Noble Prince (Twisted Royals, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

  They rode for a few blocks, nothing but the patter of rain to break up the silence.

  “You have options, Owen. Life doesn’t end when you leave the force. Besides, I’m not certain they’ll really let you go.”

  “They will.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because there’s at least one person, probably more, who wants to shut me up.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out.”

  The only real evidence Owen would have was Jaxon’s eye witness account. As soon as Yuri was dead, someone had torched the Swan Palace, destroying all of the evidence inside. Jaxon could at least point Owen in the right direction to start looking.

  “My advice, not that you’re asking for it? Let it go.” Blake pulled into the drive of Owen’s small bungalow and shifted into park. “After my accident...”

  Owen nearly held his breath. Blake didn’t talk about himself, what he’d gone through, any of it. At least not to Owen.

  “I became obsessed with the guy who hit me. I researched him while I was still in the hospital, made a fake Facebook profile to friend him and keep tabs on what he was doing. Later, the first thing I did when they fitted me with a prosthetic, I followed him. When I could drive, I sat outside his house, watching him with his family. Going on like they were normal. Like he hadn’t ruined my life.”

  Owen held his breath.

  He hadn’t known.

  “Officially, my car accident was because I lost control in the rain. The officers on site blamed it on my prosthetic, but I didn’t lose control. I was driving by where the guy works, didn’t pay attention, and crashed into that eighteen wheeler. What if... What if it hadn’t been a truck? What if it’d been a car with a mom and her kids? What if it was some other innocent person? I realized as they were cutting me out of that tin can, that my obsession could ruin more than just my life.”

  Blake turned his head, meeting Owen’s stare.

  “Let it go, Owen.”

  “I had no idea...”

  “Yeah. I’ve been a special kind of fucked up, but I’m better now. At least, I’ve got a plan that doesn’t revolve around watching someone go to AA meetings and then kiss his kids goodnight.”

  “This is different, Blake—”

  “No, it’s not. Bad shit happened to you. That sucks, but you have to get over it.”

  Owen pressed his lips together. Blake could project his recent experiences on Owen all he wanted to, but it didn’t make their situations any more similar.

  Blake had suffered from a freak accident. He’d had part of his body cut off.

  Owen got caught between a rock and a hard place when it came to criminal cops covering their asses.

  Someone had seen justice for what happened to Blake.

  Owen wasn’t going to get that.

  That was the difference between them. Blake got to move on. He got closure. Healing. Owen...didn’t.

  “I’ll work on it,” Owen said.

  “Awesome. What are we doing, today?” Blake popped his seatbelt.

  “We?” Owen frowned and followed suit.

  “I’ve been a shitty friend, but you need someone in your corner. I’m going to be here for you, man.”

  Owen got out without responding to that.

  He and Blake couldn’t simply go back to being best friends. Not if Blake was going to stop Owen from finding out the truth behind why he was fired, who was dirty. But if he was going to have a shadow, he might as well put him to use. Besides, brush was easier to pull up when the ground was damp, and Owen thought better when he was doing something.

  Quinn eyed the plastic crate and briefly considered locking herself inside of it. But the material wasn’t thick enough to block out Anna Beth and Molly screaming at each other.

  “Why does she get the bamboo display, and I don’t?” Molly demanded.

  “I requisitioned it first.” Anna Beth stomped her foot.

  “Girls...” Karen held up her hands but the two women were ignoring her.

  Quinn had a bad feeling.

  Everyone else in their weekly meeting had something else to look at. Quinn’s phone was dead, and it was up to her to take notes, anyway. She’d saved the display request for last, hoping she could push it off another week.

  She hadn’t.

  “Quinn should have just approved it. First come, first serve.” Anna Beth crossed her arms over her chest and stared down her nose at Molly.

  “That’s not fair. Why should you get the nice display? You aren’t even showing anything new. I am.” Molly jabbed her finger at herself.

  “Ladies—please?” Karen pushed to her feet, cane in hand. “Quinn will handle it.”

  Molly’s gaze cut toward Quinn.

  Shit.

  How would they pay for another display? It was too late. And if Molly got the new, shiny toy, the old display wouldn’t be good enough for Anna Beth.

  “The rest of you are dismissed.” Karen limped toward the door.

  The other employees scurried away, leaving Quinn caught between the two women.

  Molly had a list of ideas, and Anna Beth had a rebuttal for each.

  Quinn’s eyes began to lose focus and her head throbbed.

  The reality was that they wouldn’t get anything figured out today, not when both were armored up for verbal combat.

  “We can pick a time to discuss this later. Why don’t you both firm up your ideas and shoot me an email? Let me know when you’re both free.” Quinn picked up her notebook and bolted for the door.

  She didn’t have it in her to make magic happen today. She was just one girl, with only so many resources. And bathrooms to clean. What the hell was up there?

  “Quinn!”

  “Pearl?” She skidded to a stop, blinking at Pearl and Karen facing off in the entry to the HI-Co offices.

  “I thought I’d come take you to lunch today,” Pearl said in a sweet-as-pie voice while staring daggers at Karen.

  She nearly wept with relief. God, she was so desperate for a moment away.

