Noble Prince (Twisted Royals, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

  “What?” Anna Beth stared at Quinn like she’d grown a second head. “Dear god, your eye.”

  “Quinn, when you finish with the coffee, the bathrooms are a mess. Can you get on that?” Karen never glanced up from her phone.

  “Let’s go back to the email. What do you mean you haven’t checked it yet?” Anna Beth groaned.

  Quinn bit her tongue.

  Karen was standing right there. Quinn had to be careful how she answered this.

  It didn’t matter that her father owned the majority of the company. They all knew that Karen was really in charge. And if Quinn told the truth, that she’d been denied a company phone, and that due to her salary cut she’d been forced to discontinue the cable at home and go sans internet, Karen would interpret that as a complaint. She saw everything Quinn said as whining.

  “No. I’m very sorry, Anna Beth, I’ll get right on it after coffee and the bathrooms.” Quinn finished washing out the old grounds and flipped the switch for brewing the new pot.

  “But...I need the supplies now.” Anna Beth tapped her heel on the tile floor.

  “Anna Beth, Quinn will see to it promptly, won’t you, Quinn?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Right after the other hundred and one items on her plate.

  Quinn scurried out of the break room without her coffee. It was too dangerous to wait around and risk getting another dozen items on her list.

  If only she could afford to take a sick day. That would be heavenly. Except, on the few days she didn’t come in or when Kierra was ill, the others saw nothing wrong with calling Quinn until she might as well have come in anyway. Cutting the internet at the house was one small step in preserving the sanctity of the family home. At least when she was home now, she couldn’t do work, and therefore spent as much of her time as possible with Kierra. Or trying her best to fix things around the house no one ever finished.

  The first time a charity knocked on Quinn’s door and said they wanted to do something for a veteran’s family, Quinn had wept with relief. She’d been trying to finish classes and raise her toddler sister. Any help was a blessing. At least, until the charity ripped up half the floor boards on the back porch, then disappeared. It’d taken her six months to find out they’d stopped due to lack of funds. The next do-gooder had wanted to repair the drooping gutters, the ones after that thought the house needed trees. Not a single one had ever been completed.

  Things only got done when she did them herself.

  Like the bathrooms at work.

  She’d have to check on the cleaning company. Maybe the payment hadn’t gone through.

  Quinn didn’t see her office again for close to three hours. After the bathrooms were tidied from whatever tornado had gone through them, she had to make a trip out for Anna Beth’s supplies. Quinn could order them online, but she’d discovered that a number of the things people wanted could be acquired at a local scrap yard. So long as she slapped a sticker on it and used the pressure washer to clean the reclaimed pieces up, no one was the wiser.

  She delivered the items to the labs and hustled her way back to her office. There were still a number of things to get done, like the accounting for the check run and the projected expenses for the upcoming conference.

  What a disaster.

  On Quinn’s walk-through that morning, she hadn’t seen any more advancement on the battery project from either Anna Beth or Molly since early last week.

  The battery project could save HI-Co.

  A good deal of their business came from outside groups funding the research and development of new inventions. What with the airlines cracking down on a whole slew of traditional battery-operated products to prevent terrorism, there were pushes to develop new batteries. Smaller ones that wouldn’t pollute the world’s landfills. That couldn’t be replaced with explosives.

  When Quinn had heard about the grant project, her heart had skipped a beat.

  Her mother had tinkered with a magnesium-powered battery. It would last longer, cause less waste and be cheaper to produce, if Mom hadn’t died before she’d really sunk her teeth into it.

  But neither Molly or Anna Beth were interested in the project, which would bring in much-needed money. Oh, they’d made token efforts to appease Karen, but not the kind of advancements to win the grant. That kind of prototype would take real effort.

  Quinn sank into the chair. She’d stolen it from what had been her mother’s office, back when Karen was upgrading some of the more senior staff, Quinn not included. When Quinn curled up in the chair and closed her eyes, sometimes she felt like she could still smell her mother’s perfume on the worn-out leather. It was some expensive fragrance only sold in India, where the rest of mom’s family lived.

