to a place where...it was easier to accept our feelings. It’s also why I keep telling him no when he asks me to marry him.”
“How many times is it now?” Chloe asked.
“Three.” Taylor chuckled. “I mean, I can’t imagine not saying yes, but what if he changes his mind after the baby is born? What if I’m not what he really wants? We’ve been together for—what? Six months? That’s not a lot of time. We know each other, but...I want to make sure he’s sure.”
“You clearly don’t know my brother well enough, yet, if you think he changes his mind about somethin’ once he’s decided that’s how it is.” Chloe laughed. “I’m not a good judge of romance or love. I defer to Taylor on that, even if I think she’s refusin’ to accept the inevitable. She’s stuck with my family.”
If Quinn loved him, if that’s what these funny feelings were, then it was time for drastic actions. There was only one way to save Owen—and possibly herself. She had to do it alone, though. Owen would never allow her to pull a stunt like this, but if it meant they both got to walk away from this, she’d do it.
Owen tried not to stare at the bathroom door. Quinn was okay. Just because he couldn’t see her didn’t mean everything wasn’t fine. It was.
“Hey, Zach.” Blake waved at the last to arrive.
“What the hell is going on here?” Zach hefted his laptop case under his arm and eyed the full room.
“Can you do an advanced search of local arrest records?” Owen asked.
All arrest records were public knowledge, but without the advanced ability to search other parameters, they were fucked. An average person couldn’t sort by what officer had filed the reports or when.
“Why?” Zach slid his laptop onto the table.
Owen had thought this through, from beginning to end. He’d never felt...right about what Zach told them. The guy set off Owen’s something’s off alarms, but not in a bad way. More in a, your friends are planning a surprise party for you, sort of way. Owen’s gut feelings about people and situations had saved his neck more than a few times. Right now, he was going out on a limb and making assumptions based on his instinct.
“Because whoever is after Quinn—and me—is someone I arrested,” Owen said.
“Which means it might be from the last year.” Blake perched on the back of the sectional, his new blade runner leg swinging back and forth. “That’s a narrow pool of people.”
“I’m not so sure. Otherwise, why hasn’t Jordan run across this guy? I think I must have done something to make him focus on me.” Owen stared at the wooden floors.
“Who have you killed?” Duke asked.
The room grew quiet.
Half the people there were either law enforcement or had served in the military. There was blood on their hands.
“Three,” Blake answered.
Owen swallowed.
Some people remembered those deaths with crystal clarity. For him, they were a blur. Time had corrupted those memories, easing the guilt. Each and every one had been a last resort situation. The suspects had had guns, they’d been by-the-book sort of calls. To save bystanders and law enforcement on scene, he’d taken those shots. Every life was precious. That was why he was a cop. To stop bad things from happening, but he wasn’t all powerful.
“Let me get set up, then we can look up the arrest records.” Zach took the last remaining chair at the table next to Jaxon and opened his laptop.
“What about the virus? Is your computer okay?” Owen didn’t want to alert whoever had hired the guy that they were on to them.
“Yeah, I cleaned that up.” Zach typed away. “Okay, so I’m just searching for Owen, right?”
“Let’s start with me.” Owen slid his hands into his pockets, bracing himself for the truth.
“Give me a moment...” Zach tapped at the keys, his gaze intent on the screen. “Okay, any of these three ring a bell?”
He turned the laptop to face the room. Three mug shots filled the screen. The better to obscure how Zach was finding out all this stuff? That’s what Owen would do in his shoes.
Owen closed his eyes for a moment, bringing up the mental image of the man who’d burned his house down. He’d wanted Owen to see his face. That was important. Now, would he see a version of it staring back at him in those pictures?
He opened his eyes.
Three faces stared back.
“Fuck...”
Owen swallowed.
His fingers tingled.
A rock plopped down in the pit of his stomach.
It was obvious.
He hadn’t seen the man’s face. Too much had gone on for him to process the body. That’d been up to IA. That night was still one of the worst of his night.
“What?” Blake frowned at him.
“It’s him. The guy I shot the night of your accident.” Owen could hardly believe it.
“Is that the driver? The one who ran from the scene?” Blake took several steps forward.
They’d been working a homicide. Owen and Blake were following up on a lead, which was how they’d found the hostage and two men holding the victim. It was still mostly a blur, but they’d pursued the two men. No shooting, just following. Granted, the perps hadn’t hesitated to fire on Owen and Blake, but they couldn’t return fire. Not with the hostage. It’d been too risky. Backup was on its way. Owen and Blake had only needed to keep eyes on the suspects until more officers were on scene.
The two suspects had split, one with the hostage. That was the one Owen and Blake had followed. The other had disappeared while they were out of line of sight. They’d thought this was their chance to get the hostage. They’d closed in. The perp dragged the hostage across a street, heading into a crowded park, gun clearly visible.
