Owen stared at the sunbeams on the ceiling. His eyes had popped open at ungodly o’clock and he hadn’t been able to convince himself to go back to sleep. It might have something to do with the curvy woman tucked in close to his side, snoozing away. It was awfully hard to think nice, soothing, go-the-hell-back-to-bed thoughts when her breasts stroked his skin with every breath she took. After last night, he figured it was best to let her sleep.

There were worse ways to pass the time.

He turned his head and kissed her brow.

He didn’t know which Quinn he’d get once she was vertical and had coffee. He’d like to think they’d continue forward, that she believed him when he said he was serious about this spark between them. One thing he kept forgetting, Quinn wasn’t nearly as old as she pretended to be. She wore the mask of parent and guardian so well it was hard to see the still very young woman under it all. With all she’d been through, it would be no surprise if she kept retreated back into the safe parameters that’d worked for her this long. If life had beaten him down the way it had her, he’d be loath to put himself out there, too.

He’d convince her. Over time if he had to. She was worth coaxing out of her shell.

Quinn muttered something in her sleep and squeezed his waist. He held still, not yet ready for the spell to break.

She’d let him into her safe space last night. Every other time he’d been here, or whenever they passed in the hall, she’d shut her bedroom door before he could see inside. Looking around, he could see glimpses from every chapter of her life. The measuring rod where someone had calculated her growth from nothing more than an ankle biter to the woman she was today. Framed pictures she’d drawn in crayon. Photographs of a teenage girl with a shy smile. Polaroids of Quinn and Kierra, a few with Chloe and Delilah. This was her life, in all its phases. She’d been forced to grow up too fast, with no time to really explore being an adult and find herself.

He wanted to...prop up her world. Give her moments to be carefree again. Remember that she didn’t always have to be Mom. That she could smile and laugh, too. She deserved that. Selfishly, he wanted to be the one to make her happy, to enjoy the uninhibited side of her.

For now, he’d take what she offered, even if that meant taking two steps back.

Quinn rolled over in her sleep, taking most of the sheet with her. Owen smothered a chuckle.

Perhaps it was for the best.

When she woke up, she might not want company. Besides, he wasn’t going back to sleep at this rate.

Owen sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt the Lego blocks with his toes. The morning light coming in allowed him to make out a clear enough path around the bed. He went slowly, feeling his way, but only stepped on one Lego. Minor miracle.

His clothes were still in a pile near the foot of the bed. He scooped those up, feeling for his phone, and made his exit. Quinn didn’t stir once.

In the hall he continued his careful escape, zigzagging down to the master room so as to avoid all the squeaky boards. Once behind the bedroom door he breathed a small sigh of relief.

Maybe he could get to the crawlspace before Quinn woke up?

Or perhaps he should get to work, asking those questions she said he could?

There was time to do both, if he timed it right.

He pulled out his phone to check the charge.

A text caught his eye.

It was from Zach Fakhoury.

To say that Owen and Zach kept to their respective corners was an understatement.

Zach had secrets. Owen wasn’t sure how Zach continued to be at the center of every crazy shit storm that came their way, but he was. Owen had asked Ian and only received a shrug. Jaxon knew Zach the best, and even he ignored Owen’s questions.

Call me.

Owen frowned at the text.

What would they have to talk about?

When Jaxon had started hanging around Zach, Owen had looked into the guy.

Either Zach had simply sprung to life as a twenty-year-old man, or he had a past so redacted Owen couldn’t find a shred of evidence about who he was or where he was from. A job this thorough was either through the government, or illegal. He’d sat on the information, unsure of what the right course of action was.

No matter how much Zach set off Owen’s gut instinct, to Owen’s knowledge he’d never done anything wrong. And that was the kicker.

Owen hit the button before he could over think the question. He pressed the phone to his ear and paced the room.

“Morning,” Zach drawled.

“You sure? You don’t sound awake.”

“More like, I haven’t been to sleep yet.”

“Something going on?” Owen had let himself get pretty tied up in the stuff going on with Quinn and Kierra.

“You tell me, man. You’re getting it from all sides right now.”

Owen didn’t reply. He was all too aware of just how bad it was for himself right now.

“Look, I’ve got some stuff you might be interested in...”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Information about the people who called off the SWAT unit from the Swan Palace.”

“How...?” Owen paced the room.

“I was helping Jaxon and the others at the time. It’s...”

“What are you into?”

“Nothing, just trying to help you out.”

“Why look into this? Why call me with it? Why stay up all night working on it?”

“It’s a long story.” Zach’s voice was grim.

“Well, tell me. I’m suspended. I have time.” No, Owen didn’t, but he also wanted to know. About the SWAT unit, about the dirty cops, about who—or what—Zach really was.

“I have Yuri Gabor’s client list. You want it? I’ll give you a copy.”

“How did you get a copy of Yuri Gabor’s client list?” Owen stopped, his whole body going cold.

Yuri Gabor was the product of the Russian mob. He was a Ukrainian gangster who’d risen to prominence, outgrown his handlers, and become a man who made the wildest fantasies happen. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as the price was paid.

