Noble Prince (Twisted Royals, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

  There should be a suitcase with her charger waiting for her in the room. All would be well. She’d figure it out. Owen was there.

  She slid the phone into her pocket and waited the umpteenbillion floors to go before it dinged to hers.

  Quinn pulled out her key card out and headed down the halls, following the signs. Her room couldn’t be in a more remote, hard to find corner of the hotel if they tried.

  She slid the key card in, waited for the beep then pushed the door in.

  “Pearl? Hey, sorry about this.” Quinn stepped in, letting the door shut behind her.

  Pearl sat on the edge of the bed with some sort of mask over her face. A tube ran from the mask to a small, white box that chugged and puffed.

  “Pearl—what’s going on?”

  “Breathing treatment.” She pulled the mask away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t downstairs to help better. Please, don’t tell anyone about this?”

  “I’d never. What’s wrong?” Quinn took several steps toward Pearl. She’d always been a spry, old woman. She had no idea Pearl might be sick.

  “I’m old.” Pearl smiled, but it was sad.

  “Well, is this helping?”

  “It does, a bit.” Pearl switched off the machine.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A while. I’m hoping to get on an experimental treatment list, but that’s for another time. I went over the paperwork.” Pearl pulled out the desk chair. “It’s right here. I don’t understand what went wrong. Will you take a look? These old eyes just aren’t what they once were.”

  Quinn crossed to the desk and studied the shipping forms. She’d bully Pearl into telling her more later. She couldn’t imagine a world without Pearl in it.

  “There it is. Four containers. Where’d they go?” She perched on the chair, flipping to the first page.

  Pearl leaned over her shoulder. Her cane jabbed Quinn in the arm.

  “Ouch. Hey, you’ve got a sharp something on your cane.” Quinn rubbed her arm. The spot felt warm and her arm throbbed.

  Pearl stared at her over the top of her glasses. The woman staring back at her wasn’t the fairy godmother Quinn had leaned on these last few days.

  “I told you to drop it, Quinn. I didn’t want to do this, but it was you or the treatments. It’ll be fast, I promise,” Pearl said softly.

  “Do what? What did you do?” Quinn pushed to her feet and stumbled back, or tried to.

  Her legs wouldn’t work.

  She hit the ground hard enough she saw stars.

  They were the last thing she saw.

  “Fifteen, seventeen, nineteen...” Owen jogged down the hall.

  Quinn hadn’t checked in for nearly twenty minutes. There was no answer when he called. And he had no idea what she was doing, if she’d made it to the room, but it was the best place to start looking at her.

  Splitting up was always a bad idea. Why had he let her talk him into it? Because she’d smiled and said she was glad he was there, that was why. He was an idiot.

  He stopped at the room door and pounded it with his fist.

  What if Pearl was a trap? What if she was a hostage? What if—?

  A dozen scenarios played through his head.

  “Open up.” Owen kept beating on the door.

  No one answered.

  Quinn hadn’t checked in.

  He glanced up and down the hall.

  The guys at the precinct had allowed him to borrow a few toys. Seemed they were grateful to him for having a hand in cleaning the house and were willing to turn a blind eye for a few days.

  He inserted the end of the key card code breaker into the slot and pressed the button.

  The red light flashed on and on, taunting him.

  “Come on, come on,” he chanted.

  The light flickered green.

  He shoved the door open and froze.

  An elderly woman knelt with her knees on Quinn’s chest and a pillow over Quinn’s face. Her arms flopped, but she wasn’t fighting back.

  Owen rushed forward, knocking the woman aside.

  “No, no, no,” Pearl said.

  The cop part of his brain flickered. His responsibilities were detaining the suspect, rendering aid and securing the scene.

  Except, this was Quinn. She would always be his number one, procedure be damned.

  He went to his knees and felt for a pulse.

  Pearl crawled toward the nightstand.