It was odd, the things that were still crystal clear.
The moment the perp had set his course for the park, both Blake and Owen lifted their guns. It was no longer a tail operation, they had to take this guy down before he walked into that park and shot innocent bystanders.
Owen had taken the shot. He’d had a clear line of sight.
It was a judgment call he still believed to be right.
He’d killed the suspect in one shot. Instantaneous, the ME had said. No pain. Just—gone.
The hostage had stood there, in the middle of the road, staring at them with wide eyes when he was hit by the car. Owen had always wondered if that car was driven by the second, fleeing suspect.
He was pretty damn sure it was.
“What do we know about him?” Owen’s voice was cold, detached.
He’d brought this horror down on Quinn’s shoulders.
“Hansel Garris. Parents were probably big Grimm storyteller fans, judging by their names. His sheet’s a mile long. He and his brother ran a lucrative ransoming business until, well you know. There’s not much on him since his brother died, just some parking tickets here and there. Honestly, if he’s your hit man, that sort of stuff isn’t going to be on his record if he’s worth his salt. The only reason he was identified in the ransom racket is because they actually returned their victims if payment was received.”
“And in this
case, Quinn and me alive is the last thing the people paying him want.” Owen scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t think. His mind was stuck on a loop.
“Okay, how would someone hire a hit man like Hansel? God, I can’t believe I’m saying the name Hansel.” Blake shook his head.
“Darknet, an asset that’s been used before, someone knows someone else, sometimes you can even post a damn Craigslist advert,” Zach answered without hesitation.
“The virus on Quinn’s laptop. You said that’s sophisticated?”
“Ish.” Zach bobbed his head and squinted out of one eye.
“We can probably strike Craigslist off that list then. If it’s an organized thing, then they likely have people or know people.” Owen continued to stare at the floor.
How had this happened?
The blows just kept coming.
He couldn’t recover from one without another one landing a hit.
When did it stop?
“Based on the virus, I’d say it’s either an asset or someone an enterprising individual found on the dark net.” Zach pushed back from the table and stroked his chin. The bit of facial hair was new.
“What can we do to help?” Duke asked.
“I...don’t even know,” Owen said slowly.
“Why are they after Quinn? Did we ever figure that out?” Blake asked.
“Best guess, there’s a key and some journals of her mother’s.” Owen shrugged. “It could be connected to her battery project, but that’s speculation.”
“I’ll let Big John know. He’s rented out the apartment over the garage while his roommates find them another place to live.” Duke rolled his eyes. “If anything happens there, he’ll know.”
Big John worked with an animal rescue, and from what Owen had heard, they’d run the operation out of their four bedroom rental for a while until they were properly established. From the way it sounded, John and his roommates had housed a few too many animals under their roof while vetting and placing them in homes.
“How safe are we here?” Owen glanced across the apartment to Erik.
“I’ve got a security system. Fenced and gated now. The apartment has its own entry. Bars on the windows. It’s not Fort Knox, but it’ll do.” Erik shrugged.
“How the hell do you even have this stuff? What network is this?” Blake leaned over Zach’s shoulder.
“Answers are not always your friend.” Zach closed the laptop.
“We can take the identity to our people,” Ian said and gestured at the other guys who worked for Aegis Group. “We might have some connections.”
“I can dig more into any darknet ties, but chances are, without something more concrete to go on, I won’t have a lot of luck,” Zach said.
“The rest of us should let you and Quinn get some rest.” Erik opened the door. “Beer’s on the house downstairs for the next hour. Come on, guys. Owen? You need anything let us know.”
Owen glanced toward the bathroom door. All he needed was Quinn, but first he had to figure out how to keep her alive.
She stepped into the storage unit, but went no farther than the open doorway.
Hansel reclined on a cot. A camp light cast a weak halo of illumination, enough to see the nasty red burns and melted flesh on the man’s torso.
“You fucked it up, didn’t you?” She sighed and rest her hands on the top of the cane. It was becoming more necessary to use it for more than just putting down those who failed her.
“It was a setback. No big deal. What the hell are you doing here?” He cast her a grumpy glare. He had to be hurting, by the looks of the burns.
“I’m paying you, therefore I keep tabs on you.” She answered his unasked question–How did you find me?
“I’ll get the job done,” he snapped.
“How?”
“I’ll do it.”
“You have yet to establish that you can take orders or deliver. I fail to see how I could possibly trust you.” She eyed Hansel’s arms. How much of him was burned?
It could be in her best interest to dispose of the man and take care of Quinn—and now her little boy toy—on her own. She was too old to take matters into her own hands like this, but if it meant she got the lung treatments she desperately needed, she’d do it. It was her life or theirs. They weren’t all walking away from this.
