Noble Prince (Twisted Royals, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

He entered Trinity Hall through the back entrance now reserved for staff and their circle of friends.

  “Hey, man.” Zach saluted him with his cup of ice.

  “Hey.” Owen glanced around. The girls were all gone, as were many of the guys. “Have you seen Quinn?”

  “No. She’s not upstairs with you?” Zach sat up straight, reached into his bag and pulled out his laptop.

  “No...” The blood drained out of his limbs. Owen pulled his phone out. “I’m calling her.”

  He pressed the phone to his ear, listening to it ring—and go to voicemail. Was it dead? Or had she ignored his call? Why would she leave without her phone being the least bit charged? And if it was charged, why was she ignoring the call?

  “She’s not answering.”

  “Hold that thought. Before you think anything else, let’s just check,” Zach said.

  “What’s wrong?” Blake leaned forward, peering past Duke and Levi.

  “Quinn’s gone.” Owen gripped the back of Zach’s chair. He couldn’t focus on the screen or anything at all.

  “Got her,” Zach said. “Signal’s moving pretty fast. That’s either a car, a bus, maybe a taxi?”

  “Where would she be going?” Owen asked.

  “Erik. Security feeds?” Duke waved the other guy out from behind the bar. “Quinn might not have left of her own free will.”

  “This way.” Erik waved them behind the bar, through a set of swinging, double doors.

  Owen and Duke hoofed it, following Erik into the back. He was already scrolling back on a camera pointed at the doors at the rear of the building.

  “There!” Owen leaned past, jabbing a finger at the screen. “She left. By herself. Why?”

  Erik scrolled to the moment she opened the door and they all watched her leave the building by herself.

  “Don’t know, man. Want me to call the cops?” Erik asked.

  “And what? Tell them a girl walked out under her own free will to do—what? Take a walk?” Owen shook his head. As much as he wanted to get a BOLO out for her or her car, there wasn’t enough reason.

  Why would she leave?

  Was she scared?

  Was it that he’d told her he loved her?

  She’d said it back. Was it still too soon?

  Zach pushed through the storage room doors, laptop in hand.

  “She’s stopped. You’re going to want to see this.” He turned the screen to face them.

  Both Owen and Duke crossed to peer at the screen.

  “That’s The Dragon.” Duke frowned. “What’s she doing at the shop?”

  “The battery.” Owen’s blood went cold. “The battery is there. Someone must have gotten to her. I have to get there.”

  “I’ll call John, tell him to look out for her.” Duke pulled out his phone.

  “I’m coming with you,” Erik said.

  “So am I.” Zach closed the laptop.

  Owen pushed out through the doors and hooked a right, down the hall and into the lot. Within moments, the remaining guys in the bar were in the lot.

  He stared at the cars.

  His wasn’t there.

  The fire truck had blocked it in.

  “Come on. I’ve got this.” Blake slapped Owen’s shoulder and shoved him at his car. “We’ll find her.”

  Quinn stared at the chain-link fence.

  Fuck.

  She hadn’t given a single thought to how difficult it might be to get inside the garage. Duke had given her the key and alarm code to get into the small bay, but no one had mentioned the fence. She hadn’t even thought about anyone pulling the gate closed or locking it.

  Now she was really regretting the choice of flip-flops.

  How to get inside before the guy showed up?

  Climbing wasn’t the best option. She didn’t see herself scaling the fence without significant personal injury. Could she slide in between the gates? Yeah, right. She’d enjoyed Owen’s cooking way too much for that sort of feat.

  She got out of the car and slung the messenger bag across her shoulders.

  The gate would be the most reinforced spot. It stood to reason that this point of entry would be most obvious. So, she had to think creatively. And fast.

  It only took twenty minutes to get to the garage and she’d told the guy where to meet her halfway here. He could show up at any moment, or hell, he could already be here.

  She should have waited until she was inside to tell him where she was, but they were up against the clock. Owen had already called her twice, and she’d ignored both. How long until he figured out where she was?

  What was she going to tell him when this was over?

  The truth.

  She’d given up this dream for them. He wouldn’t like it, but it was that or death.

  Quinn circled to the back alley.

  An old, gnarled tree had grown right up against the property line. It appeared that the new fence had been built to circumvent the tree. At least until a large limb fell. If she had to guess, it’d happened recently.

  She pushed the limb. It didn’t budge. The thing was as big around as she was, and probably twice her weight what with the length and offshoots taken into consideration.

  This was about the only chance she was getting.

  Quinn grasped a low hanging branch still attached to the main tree, planted her foot in the Y of the broken branch and hoisted herself up. Her flip-flop slid before finding purchase against the gnarled wood. She grabbed another branch farther up the downed limb and used that to help pull herself up and along the path.

  The limb quivered and shook under her, but it was braced too firmly between the trunk and a the fence support.

  She was sweating and contemplating losing her sandals entirely by the time she reached the top of the fence. The chain link groaned under her weight, but held. Her knees were another story. Her thighs screamed, her calves ached. She wasn’t in any sort of shape to do this. If she survived, she’d do something about her footwear and exercise.