“I’m your fairy godmother giving you a present. Do you want it or don’t you?” Zach asked.

“How does having it help me, if I can’t explain how I got it? What are you hiding, Zach?”

Zach blew out a breath.

Owen gritted his teeth.

“Fuck it. I can’t tell you the specifics, but when I was eighteen I made a deal with Gabor’s friend, Ogden. He got me and my sister to America, where we were granted asylum. Telling you more puts my sister at risk.”

“Shit.” Owen sat down.

“I’m giving a copy of everything to the FBI guy, Rusty. Not sure what he’ll be able to do with it, but I can guess.”

“There’s no way to explain me having it. Give it to Rusty.” Owen hated this, but in order to clean the house of dirty cops, they’d have to do one better than the guys trying to hide their underhanded dealings. If Owen took that into his own hands, he wouldn’t be the cop he wanted to be. “How do you find out this stuff, anyway?”

“If you don’t want the list, you don’t want to know how I got it,” Zach said.

“Right.” Owen bit back a sigh.

“Look, I know you probably don’t like me much, but I do try to do the right thing.”

“Yeah.” Owen had never gotten a bad vibe off Zach, just a secretive one. “Does Jax know everything? About you?”

“He does...”

“Is that why you two were on the outs?”

“Maybe.”

Owen liked Jaxon. Trusted his judgment. If Jax thought Zach was good, he’d leave it alone. For now. Until Zach gave him reason not to.

“All right, I’ll let you know what Rusty says, if you like?”

“That’d be great. Thanks, Zach.”

“Any time.”

The call cut off.

Owen wanted nothing more than to set his house to rights. The Seattle PD was his home. He’d come here as a young man to do something with his life. If he left like this, he’d never forgive himself. But it wasn’t his place to do that.

He could help Quinn though. He had an awful lot of questions to answer, and he’d start digging now.

Quinn stretched, seeking out the cool spot on the sheets. She rolled until she found it, burying her face in the pillow. She breathed deep, taking in the unfamiliar scent clinging to the fabric.

Lemons and spices. No, the lemons were from soap. The spicy, male scent did not belong in her room...

She knew that smell.

She frowned and pried one eye open.

That was...Owen. He smelled like temptation and home.

In her bed.

Quinn opened both eyes, but didn’t dare breathe.

Owen had been in her bed.

With her.

Her cheeks heated and she pulled the sheet up to her neck. Her heart hammered against her ribs to the point that she could feel her pulse in her throat. In her big toe even.

Was he still there? But he’d been on this side of the bed, hadn’t he?

She rolled onto her back, peering around the room.

No Owen.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. How she felt about having had a man in her room. Sex in her parent’s house.

Quinn covered her face with her hands.

Dear god, if Mom or Dad—

They wouldn’t care. Well, if Quinn were sixteen Mom would have cared. Dad would have likely skinned the poor guy alive. But Quinn wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was her house. She didn’t even know what her dad would say or do. But Mom? She’d probably be more concerned about using an outdated condom.

What time was it?

Where was Kierra?

Quinn sat up, her mind moving slower than the rest of her.

It was later than she’d realized, but not terribly late. Kierra was probably still passed out at Chloe’s house.

Owen was likely off fixing something, trying to sneak in more than their one project a day agreement. Besides, he was an early riser, like her most days. When she hadn’t had sex, been worn out or doing emotional loop-the-loops. Her sheets still smelled like him and soap. She eased back down into the welcome embrace of her bed. It was coming back to her now. It’d taken her an age to fall asleep with his body behind hers, that arm around her waist, holding her tight to his chest while he fell asleep. She’d been half afraid to close her eyes for fear that the whole thing might have been a dream.

Quinn swallowed and curled her toes into the sheets.

She’d slept with Owen. And not just slept, they’d done that after everything else.

Holy shit.

Quinn grabbed the other pillow and covered her face, laughing into it.

It was probably stupid and irresponsible to be involved with Owen. He was important to Kierra, which was why Quinn had resisted and resented him for so long. But...he wasn’t like anyone else. He was Owen. Different. Familiar in a way. Dependable, where others let her down. Being with him, talking to him like a friend, it felt right. And more so when they kissed, when he touched her, and in the moment she’d led him to her bedroom. When she’d nearly lost her nerve, Owen’s smiles, his kisses, they’d reminded her what she had to gain. A friend. A partner. Someone who wouldn’t disappear on her. Because he’d been right last night about more things. Neither of them were the type to sleep around. This, last night, him being here, it meant something to both of them.

She peered over the pillow.

Nothing was different.

There were no, Owen slept here, banners pinned to the wall. Granted, she wouldn’t put it past him to nail one to her headboard if she pretended nothing had happened.

But she felt different.

It was probably from the orgasm. Or orgasms. Plural.

“Oh, god.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

Chloe was going to have a field day with this. Quinn could avoid her, but what was the point if she couldn’t talk to someone?

She rolled over, searching the night stand for her phone, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Dang.

She must have left it in the kitchen.

What if Kierra had called? What if she wanted to come home? Chloe would never let Kierra go without some sort of all clear signal, and Kierra wasn’t the type to disobey and walk home on her own.

