Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1)

by Sidney Bristol

  Her very presence was putting people at risk. Her sister. The others.

  The right thing to do...

  Taylor didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore. She’d tried doing what she thought was the right thing and nearly died. Right and wrong had become subjective things, or at least that was what Taylor tried to tell herself.

  She didn’t think Ian was going to see it the same way.

  2.

  Ian closed the door, mindful not to slam it. No, he carefully closed it and took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to think anymore. This day was too weird as it was.

  But her? He’d never expected to see her here.

  Taylor Anne Carter.

  Not a complete lie, but so far, everyone he’d interviewed had called her Taylor. He couldn’t fault her for being cautious. In the wee morning hours, she’d run off while he was passed out cold, an empty husk of a man after she’d wrung him dry. He wouldn’t go so far to say it was the best sex of his life, he’d been a little too tipsy for that, but it’d ranked pretty far up there. Which led him to believe that she’d planned to do exactly what she had. Maybe she’d done it before? Was he just another guy in a long line of men? Was that her thing?

  He turned to study the back of her head. The light gleamed blue against her hair. She’d taken the guest chair across from the desk he’d been set up with to conduct his interviews.

  This was a job.

  It was time he got his head out of his ass and focused on what he was being paid to do. Which was to dig into Taylor’s past, find out if she had secrets.

  “Taylor, I’m Ian Kelly.” He skipped the desk chair and instead picked the chair next to her. He turned it to face her and perched on the edge.

  “I know who you are.” She glanced sideways at him.

  “So, we’re acknowledgin’ that, are we?”

  “Why not?”

  “All right then.” For some reason, her answer took away the rawness. She wasn’t trying to hide him, what they’d done. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and openly studied her.

  Anne—no, Taylor—stared straight ahead.

  “You recently moved to Seattle?” His background checks had yielded the least on Taylor. There were any number of reasons for that.

  “That is correct.”

  “Where’d you live before comin’ here?”

  “Here and there.” She shrugged.

  Ian hadn’t forgotten the gist of what she’d said. Yeah, he’d been pretty boozed up himself, but he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes when she’d said bad things followed her. Taylor was a woman on the run, that much he knew. But from who? And what? Were the threats associated with that threat?

  There wasn’t a person under George Wachtel’s roof without a record. Even his daughter had a CPS file. He didn’t know what was in it, but that didn’t matter. This whole place was a disaster waiting to happen. It was just a matter of time.

  The cook, Cat, had half a dozen prostitution charges from five years ago, and after that, three arrests for other petty crimes. One look at Cat and Ian had to wonder what her drug of choice was. She was too jumpy, her eyes not quite right, for her to not be on something.

  Two of the security team members had been charged with domestic violence. The whole team had a variety of violent crimes attributed to them or outright charged.

  Even George had faced some scrutiny, though nothing appeared to stick to the man.

  And then there was Taylor.

  All he could find was a parking ticket in Arizona, a couple employment records in Seattle, and before that—nothing.

  If Ian had to guess...and he was...Taylor was running from something.

  Hell, her real name might not even be Taylor. She could have created this identity to protect herself. Or she could be a criminal like the rest of George’s people. Except, that didn’t seem right. She wasn’t like the others.

  She hadn’t known who he was when he’d chatted her up at the bar. Her reactions, what she’d said to him in an unguarded moment, those were real. She might be in trouble, but she didn’t strike him as the kind to cause trouble. No, she was likely the victim here.

  What had she said?

  Bad things follow me.

  If I don’t watch my back...I’m scared what’ll happen.

  I can’t trust anyone anymore.

  “Will you stop staring at me?” Taylor snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest, spine straight, leaning away from him. A defensive posture. Because she saw him as another enemy now.

  “Sorry, I’m tryin’ ta puzzle out what’s goin’ on here. I was hopin’ you could help me?” He kept his tone easy. Gentle.

  “Isn’t this the part where you ask me what I was doing at whatever time?”

  “All right, if that’s what you want to do. Where were you last Monday, at about nine o’ clock?” He leaned back in the chair, aiming for a relaxed pose in the hopes that he could put her at ease. He needed someone in the house on his side, someone he could work with. The rest of the staff he didn’t trust in his sight, much less out of it.

  “I was putting Stacey to bed. She’s supposed to go down at eight, but she doesn’t fall asleep until more like nine or ten.”

  “I’dn’t that the truth?” He chuckled. “My niece just turned eight. I long for the days when she’d pass out at seven and sleep through the night.”

  “Your niece?” Taylor glanced sideways at him, as though that fact surprised her. What? That he was more than a ready and willing cock at a bar? He had a life? Family? Had she even thought about him?

  Fuck, he should have stopped worrying about her weeks—months—ago, but she’d looked so haunted, so scared that he’d wondered and fretted.

  “What? You don’t already know?” Ian snorted.

  “Uh, no, sorry?”

  “You haven’t seen the Dancing Trinity Hall Princes?”

  “The—what?”

  “Do you get online at all?”