  She’d tried to kill Quinn. Pearl had been there at every turn. Calling. So concerned and kind.

  “Breathe, Quinn! Breathe with me, baby.” He could feel the faint stirring of breath, but it was like she was in a deep sleep.

  Pearl grabbed her purse.

  Owen lunged for her. He grabbed Pearl by the arm, forcing her onto the floor. Pearl twisted at the same moment Owen went to kick the purse away and nailed Pearl in the head instead. The old woman’s body went slack. Shit. He was going to hell for that.

  He jabbed at the phone, calling 9-1-1. His mouth worked, functioning on autopilot. He’d called in hundreds of incidents, he knew what to say, the questions they’d answer, all of it, but it didn’t help Quinn this moment.

  Every second he spent on the phone was another Quinn might be drifting farther away from him.

  He yanked the phone off the night stand and pulled it to her side.

  “She’s still breathing. Barely. Hurry, please?”

  “Paramedics are on scene already. They’re coming to you,” the dispatcher said in a calm voice.

  “Hear that, Quinn? Hold on. Just hold on.” He fought the urge to scoop her up and cradle her to his chest. Whatever Pearl had done, he could further complicate matters by moving her. All the trauma she’d been through, she had to survive this.

  Moments later the door banged open. Two paramedics with a stretcher rolled in, spouting information back and forth in a blur.

  Owen backed up.

  He knew what came next, how the scene would look.

  He was the obvious suspect. There was no getting to go with Quinn. He was headed to jail. Who’d believe a grandma, the woman who’d bent over backward to get Quinn here, would be the one trying to kill her?

  Quinn was tired of hurting. Of feeling like death. Of being the world’s punching bag. Her heart hurt worst of all. There was still a big, Owen-shaped hole to fill.

  Something beeped off to her right.

  She flung out her arm, searching for the alarm, trying to snooze it.

  Instead, she punched some sort of metal bar.

  Quinn hissed and pulled her hand back.

  “Oh, hey. Don’t do that.”

  That sounded an awful lot like...

  Quinn pried an eye open.

  Chloe leaned over her, dark circles under her eyes.

  Over her shoulder, a barrage of things beeped, whirled and flickered lights. Oh, dear... This, again?

  “Why am I in the hospital?” Quinn’s mouth hardly wanted to work.

  “Funny story.” Chloe leaned her arms against the rails. “Your friend, Pearl, tried to kill you.”

  “She sucks at it.” Quinn groaned.

  “She would have succeeded, if Owen hadn’t stopped her.”

  Owen.

  The convention.

  The shipping manifest.

  Her prototype.

  Her heart did a painful leap in her chest. She pressed her hand to her sternum.

  That wasn’t right. That felt...really bad. And not in a broken heart way, in a something’s really wrong kind of way.

  “Where’s Owen?” Quinn’s throat tightened.

  “Ian’s pickin’ him up from the police station. We roused his friends in blue to help us get him out. I was hopin’ he’d be here before you woke up.”

  Quinn panted for breath.

  Her chest hurt.

  “Easy.” Chloe took her hand.

  “What happened?”

  “She dosed you with somethin’. They think she was tryin’ to induce a heart a
ttack. Take easy, deep breaths. That’a girl.”

  “When’s Owen getting here?”

  “Soon—”

  “Knock, knock?”

  “Owen?” Quinn sat up, or did her best attempt at it, what with the cords and sensors attached to her.

  “Hey, hey, take it easy.” He crossed to the side of her bed and held her hand, the rest of the world fading away.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, if you’re going to apologize, how about apologize for trying to die to start?”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for stalking you.”

  “That was creepy.”

  “Hey, want to know some good news?”

  “What?” Was there better news than being alive?

  “They charged Pearl and she rolled over on who hired her. On top of that? They found your crate.”

  “That’s great.” Quinn sighed. At least she could return Levi’s bike.

  “And that’s not it. They’re going to set you up to show tomorrow, so you need to rest so we can go watch.”