  Quinn sat on the intersection of the trunk and fence, staring at the ground.

  Now, how to get down?

  Maybe if she could hang from the fence, she could sort of drop?

  It wasn’t going to be a fun landing, but she might not get hurt.

  There wasn’t time to figure out an easier way down.

  She twisted, grasping the chain link in one hand and the metal pole with the other. Her flip-flops slipped and slid down the chain link until she was dangling by her hands.

  This was a terrible idea.

  She had all the regret..

  Here went nothing...

  She let go, free falling to earth. Or all of the three or so feet between her and the ground. She hit feet first and went down into a crouch. The impact jarred up her knees and hips into her spine.

  God, she hated flip-flops.

  Quinn stood, shaking out one foot then the other.

  She was in.

  And relatively unhurt.

  Good.

  She strode across the open lot.

  One of the bay doors was open.

  That was...strange.

  Had it been open earlier?

  Why would Duke’s guys leave the doors open like that?

  She peered into the darkness.

  “Quinn?” a man whispered.

  “Who’s there?”

  Big John stepped into the light, glancing around. The grizzled biker was in sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  “Come in here. Now,” he said.

  Shit.

  She’d forgotten about him.

  Did he know?

  If Owen knew where she was, then John likely knew.

  This whole thing was going to hell in a hand basket.

  “John? I need you to go back upstairs.” She crossed the lot, doing her best to keep the flip-flops from slapping on the pavement. “I can’t explain—I just need you to pretend like I’m not here.”

  “This is a bad idea,” he said. It was the way he
said it. He knew. Maybe everything or just enough, it didn’t matter.

  “There’s no time to argue with you. This is the only way. Please? Go upstairs.”

  “I can’t let you put your life in danger.” John wrapped his big, meaty hand around her wrist and tugged her deeper into the main garage.

  “John—”

  A shadow moved, separating itself from the deeper darkness.

  Quinn screamed.

  The shadow seemed to materialize into the form of a man dressed in all black. He swung a wrench, clocking John upside the head. He went down to the concrete like a load of bricks. Heavy. With a sickening thud.

  “Oh, my God!” Quinn took a step back, hands over her face.

  The attacker pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.

  “Wait!” She held out her hands. “I brought it. Just like we agreed.”

  “All I needed to know was where the battery was. Thanks.” He chuckled.

  It was a trap.

  Deep down, part of her had expected this. Wondered if she could trust him.

  Now she knew she couldn’t.

  At least she’d been able to tell Owen she loved him.

  Something snarled.

  The gun went off, the sound echoing off the tin and concrete.

  Quinn braced herself for the pain, for death.

  Owen sprinted straight at the chain-link fence.

  They’d all heard the shot. He’d seen the flash of muzzle fire.

  He threw himself at the fence, pulling himself up by sheer force. He got his feet over the top and vaulted over. His shirt caught, ripping up the back. He landed, already running.

  A figure lay on the ground up ahead. It was too big to be Quinn. John? Owen hoped not. He prayed not.

  Quinn was in there.

  The others called after him.

  He couldn’t wait.

  What if Quinn had been shot?

  What if she were dying right now?

  What if he could save her?

  He skidded around the bay door, his eyes struggling to see in the dim light. The smells of the garage, grease, oil, and the aroma of gunpowder assaulted his senses.

  Big John groaned, rolling to his side.

  “Stay down,” Owen said to the man.

  A dog yelped and cried out. Another man straightened.

  Quinn wound her arms up and struck out with a wrench as long as his forearm. She caught the guy in the shoulder, but he rammed into her, knocking her to the ground.

  Oh, hell no.

  Owen dove forward, charging the suspect.

  Quinn rolled aside.

  He hit the attacker in the chest, pushing him against the work bench.

  The dim light briefly fell across the man’s face.

  It was Hansel.

  Owen hauled back and punched him in the face.

  Hansel howled in pain and flung his arm out, backhanding Owen.

  He hardly felt the blow. He grasped the guy’s other wrist and twisted.

  Hansel swung around, something in his hand, and bashed it against the side of Owen’s head. He staggered back, his vision blurring from the blow.

  “Look out!” Quinn yelled.

  Owen ducked, but not enough. Something hard hit him in the side.

  The dog snarled again, closer.

  “Fucking—ah!”

  Owen heard the deep-chested growls of the animal.

  He turned as Quinn darted past him, and swung the wrench. Her bag moved with her, pitching her off balance, but she still got Hansel in the shoulder.

  The man reached out, grabbing Quinn. In moments, he had his arm around her neck.

  “I’ll break her neck,” Hansel called out. “All of you—back. And call this damn dog off. Ah!”

  Quinn’s eyes glistened in the light.

  The dog had its teeth in Hansel’s calf and wasn’t letting go.

  Quinn glanced down and to the right, staring at a spot behind Owen.

  “All right.” Owen took a step back. “No one has to get hurt. Here, boy.”

  “You, back with the others!” Hansel turned, trying to keep the guys moving around to flank him in sight.

  There was a gun under the work bench.

  Hansel wasn’t armed.

  All he had were threats.