  The office phone rang. Quinn winced and briefly considered crawling under the desk and hiding. Instead, she picked up the phone, pasted on a smile and braced herself.

  “HI-Co, this is Quinn speaking. How may I direct your call?”

  “Quinn, darling, how are you?”

  All the air went out of her and she slumped back in her chair.

  “Ms. Hamilton, hi.”

  Pearl Hamilton was another of Quinn’s mother’s peers who still checked in on Quinn, even more than others. She always had some funny story, a bit of wisdom or a dose of inspiration to get Quinn through the day.

  “Don’t hi me. I asked you a question. My godmother senses were tingling.”

  “It’s been a rough day.” Quinn sighed, slid her feet out of her shoes and pulled her knees up. She wouldn’t bother Pearl with the events of last night, that would only cause her to worry, and Quinn didn’t want that. Besides, she needed the escape that talking to Pearl provided her.

  “How are those good-for-nothing, spoiled girls getting on? Making any progress?” Pearl asked.

  “Some.” Quinn heard the lie in her own voice.

  “Karen should fire them, but she won’t.” Pearl sighed. “She’d wipe their asses, if they’d let her. What about you? Have you been working on our secret?”

  “A little.” Quinn glanced at the door to the office.

  “A little? I hope a little more than that.”

  “I had to play mom this weekend, but I’m hopeful I can work out the casing issue this week.” Quinn was desperate for a home run, something to save the company her mother had built from the ground up. And that was why Quinn had stolen what research of her mother’s she could get her hands on. Karen still didn’t know the photocopies were gone, and probably never would.

  “Are you working at the university, or at home?”

  “I moved everything to the house.”

  “Well, I look forward to cheering you on next week.”

  Quinn made a noncommittal sound.

  Even if she finished her battery, there was no guarantee they’d allow her to display the prototype. She was just the office girl, a glorified secretary, and yet, she wanted them to succeed. More than she wanted anything else in the world.

  Owen stared at the butcher block slowly soaking up the mineral oil. He’d done his damnedest to stay busy all day, to do things that would take his mind off the future, but it was useless. The knowledge he might have served his last day as a homicide detective kept gnawing at him.

  He wasn’t due to meet with his captain yet, but when he did, who knew what would happen? Where the blame would fall?

  There were other precincts, more departments. He could go somewhere, start fresh, and maybe that would be good for him. Somewhere along the line, he’d lost sight of what he did. He caught the bad guys. End of story. He just wished he could do...more.

  Owen had lost his way and thought he could be a hero.

  Then again, maybe he’d never really found it to begin with.

  He’d become a cop to make the world a safer place, and yet, had he?

  That first year he and Blake had patrolled together, they’d talked at length about what they wanted. The difference they wanted to make in the world. Sure, they’d arrested some people and h
anded out speeding tickets, but it wasn’t enough.

  They’d hatched the plan to get their detective shields at the same time.

  Blake got his a full year before Owen, but ultimately, they’d been back together. Getting the real scary guys off the streets. And yet, what about all the other people they weren’t helping?

  Would anything be enough?

  Headlights turned into the drive.

  He hit the button on the microwave with one hand and snagged the cloth from his pocket. While Quinn’s dinner heated, he scrubbed the counter, beginning at one end and working his way across to the other.

  Someone had put a lot of time and love into this kitchen. Butcher block didn’t come cheap, and this much of it? He didn’t want to consider the installation costs. It could do with a bit more oil, but this was a start at least.

  The front door opened. Quinn rushed through, her arms burdened down with tote bags. Tendrils of hair had come free from her messy bun. He had the strangest urge to tuck them back up.

  “I’m here! I’m home,” she called out.

  “Hey, was wondering where you were.” Owen smiled. People reacted to surprises better when smiles were involved, at least that was his experience.