  “Oh. That’s—great, too.”

  “I thought that would make you happy?”

  “You make me happy, Owen.” She squeezed his hand.

  “I still love you.”

  “Even if I’m a little broken?” She gestured to the IV.

  “I like fixing things.” Owen winked at her and leaned down.

  Nothing else mattered. Not the con or her prototype, just that they were back together.

  The heart monitor beeped in double time, but that was because her heart—Owen—was finally back where he belonged.

  Owen kept his arm around Quinn’s waist, in part because he didn’t want to let go of her and also because he felt the tremors from time to time. As soon as this part of the conference was over, they were taking a nice, easy trip back home and straight to a cardiologist. Someone else could deal with the logistics of how to get the equipment.

  In fact—was that Levi?

  Quinn leaned in closer. She had her lip pinched tight between her teeth and her eyes glued to the panel of lab-coat-wearing judges.

  They were going from booth to booth, testing everything.

  The bike was three down.

  The convention officials had made her a place at the end of a row once word got around of what’d happened.

  “It’s going to work,” he whispered.

  He pushed her hair back.

  The craziness of the last two weeks were taking their toll on Quinn. After this, he was going to lock her up for a weekend of Netflix and calorie-rich food. They had a long way to go to figuring out what they wanted, but he knew when the cards were on the table, he wanted to be with her. In whatever capacity that looked like.

  “There they go.” She buried her face against his chest, then peered out through her wild curls.

  The bike revved with a loud whine.

  The guy grinned and gunned the engine several times, the wheels spinning on nothing.

  The sound echoed through the nearly eerily-quiet convention hall. People chuckled and clapped. Then that was it.

  The group stood back, jotted down things on their clipboards and moved on.

  “I kind of thought they’d do...more.” He frowned at the panel of judges.

  “It’s not crazy exciting, I know, but...it is to me.” Quinn stared up at him. “Thanks for being here. Saving my life. All that stuff.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, keeping it brief. Until they knew the state of her heart he wasn’t going to do anything to get the blood pumping.

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He stroked her cheek. “You’re going to have a hell of a time getting rid of me.”

  “Who said anything about wanting to?”

  “Just putting it out there. You might be stuck with me for life.”

  Quinn blinked at him.

  That... Shit. That sounded all sorts of strange.

  “I fail to see how that would be a bad thing.” She turned and slid her arms up around his neck.

  “Is this where you make case studies and test your ideas out?” He slid his hands into her back pockets, covertly cupping her ass under her long sweater.

  “The initial tests have been pretty positive so far, don’t you think? Besides, from a completely practical stand point, your house is gone and I’m about to quit my job.” Quinn lifted her shoulders.

  “Seriously?” Owen held his breath. He knew what HI-Co meant to her, but also what it cost her.

  “This was my dream.” Quinn glanced around. “It wasn’t a glittery, crazy dream, but it was mine. It’s time to stop sacrificing for everyone else. It’s time to put us—Kierra, you, me—first.”

  “Kierra, you, then me.”

  “You know what I mean.” She chuckled and swatted his chest.

  “Maybe, but...we should still be clear on what we want. I want you, for however long you’ll have me.”

  “Promise?” Quinn crooked her pinky finger at him.

  “Forever.” Owen grinned and hooked his finger in hers.

  Epilogue.

  Four weeks later...

  Quinn strolled through the front door at a quarter past five, to the smell of dinner and the sound of three shrieking little girls.

  Owen stood at the stove, brandishing a spatula.

  The girls were not impressed or intimidated.

  Quinn grinned and shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on the peg near the door.

  “Hey.” Owen grinned at her and put the utensil down. “How was your first day? Levi treat you well?”

  “It was great.” She gave Owens waist a squeeze. She hadn’t been totally sure about Levi’s suggested career change until after her prototype won the grant. The win was a feather in her cap and the money would go a long way in finding someone else to steer HI-Co. Leaving had been easier than she’d imagined, once the initial uproar subsided.