  “I can’t spare Quinn right now.” Karen placed both hands on her cane and stared coolly back at Pearl.

  “Everyone’s entitled to a break, Karen. Don’t you know your own staffing rules?” Pearl took Quinn by the arm. “Come on and help an old lady out to her car.”

  Quinn was going to pay for this, but at least she’d have a full stomach. Pearl always did take her to the nicest places.

  “I had no idea you were coming by today.” Quinn held the front door for her.

  “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood.”

  Hansel Garris flipped through the diner’s breakfast menu. He didn’t need to look at it. He knew it by heart but every so often, he indulged in this one act. Show up, flip through the menu from front to back, then order a number three with bacon, and a number six with a side of egg.

  He wouldn’t touch the number three. It would sit across from him, grow cold, the grease would congeal while he ate his meal.

  Then he’d tip the waitress generously, and leave.

  It wasn’t the same without his brother, but then again, it never would be.

  A man slid into the booth across from him, disrupting the routine.

  “Thought I’d find you here.” The blond man grinned at him.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Hansel growled the words.

  “Found this. Thought of you.”

  He tossed a couple folded pieces of paper at him.

  Hansel spread the pages out.

  The picture of Detective Owen King stared back at him.

  The rest of the pages were an article. Words were highlighted, creating another message already jotted down on a piece of scratch paper.

  “That’s the guy who shot and killed your brother, ain’t it?”

  Hansel’s vision hazed.

  Owen King.

  That man had forced Hansel to flee without paying his respects to his brother. The job they’d
been hired for went sideways. The cop wound up a step ahead of them, and Hansel’s brother had died.

  “I just figured, if you were going to kill this guy anyway, might as well get paid for it, am I right?”

  “Shut. Up.” Hansel glared at the other man. “Leave. Do not come back here. Ever.”

  “All right. Fine. Whatever. I get a finder’s fee though, man. You owe me.”

  Hansel stared at the page, the message.

  The job wasn’t about Owen King, but it didn’t mean the man couldn’t at least be a bonus. After all, there was such a thing as collateral damage.

  It appeared he needed a new umbrella. He was going to Seattle.

  7.

  Quinn almost collapsed onto the stool in Chloe’s kitchen. Judging by the amount of craft glitter on the kiddie table, it was going to take the girls a little while to clean up.

  “Drink.” Chloe pushed a very full wine glass across the counter toward Quinn.

  “Oh, no. I can’t.”

  “This one can’t drink with me anymore, someone has to.” Chloe thumbed at Taylor, who was flipping through a text book at the end of the bar.

  “You know I’m right here?” Taylor chuckled.

  “I’ll drink some, not all.” Quinn could do with a little wine.

  “I stopped by your place after the girls finished school.” Chloe lifted her brows.

  “What?” Quinn paused with the glass in hand.

  What had Owen done now?

  Dear god...

  “Someone’s cleaned your gutters and pulled out those things you call hedges that you keep saying you’ll get around to burning.”

  “What?” Quinn set the glass down.

  “What’s wrong?” Chloe frowned.

  “I have to go.”

  “Why? Was Owen not supposed to pull the hedges out? You always talk about how much you hate them.”

  “Owen...” Quinn rolled her eyes and groaned.

  “I wish I could be there for this chat.” Chloe grinned.

  “Can Kierra stay here a little while longer?” Quinn needed to establish some boundaries. She was grateful for what Owen had done for them. She really was. But at some point, it had to stop.

  “Sure thing. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. How about I bring her over later, with your wine?”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably need it.” Quinn shrugged into her coat, grabbed her purse and bolted out the door.

  So much for a little girl-time after work. She’d begun enjoying these chats with Chloe and Taylor. They made Quinn feel almost normal by comparison. And truth be told, she wanted to talk out what was happening between her and Owen with someone, even if that person was Chloe. She might rub Quinn’s nose in it, but she’d give good advice.

  She hopped in her car and zipped around the block.

  An unfamiliar car sat at the curb.

  Bundles of twigs, sticks and branches sat ready for pick up. Along with bags. Lots, and lots of bags.

  Quinn pulled into the drive and got out, gaping at the difference.

  The sun was setting, casting long shadows around the house, but she could already see where overgrown flower beds and out-of-control hedges had been hacked back. If it weren’t for the peeling paint, the house might actually look nice.

  This had to stop.

  She got out, clutching her bag to her chest.

  “Owen?” she called out.

  Almost on cue, he rounded the back of the house, a bundle of sticks slung across his shoulders and a bag of who knew what in his other hand. His white undershirt was plastered to his body from the rain. She could nearly trace every ridge and ripple of muscle under his shirt. She might not usually prefer the hot, hunky guys, but even she wasn’t impervious to the effect they had on a woman. But this wasn’t just any hot, hunky guy staring at her, every step bringing him closer. This was Owen. The man sleeping in her dad’s room, cleaning her gutters, fixing her window, and god only knew what else.

  Quinn nearly swallowed her tongue.

  “What are you doing out here?” He stopped barely a foot away, and glanced upward. “You’re going to get soaked.”

  “Me? What about you?” She gestured to the rest of him.