  “In what time?” Taylor chuckled. “I get up anywhere between five and six to make sure someone is awake when Stacey gets up. I oversee her morning routine, I’m her live-in teacher, tutor, and friend. When she goes down for a nap, I do the errands so I’m back before she wakes up.”

  “She still naps?”

  “No, but her father thinks she should, so she has to at least pretend to.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “Then I juggle supervising her playtime and the rest of the things on my list for the day. There’s not exactly a lot of downtime.”

  “Is that why you ran out on me then? No time for more than a fuck?” Why the hell did he care so much? She was clearly alive and managing herself just fine. Yet it still rankled him. He’d worried, and she hadn’t even considered him.

  Taylor turned toward him, a storm brewing in her eyes. Well, bring it on.

  Taylor wanted to smack that look off his face. No, she wasn’t proud of how she’d acted. Running out on him wasn’t a nice thing to do. But she’d lost track of time. Laying in his bed...she’d felt safe, warm, hidden. Just because she got an evening out didn’t absolve her of her morning responsibilities to Stacey. Not that it’d been any of his damn business. Taylor was a girl he’d picked up at a bar, not his girlfriend. He was not responsible for her. They hadn’t promised each other anything.

  “Are you finished?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, do you have any questions about my work, where I was, or something relevant to why you’re here? Because if you don’t, I’ve got a long list of stuff that needs to get done today.”

  “Has George or any of his staff ever threatened you?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Shit. She’d kind of hoped he wouldn’t tie her to that threat. Sure, it was for her, but the ones she’d snagged before anyone else saw them had been vague enough she doubted they could be tied to her.

  “So, they have?”

  “No. Why would you ask that?”

  “Just tryin’ to get to the b
ottom of things.” Ian shrugged, drawing attention to the suit jacket straining across his wide shoulders.

  She’d love to smack him with the bottom of a pint glass right about now. What was he digging for? Maybe he hadn’t uncovered her real name yet? If he didn’t know where she was from, then he hadn’t discovered the truth. How long would that last? She hadn’t paid for a completely new life, just a bit of covering her tracks. Even that had cost all but her firstborn child.

  “Taylor, if I had to guess, you’re hidin’ somethin’ an’ I’m goin’ to find out what it is.”

  “My secrets have nothing to do with George.” But the threats... Those were all her fault. She’d messed up. Big time. But they were supposed to go away. That’s what she’d paid for. If she could get a little time...

  “You’re lyin’.”

  “I am not.” She was. Oh, God, she was. And he knew it. Sweat broke out along her spine and under her bust line.

  “Did he hurt you?” Ian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “Did one of his goons try somethin’?”

  “No.” She flinched. It wasn’t an outright lie. No one had hurt her or tried anything, but she didn’t exactly stick around after Stacey went to bed, and Taylor always locked her door. There’d been a few nights she’d even slept in Stacey’s room, because she had a bad feeling something was going to happen and her first priority was making sure it didn’t happen to Stacey. Taylor would rather use herself as a human shield to protect the girl, than allow harm to come to her.

  “You can tell me, Taylor.”

  Right. Because she’d totally keep her job and built-in security if she admitted that sometimes the head of George’s security made remarks that left her uncomfortable. Or that she was pretty sure Cat was selling drugs out of the pantry as a side job. Taylor didn’t buy the whole, “I need to go visit my sister every other day for ten minutes,” routine Cat was pulling. And they’d received too many back door knocking “deliveries”.

  Ian reached across the desk to a stack of files. Background checks? That slim little one on top had to be hers.

  “You know what these are?” he asked.

  “Your list for Santa?”

  “These are all the reasons why I need someone on the inside here to help me understand what’s goin’ on. You know what I see when I look at this place?”

  “A bingo club?”

  “It’s a matter of time until somethin’ bad happens, and there’s a little girl under this roof who deserves to be safe in her own home. Now, I don’t know if she’s in direct danger, but lookin’ at these”—he shook the files—“makes me wonder how long until someone does a bad thing. And what if that little girl gets caught up in it?”

  Taylor glanced away.

  He was like her conscience come to life.

  She tucked her arms in tighter, hugging herself.

  How many times had she wondered the same thing? How many times had she wondered if her crazy bid to protect herself would mean harming Stacey? But what else could she do, now that she was here? She’d made a mistake. In hindsight, Taylor shouldn’t have come near her sister, but now that she was here, she couldn’t bring herself to leave Stacey in this hell hole alone.

  Trying to be a good person, to do the right thing, was what had gotten her here in the first place. She’d learned the lesson her mother had tried so hard to teach Taylor before she died.

  Her clock began to beep, signaling the end of Stacey’s piano lesson.

  “We’re done. I’ve got to go get Stacey started on her afternoon lessons.” Taylor pushed to her feet and turned toward the door. Whatever time she had left under George’s roof belonged to Stacey.

  A large, warm hand closed around her elbow. His touch was familiar, but no longer welcome.

  “Taylor, please trust me?”

  “How can I? You just said yourself that we’re all bad here.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  She pulled out of his grasp and fled the room, her heart racing.