  Things were...looking good.

  She was hopeful about the future, where her career was going. Now, if they could sort out what Owen was going to do, things would be perfect. She’d enjoyed having him here the last few weeks. Hell, without him around post-surgery, she’d have been in a world of hurt.

  “Daddy’s home,” Kierra shrieked.

  “What?” Quinn gaped at Owen, who looked equally shocked.

  They turned toward the door as it opened and Quinn’s father stepped through the door in time to catch Kierra mid-air.

  Quinn pressed a hand to her heart, as though she could calm its irregular beat. The shock of seeing Dad now, after calling and calling him for help, was doing nothing to help her ticker.

  Whatever Pearl had injected her with had done its damage. The pacemaker would do the rest.

  “Dad?” Quinn glanced from her dad to Owen.

  She hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him in all these weeks, and now he was just there? He was the same larger-than-life man she remembered, always showing up after the hard stuff had happened to revel in the good days.

  Typical Dad.

  She clenched her other hand into a fist.

  Giving into her anger would solve nothing, especially with Kierra there.

  Quinn took a deep breath and focused on what she could control.

  Logistically, it was a nightmare, since Owen had taken over the closet in Dad’s bedroom. At least she hadn’t given in yet and fully moved into the larger room.

  “How’s my girls? Quinn!” He grinned and threw his arms around Quinn, his grip tightening around her.

  “Stop!” She yelped, half in panic. He loved picking them up and tossing them around as though they were children.

  Dad let go of her and took a step back, hurt shining in his eyes. Quinn focused on sucking down calming, even breaths, her hand pressed tighter to her chest now. She wasn’t quite at one hundred percent yet.

  “Quinn’s still healing.” Kierra took his hand in hers
, her gaze serious. The poor thing had learned the hard way after jumping on a half-asleep Quinn that it was easy to hurt her post-surgery and rehab for whatever cocktail Pearl had pumped her full of.

  “Healing? What happened?” Dad’s gaze flicked to Owen.

  “A lot.” Quinn cleared her throat. More than what they would get into right now. “Sorry, it’s just—you normally pick me up and...that might...”

  “No, no, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know.” Dad turned around, his gaze landing on Owen, an obvious change of topic. “Who’s this young man?”

  “Owen King. Nice to finally meet you, sir.” Owen shook Dad’s hand then turned to the girls. Quinn appreciated Owen’s polite attitude. She knew what Owen really thought, but he would play nice for her sake. “Kierra, will you put another plate at the table, then go wash up? All of you girls. Go. Get to it.” Owen clapped his hands.

  Dad watched the girls run down the hall, and Owen retreated to the kitchen.

  The first moments after Dad’s arrival were always a bit circus-like. The initial excitement, the contagious joy. He was a pleasure to be around, but not someone Quinn had ever counted on. It hurt to know that in her greatest times of need he couldn’t even pick up the phone, but she had Owen now. Maybe it was time to reframe her relationship with her father.

  “Would you like to put your stuff away before dinner?” Quinn asked.

  “Just got my bag.” He toed the duffle on the floor.

  “We can put that away.”

  He undoubtedly had questions, and wouldn’t ask them in front of Kierra or Owen. It was best to get this handled now, so that maybe she could enjoy this visit.

  Dad slung the bag over his shoulder.

  Quinn led the way down the hall and into what had been her parent’s bedroom. She’d made a few changes, first to accommodate Owen during his stay, and then with the long-term goal in mind. Marriage. A family. They weren’t shy about admitting what they both wanted.

  Dad set the bag on the bed then turned to face her.

  “Can I get a gentle hug from my shooting star?” Dad held his hands out, his expression pained.

  “Of course, Dad.”

  Quinn walked into her Dad’s arms and gave him a squeeze. He might lose his way, but in the end he always came home.