  Wet jeans plastered to muscular thighs.

  Shit.

  It was all too easy to recall how he’d felt holding her.

  He was a pushy man, sticking his nose where it wasn’t wanted. Even if he was a nice guy about it, said please and thank you, made her breakfast, and fixed all the problems she couldn’t find time for.

  She could not rely on him. She couldn’t do it. This was too much.

  “Owen, you have to stop.” She said each word with force.

  “What?” His face scrunched up and he hoisted the bundle of sticks higher on his shoulder.

  “This.” She gestured at the bag. “You have to stop helping me.”

  “It’s starting to rain harder. Will you go up to the porch, at least?”

  She didn’t want to get soaked and cold, but she also didn’t want to give in to his very reasonable request. He knew just how to come at her from a different angle to throw her off balance.

  “Fine.” She huffed so she wouldn’t cry and walked up to the wide porch.

  Instead of following her, Owen took the bundle and bag to the curb, placing them each in their respective piles.

  The cranky neighbors were going to love this. Now they were going to expect more. Didn’t Owen understand that he wasn’t helping? He was creating more work for her. Because she couldn’t do it all. She couldn’t be everything for everyone. She couldn’t be Mom, Dad, big sister, chauffer, cook, maid and laundress. She couldn’t be a girlfriend. That wasn’t even taking into consideration the hundred and one other things she let slide because there wasn’t enough of her to go around.

  “Hey? Hey, what’s wrong? Quinn?”

  She sucked down a breath that turned into a sob. She was going to suffocate under the weight of it all, and damn him, he wanted to help.

  “Quinn? Sweetheart, breathe. What happened?” Owen cupped her face in his chilled hands.

  “You.”

  “Me? What’d I do?”

  “Owen, I can’t do everything. I know you’re just trying to help, but...don’t you see? You’re creating more problems.”

  “I’m sorry? I don’t get it.”

  “The neighbors have been after me for years to clean up the yard.” She gestured at the pile of stuff at the curb to be picked up. “Now, they’re going to ride my ass even harder. And I can’t do this. I can’t do what you do. Don’t you get it? No, you don’t. You see a problem, so you fix it and you don’t consider that by fixing it you make more problems.”

  “I didn’t... No...”

  A jagged bolt of lightning rent the skies.

  Owen muttered something under his breath and closed his eyes. He dragged a hand across his face and the muscles at his jaw flexed.

  “It’s not that I’m not grateful, Owen. I just...I can’t do it all. I can’t. Don’t you get it?” The tears were hotter than her skin. She covered her mouth to keep from sobbing. The weight of it all was going to crush her.

  “Quinn?” Owen grasped her by the arms, his touch gentle.

  Damn him for...making her coffee. Fixing the sink. It was usually easy to chase people away, but not him. Why did it have to be Owen?

  He pulled her toward him.

  Of course.

  She’d tell him to stop being a great guy, she’d feel awful about it and he’d comfort her. There was no fixing this. No easy solution.

  Quinn did the most natural thing. She buried her face against his wet shirt and let him hold her. And damn him, he was there for her. She slid her arms around his waist, never mind that he was soaking wet and now she was, too.

  They stood like that for several moments. Neither speaking. Just touching. Like two familiar people.

  “You’re shivering. Let’s get you inside.” Owen stroked her back and gave her a little squeeze
.

  She let him take her keys, unlock the door, and usher her into her own home. Wet shoes went by the door and neither of them stepped a foot onto the carpet. Owen went to the stove, turned on a burner, placed a pot on the heating element, and poured a concoction of water, milk and hot cocoa powder into it.

  “You could just microwave it, you know?” she said.

  “Yeah, but this tastes better for some reason.” He glanced over his shoulder.

  There was something different about him. The sparkle in his eyes was gone. Snuffed out. Because she’d been an ungrateful bitch?

  “Owen? I really appreciate what you’re doing, how you’re helping out. I do.” She braced her hands on the counter between them, watching his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he stirred the pot.

  “But?”

  “But ,what?”

  “I hear a but,” he said.

  “But someday you aren’t going to be here to fix things for us, and I need to know how to do all these things myself. If I can’t do it, no one will.”

  “I’ll stop,” he said.

  She closed her eyes to keep from asking him to stay. If only for one more night, so she could sleep.

  “They’re going to fire me,” he said.

  “What?” She gaped at his back.

  Owen pivoted, leaning his hip against the stove. He didn’t look at her, he stared at the ground, but she could see his eyes. The lost, sad look she knew so well because she saw it staring back at her in the morning every day.

  “I needed to do something, and you said you wanted the yard cleared, so I did it. I should have asked, but...I needed to do something. It was the first thing I thought about.” He lifted his shoulders.

  “I’m... Oh my gosh, Owen, I’m so sorry. Why? Can you fight it?”

  “Yes, but I’m not going to.” He lifted the pot off the stove, snagged two mugs from the drain board and poured them full of frothy hot chocolate.

  “But...why?”

  “Because if I fought it, I’d make more work for the good guys.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes so sad. “Sounds like that’s the only thing I’m good at lately.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, Owen.”

  “You just said—”