Hansel pushed to his feet, towering over her.
“I’ll do the damn job,” he roared at her.
She gripped the handle with both hands and flinched, but didn’t take a step back.
“See that you do,” she said.
She took two steps back and one to her right.
Hansel wasn’t yet a lame horse, but he was close. She’d have to be careful with him. He knew enough to be dangerous to her, and by extension, her employer, and that had to be dealt with. But first, Quinn. There wasn’t much time left to head off that problem.
18.
Quinn laid her head on Owen’s shoulder and curled her legs under her.
He hadn’t said so much as five words strung together since the guys had left, and she didn’t know if talking was what they needed.
They had a no-win situation on their hands that neither of them were responsible for.
If they found the guy who’d attacked her, who wanted to go after them both, then they were left blind. The people paying him could just hire someone else, an unknown, and they’d be right back at square one. Trading the enemy they knew for one they didn’t wasn’t a real solution.
“What do we need to do to prepare for the conference?” Owen asked.
“Tomorrow I’ll go in the office, see what kind of disaster state everyone’s projects are in and spend the day packing up what I can—our booths and whatnot. Depending on what state they’re in, I’ll load up and drive it all down day after tomorrow or the next day. That’ll put us there as soon as they open the doors for set-up. I end up doing most of it by myself, which is why I want all the time I can get.”
“So, three days? When are you going to finish yours?”
“Mine’s almost done. It’s mostly cosmetic at this point. I’ve made so many of these batteries, I can do it in my sleep now.”
“What can I do to make it happen for you?” He placed his hand on her thigh, the warmth seeping through her pajama pants.
“You’re doing enough.” Besides, she wasn’t certain the risk was worth the reward at this point.
Everything relied on the email she’d sent earlier when no one was looking.
If she got a reply, it would dictate her future. Which meant she needed to take advantage of her present and every moment she had.
“I don’t want to talk about our problems right now.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and kissed him.
Owen grasped her by the knees, pulling her across his lap. His kiss wasn’t as gentle. There was a primal need underlying the heat of him that she understood. Because she’d been there yesterday. She’d needed him, to feel alive, in control. And tonight, he needed that same thing.
They could have lost each other tonight.
He picked her up without so much as a grunt of effort. She clung to his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist as he stood. His lips continued to move against hers, his tongue teasing her.
They made it half a dozen steps or so, almost to the bedroom door.
Owen pressed her back against the wall and grasped her hips. He moved her, rubbing his pelvis against hers. She could feel him, hard under his clothes.
“Owen,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I’m sorry.” He eased his grasp and she slid down a few inches. “I’m sorry—I know—this isn’t the time.”
She unwrapped one leg from around his waist, still clutching him close.
He glanced away from her.
It was her turn to cup his cheek, bring his face back to hers. She leaned in and kissed him, keeping the contact sweet. Barely there.
She loved this man, even if he did infuriate her at times.
She needed him to wreck her life. To help her put it back to rights. And right now, he needed her.
“It’s always the time.” She chuckled.
Quinn grasped his belt and pulled it lose, releasing the catch.
He didn’t let go of her, but he also didn’t move to help her, and that was fine.
For once, she’d like for him to let her do the work.
She tabbed his jeans open. Gravity worked in her favor and his pants sagged several inches, allowing for his erection to strain at the front of his boxers.
Quinn slid her hand inside his underwear, peering up at his face. His cheeks were sunk in, those baby blues of his so sharp and focused on her hand. She grasped his cock the same way he’d showed her a few nights ago, the way he liked to be touched. She hadn’t forgotten.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek, his neck.
“Take your shirt off?” She liked looking at him. Seeing him.
Owen pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it. He had that same intensely focused look on his face. What would she have to do to get a smile from him?
Quinn kissed his chest and peered down at his cock in her hand. The way the skin moved with each stroke, how soft he was and way he felt in her palm were, they were all Owen. Parts of him she cherished. Loved.
She sank to her knees to the tune of Owen’s sharp intake of breath. She wasn’t precisely experienced at this, but if she’d learned anything by being with Owen, it was that they made it work.
She studied his cock for a moment, the flushed head, the thick, pulsing vein against her palm.
She loved all of him.
Quinn leaned forward and kissed the mushroom cap.
Owen’s fingers stroked her cheek before finding purchase in her hair.
Did he know she wasn’t entirely sure what came next?
It didn’t matter.
He applied the slightest pressure to the back of her head. She parted her lips and tasted his skin. The blood rushing past her ears drowned out whatever he said. He rubbed her tongue against him, sliding him deeper. He pulled back until her lips barely contained him.
She peered up at him and froze.
The look of want on his face. No one had ever looked at her like that before.
Noble Prince (Twisted Royals, #4) Page 23