  “My phone died.” Quinn eyed the countertops, and the overflowing kitchen table.

  “Sorry, this,” he gestured to the counters, “took longer than I thought.”

  “What are you doing? Where’s Kierra?” Quinn peered down the hall. “Kierra?”

  “I tried to call you about that.” Clearly, his smile wasn’t working this time.

  “What happened?” Quinn’s eyes went wide.

  “Nothing bad.” Owen held up his hands. “Chloe came by after dinner and wanted Kierra to come over for a little while.”

  “On a school night?” Quinn’s face crumpled.

  “I know, but it sounded like Delilah had a rough day—”

  “Oh my God, her treatments. How could I forget?” Quinn slapped a hand against her forehead. “I’m such a shitty friend.”

  The microwave dinged. Owen turned and popped it open. He gave it a quick stir, pulled it out and placed it on the stove. The counters still needed to sit for a bit.

  “You cooked.” Quinn now stood in the entrance to the U-shaped kitchen.

  “I guess your phone died sometime this afternoon?”

  “It hardly holds a charge. I left it on the docking station.” Her gaze darted around the kitchen. “What...did you do?”

  “I can clean a spot off at the table, if you like—”

  “Honestly, the sofa’s fine. Why are you doing all of this?” Quinn couldn’t seem to look at any one spot for longer than five seconds.

  “I swear it just started with fixing the sink.” He held up his hands and chuckled.

  “What did you do?” She finally stared right at him. The bruise on her cheek was still dark and ugly. He hated the sight of it. Wished he could make it go away.

  “Why don’t we talk about it while you eat?” He hadn’t paused to consider if he was overstepping the line or not, earlier. It hadn’t occurred to him until Chloe had showed up and gasped.

  Quinn accepted his offer of plate and silverware without further comment. She toted a plastic tumbler full of liquid to the sofa and curled up with the dinner perched on her knee. Owen chose the armchair across from her. A little distance seemed prudent. He was the interloper in her home, after all.

  “How was Chloe? Did she look okay? Was she stressed?” Quinn frowned at the beef tips and gravy. “Where did this come from?”

  “That came from the grocery store, and Chloe seemed okay. A little stressed but not bad.” Owen had come to know Ian’s sister, Chloe, fairly well. It seemed like her home was always bursting at the seams with people and puppies these days.

  Quinn opened her mouth and shut it.

  “What’s wrong? Do you not like the food?” Owen frowned. It’d been a touch saltier than he preferred, but not enough to ruin it. Totally his fault, for not realizing part of the salt shaker was broken.

  “Why are you doing this?” Quinn hunched her shoulders and stared at him.

  “I’m...not looking for anything, Quinn.” The lie tasted like salt. He swallowed and laced his fingers together.

  “No one does anything for free.” She set her fork down. She’d said the same thing that morning. “You don’t want money, what do you want? And don’t say it’s to know that we’re safe. It’s a pretty answer, but it’s not real.”

  Owen pressed his lips together and stared at the floor.

  “It’s not a lie. I do want to know that you’re both safe. I guess...I need something to do. While I’m suspended. Something that matters.”

  “We’re your charity project, then?”

  “No, Quinn. That’s not it.”

  “Because you wouldn’t be the first person who’s thought that.” Quinn’s stare was ice cold.

  Owen bit his tongue.

  Quinn’s job was to protect her sister. From everyone and anything that might harm her. If she saw him as a threat, maybe he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. He hadn’t exactly respected her wishes in the beginning. When Kierra called, he came. End of story. If he could go back, he’d talk to Quinn first. Figure something out that didn’t leave him trampling roughshod over her.

  “I overstepped. I’m sorry.” Owen stood. “There’s leftovers in the fridge. The countertops should dry in a little while. And there’s drain cleaner in the bathroom. You’ll want to leave it for another half hour before running water. Chloe said she’d drop Kierra off in a little while, so you wouldn’t have to get out again.”