  Worst case scenario... they could pull back and wait.

  No, he could still kill Quinn and complete his job.

  What did Owen do?

  “I want everyone out of here, or I break her neck,” Hansel called out. He dug his other hand in her hair, shoving her face down.

  Owen saw the flash of teeth.

  Hansel screamed, the pitch rising.

  The dog snarled.

  Owen dove forward, yanking Quinn into his arms. Duke was right behind him. He grabbed Hansel with one hand and kicked the guy’s legs out from under him.

  “John, come get your damn dog. I told you, no dogs in the garage. What the fuck, man?”

  Those were maybe the most words Owen had ever heard Duke say at once.

  “Come on.” Owen kept his arms around Quinn. “There’s a gun there, Blake.”

  “On it.” Blake crossed to stand next to the weapon. They wouldn’t touch it until the cops with badges arrived, but someone needed to keep an eye on it.

  Duke and the others were all over Hansel. He wasn’t getting out of this one.

  That left Owen with Quinn.

  He hauled her outside into the fresh air.

  Light glinted off tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide. Scared.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” He let go of her.

  She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

  “I was trying to make him stop. He’d said he’d stop.” She pulled the sleeve of his hoodie down and swiped it across her face.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. He said he would.”

  “Why would you believe him? What would make you think he was telling you the truth? That’s not a smart thing to do.” He was talking too loud. There was too much adrenaline in his system. He needed to cool down. But she could have died. Again. And this time, it’d have been her fault.

  “I don’t know, Owen!” She glared at him, her gaze focused.

  “That was stupid, Quinn. You’re smarter than this. God! You could have died. Don’t you get that?”

  “Don’t you dare touch me. You think I didn’t consider the risk? Me? I did! I have Kierra and you to think about.” She took a step back. “I did it to make that man go away. I did it for you.”

  “Well, that was stupid. You can’t do this—”

  “Fuck you. You’re stupid. I don’t need you.”

  “Quinn—”

  “No, don’t come near me.” She held up her hands. “He wasn’t going to leave us alone. What about Kierra? What if he killed you? I had to think about more than just what I wanted. I chose to take a risk that he was telling the truth and would stop. I had to take a chance. What the hell could you have done? You aren’t a cop anymore, Owen. You can’t protect us. This is my goddamn life, Owen. You’re just playing in it. You don’t get to call me stupid.”

  He stood there stunned as her words slapped him in the face.

  She was right. He had no ability to protect her, and that grated. But she’d never held it against him before.

  “Quinn, that wasn’t—”

  “No. I don’t want to hear any more from you.” She shoved at his hands.

  The lights of the police cars cast long shadows on the building

  Quinn backed up, putting space between them.

  He wanted to hug and strangle her, all at once.

  Didn’t she know they had to stay the course? Do the right thing? It was the only way to win this.

  20.

  Quinn woke up to the blaring horn of her alarm.

  Hadn’t she just gone to sleep?

  She reached blindly for the bedside clock.

  Chloe’s. Quinn was in Chloe’s guest
room.

  Why?

  The gnawing dread tore through her thin defenses against last night.

  Owen.

  The garage.

  Hansel reneging on their deal.

  She stared up at the ceiling, the deep ache in her heart hurting. Last night she’d walked away from Owen out of anger. What right did he have in being mad at her for trying to save them? To call her efforts stupid? She’d always tried to do the right thing, and look where that got her in life.

  She was a single, struggling parent to her kid sister working at a place that would slowly suck the life out of her until she had nothing left to give. The one thing she’d done for herself had resulted in this disaster.

  She’d seen a way to fix things. For them to all live. And she’d gone for it. That didn’t rate calling her stupid or yelling at her.

  No, that was wrong.

  He hadn’t called her stupid.

  He’d implied her choices were stupid. That her actions were stupid. It didn’t necessarily mean he’d called her stupid, but that was how it felt.

  Well, she’d made her choices and acted out of her desire to protect the ones she loved.

  Quinn pushed herself upright in bed, or tried to. The thick, plush mattress just sucked her down farther.

  Her head hurt. Her body hurt. And her heart felt as though it’d been cut out of her.

  Hansel was in custody, the cops could pin it all on him, thanks to the evidence in his car. But the threat to Quinn wasn’t gone.

  She didn’t need Owen or any of the others to tell her that whoever had hired the bearded man had also hired Hansel. They’d get someone else, and if she didn’t want Owen to be collateral damage, then she needed to stay away from him.

  No contact.

  No chance to patch things up.

  No chance to tell her he loved her.

  Nothing.

  It was the only way to keep him safe. To limit who got hurt.

  “Morning.” Chloe pushed the bedroom door open. She was already dressed, make-up on and had a breakfast tray in hand.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn eyed the food.

  “You had a rough night.” Chloe winced and set the tray on the bed.

  “You don’t let anyone eat in bed unless they’re sick. What’s going on?” Quinn snagged a piece of toast off the plate.

  Chloe wrung her hands together, expression pained.

  “Owen’s downstairs,” she said.

  Quinn’s heart twinged at the idea of him so near.