  Ian likely suspected her now. He’d be smart to, because those threats George was worried about? They weren’t for him. They were for her.

  Ian finished writing up his assessment. It was hours later, and his interview with Taylor still had him pretty raw. The more talking he did with the other staff members, the more concerned he was for the safety of the women under George’s roof. Hell, if Ian’s sister wanted to work here, he’d likely pick her up and lock her in a closet until she came to her senses.

  This was one of those jobs that seriously sucked.

  The leadership of Aegis Group was really good about only taking the jobs with the kinds of people they wanted to work with, and not risking the lives of their employees needlessly, but from time to time one slipped through the cracks. George was one of those. On paper, he wasn’t a bad guy, but after a little digging, Ian was pretty sure George had people on staff to take the fall for him when things went south. And this was the person responsible for Stacey’s care?

  Ian was going to have a hard time leaving this one, but he’d only been hired to come in and evaluate the staff. Figure out if the threats were coming from someone on the inside. By his estimation, it could be any of them. Even Taylor, if he was brutally honest with himself.

  He checked the time.

  George had said he’d be back a little after six to discuss what Ian had found out, which meant any moment now.

  Something bad was going to happen under this roof, it was just a matter of when. If he had his way, he’d take the women out of here, but that wasn’t the way things worked, and he couldn’t save everyone. It was a hard fact of life.

  Ian tucked the files under his arm and grabbed the briefcase he’d hauled with him for this circus.

  The house was one of those older, grand constructions in the heart of Seattle. It took money to not only own, but keep up a house of this age, and from the looks of things, George had taken updating it seriously. From hardwood floors to new windows and all the bells and whistles, it was clear George had money. But where was it all coming from? Ian found it hard to believe the man’s property dealings made this much, but what did he know?

  He glanced into the formal living room as he passed.

  Taylor and Stacey sat on the floor, a couple of dolls between them.

  God, what he wouldn’t give for a reason to yank those two out of there. Even if Taylor hated him, even if she didn’t want to speak to him, at least she’d be safe.

  Ian tapped on George’s open door and stepped over the threshold.

  George Wachtel was a fifty-eight-year-old man doing everything in his power to look ten years younger. From the clothes to the Botox, he was hiding the evidence of aging, but that was one thing no money could stop.

  “Ian, come in. Close the door, will you?” George tapped at the keyboard a moment longer before leaning back. “Well?”

  Ian shut the door while he considered his next words. His assessment was full of bad news, likely not what George wanted to hear. Ian crossed to the desk and sat in the only vacant chair.

  “I’ve got a number of concerns regardin’ your staff.” Ian laid his legal pad on top of the files with his list of highlights. “Do you have someone do checks on your staff before you hire them?”

  “I do.” George folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I don’t hold a person’s past against them.”

  “You’re aware of the numerous criminal charges your staff members have been convicted of?” Ian managed to deliver that question in an even tone.

  “Their past is not a concern, it’s a motivation to do better.”

  Was he serious?

  Ian shuffled around his thoughts. He needed to tread carefully. If George had no concerns about the safety of his daughter in close proximity to men with violent crimes in their past, well...what else was George okay with? Ian didn’t want to think too hard about that.

  “Given their collective pasts, the threats could be coming from—or even for�
�any of them. Did you get the police report on them like I asked?” Ian had asked repeatedly to see the threats George had received or speak to the officer handling the case, but George had blatantly ignored those requests, making Ian suspicious about this whole thing.

  “No reason to involve the police. No harm, no foul, am I right?” George shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

  “Sir...the threats you described for me were extortion. Give me what I want or I tell what I know, correct?” Ian couldn’t even be certain of the nature of the threats. All he had to go on were George’s words, which he was beginning to find suspect. What kind of person hired a PI and didn’t report the incident to the cops?

  The answer was simple.

  George Wachtel had something to hide.

  “Here’s the thing, young man.” He leaned forward, pitching his voice low and winked. It was a ploy. George wanted Ian to believe as though he were conspiring with him. “I’m trying to close a multi-million-dollar deal that will allow me to convert a block of buildings I own into government housing. A lot of people are unhappy about it because they want the deal, and I suspect these threats are from them to slow or stop the process. You following me?”

  “I follow.” He liked this situation less and less the more he learned about it.

  “The deal should be finalized in the next few weeks. What if I paid you to stay on, keep on top of this situation for me?”

  Zain would say no.

  The big boss back home would say no, too.

  But that would mean leaving Taylor and Stacey on their own, with these people, in an arguably dangerous situation.

  Zain was going to kill him.

  “I’m not sure about that, Mr. Wachtel.” Ian doodled a circle within a circle on his notepad.

  “I promise to make it worth your while. You could stay here. Cat is a wonderful cook. You’d have unrestricted access to the staff to continue your investigation.”

  Ian tilted his head to the side, as if he were considering those as perks, instead of standard operating procedure. When Aegis was brought on for something like this, to handle it from beginning to end, they did a lot more than dig into a person’s staff and personal lives.