  That was about everything on his mental list. As for the rest, he’d left that on the fridge.

  Owen crossed to the door.

  “Owen—stop, will you? I had a really bad day, and I sound like a bitch.” Quinn sighed.

  He paused, coat in hand, and watched her place the untouched dinner on the coffee table then stand.

  “What I should have said is, thank you. And now, I’m sorry.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you for being a friend, Owen. And for dinner. I’m sorry for being a bitch. There. How’s that?”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” Owen draped his coat over his arm.

  “Will you sit, please?” Quinn looked ready to drop. After the last twenty-four hours, he could understand why.

  Owen took a chance and sat across from her on the sofa, draping his jacket across the pile of blankets and pillows she’d given him last night.

  “We never really got off on a good foot, did we?” Quinn stared at her hands folded in her lap.

  “That was my fault.”

  “Not really. Maybe. Anyway, I’ve been unfair to you.” Quinn grimaced and peered through her lashes at him. “It’s just... Every time Dad comes home, he’s going to fix everything. He’s going to make it all better. We start to believe him and then...he’s gone again, and nothing gets done. Usually, there’s more to do after he’s here. There have been other people who say they’ll help...and they never do. I know I have issues. About trusting people. Especially people who have good intentions.”

  “I walked into that one, didn’t I?” He winced.

  “We’ve just had a lot of well-meaning people drop the ball.”

  “What can I do—anything? —to make this right?”

  “You already have.” Quinn gestured to the uneaten dinner. “Kierra really likes you. She’s not a people person. And I need to stop giving Dad’s mistakes to you. I’m pretty sure you’ve done more today than Dad has in his last five years of trips home.”

  She pulled the plate back into her lap and scooped up a bite.

  “I’m not blameless. I did force my way in here a few times.” That first time Kierra called him, he’d nearly brought a SWAT unit with him.

  “Yeah, you were kind of a dick, but what if something had happened? What if we were really in trouble?” Quinn chewed her first bite. “This is really good. What brand wa
s this?”

  “Uh, what? The meat?”

  “No, I mean, what frozen bag was this?”

  “Believe it or not, I do cook.”

  “What else do you do, Detective King?” Quinn smiled and the stress seemed to slip from around her shoulders.

  Owen couldn’t help smiling back. When Quinn forgot the worries of the world and got to be herself, she was rather enchanting.

  “Well, I dance—poorly, I might add—and I scrub counters, clean drains and fix windows.” He eased back against the cushions, taking her smile for acceptance.

  “I’m going to start calling you Cinderfella.” She chuckled. “What did you get suspended for?”

  “Ah. That.” He stared at the worn cushions. “There was this thing with Jax and Ian...”

  “Oh, god. Say no more. I don’t need to know.” Quinn sighed. “Let me guess, that was when Ian got shot? That business with Jax’s new girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. You know?”

  “Taylor said a few things about it, since, you know...” She lifted a shoulder. “So, you got involved, and that landed you in trouble, am I right?”

  “Yes. I did a good thing for bad reasons.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Ouch. You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

  “I live with an eight year old who can recite, word for word, almost every conversation we’ve ever had. What I’ve learned is to say I’m sorry often, never lie, and sugar-coating the truth makes it worse in the end.”

  “I can see where that would be difficult.”

  “It’s maddening. You can never tell her, go brush your teeth. You have to look up why brushing your teeth is good for you and then break it all down into words a little girl can understand. Just because she can parrot information back to you doesn’t mean she gets it.”

  “I can see what you mean. It has to be tough.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. Between needing to be careful with her and make nice at work, I can be a bit of a bitch to everyone else.”

  “How about this?” Owen turned, leaning his arm on the back of the sofa. “Can we agree that all we both want is to keep Kierra safe?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said slowly.

  “Then, so long as we agree about that, I’ll make an effort to ask before I act, and you keep calling me on my shit. Deal?”