Just because Quinn had had a magical night, it didn’t mean she got to slough off her responsibilities today. She got to her feet and found enough clothing to make herself presentable. Shorts and an oversized T-shirt weren’t exactly sexy, but they were comfortable.

She scraped her hair back into a messy bun and braced herself for the morning after. Would things be different? Or the same? She didn’t want to ignore what had happened, but she wasn’t exactly experienced in what came next. Her few boyfriends had always grumbled about her spending a night, always going home early. Their resentment toward Kierra factored into breakups. But it wouldn’t be like that with Owen.

Quinn took a deep breath.

She needed to keep her mind here. Now. Not in the future or the past. The maybes would drown her. What was going to happen now?

Was she going to step out the door to a five-course meal or a full-blown remodel? It was always an adventure around here.

Quinn opened the bedroom door.

The smell of coffee perked up interest from her stomach.

She tiptoed out to the kitchen.

Owen sat at the table, three different pieces of paper in front of him. From the way he was frowning at them, she had to wonder what they’d done wrong. Was he about to Mirandize them? He didn’t glance up at her, which was a small blessing. She was having enough of an issue remaining calm. Her stomach wasn’t just hungry now, it was doing acrobatics, which in turn made it hard to breathe, and her head was a bit wobbly, not to mention the irregular beating of her heart.

It’s just nerves.

She pulled a mug out of the cabinet and helped herself to the coffee.

Easy does it...

Look at her, acting grown up about not just last night but this morning. It was a silly thing to be proud of, but it was also a first. She simply did not allow men over. Period. Much less meet her sister. But Owen didn’t follow the normal rules of her life, which was half her problem with him.

“Come look at this after you get coffee, will you?” he asked.

“What’s all this?” Quinn shambled toward him and peered over his shoulder, cradling her dark brew between her hands. There was a normalcy to this that helped soothe her nerves.

“This is my calendar, I printed it out showing only the instances when Kierra called me about the monsters in her window. After that first call I started documenting it, trying to see if there was a pattern, but I didn’t have all the pieces. This is your house calendar from the fridge, and—I’m sorry—I took your calendar out of your purse.”

Oh, dear...

An anxiety of a different kind wrapped around her. She stared in helpless horror at the pages spread out.

She didn’t give two fucks about Owen digging through her purse. Not when the answers might have been there all along.

“What are you seeing?” Quinn sank into the chair next to him and leaned against his shoulder. It was like watching a movie unfold. She was nearing a corner, and whatever was around it would tell her a lot about the scary thing hunting her—but at what cost?

“She called me at seven o’ two. Here you have, pick Kierra up late, no time. And over here you have MB, also no time...” He gestured to the string of numbers and letters.

It couldn’t be.

It just couldn’t.

“Shit,” Quinn whispered. She set the mug down and covered her mouth with her hands. She trembled, the full weight of what she’d done ready to tumble down on her.

“Here again,” Owen continued, “Kierra calls me, you pick her up from a friend’s house, MB again. It’s every third occurrence of the MB. What is it? Some code for your dad? Work?”

“The battery project.” Quinn stared at the closest calendar, her mind and body going numb. “I worked it out so that two or three times a week Kierra can get extra tutoring or she goes home with a friend and I’ll get an hour or two to work on the battery. It isn’t anything to do with Dad at all, is it? It’s me. This is all my fault.”

She slumped back in the seat, staring forward.

Oh, she’d wondered.

The demand for the key was a pretty big clue, but it made no sense.

If she’d never dove into the battery project, would any of this happen?

Had she known, deep down?

Was she being foolish and ignorant by pressing forward?

She was a secretary. A glorified coffee girl. She had no business playing at creation, no matter how small or fanciful she thought it was.

It was all her fault.

She’d dismissed Kierra’s fears, but she’d been right all along. It was Quinn who was wrong.

“The key?” Owen asked.

“If it’s connected to this,” she gestured at the calendars, “it’s got to be the key to the safety deposit box. But why? What’s in there that isn’t already done?”

“Your mom, she did work for the DoD, right? Maybe whoever wants it thinks she hid something in it? Or perhaps it’s still valuable?”

“Yeah, well, my key does nothing for them without the other two, and Dad’s is halfway across the world.” What good would one key do a person? Not only were the notebooks virtually useless, drained dry by Karen and Quinn to keep HI-Co afloat, but getting them out was a hassle.

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” Owen said. He grasped her hand and squeezed. “First, Kierra.”

“Shit. Right. Yes. Kierra first.”

“She’s going to her grandparents, where she’ll be safe. Now, your calendars, these are printed from a digital one, I’m guessing, right?”

“Yes. My work computer. I sync it with Kierra’s on-line school calendar. It’s the only way I know what’s happening.”

“Okay, I’d like to have Zach take a look at them. He’s really good with computers and he might be able to tell us if someone else is accessing your computer calendar. Clearly someone out there knows when you’re working on your battery—that’s what MB stands for?”

“Magnesium battery, MB.”

“But I thought...” Owen stared at her, a little wrinkle on his brow

“You thought—what?” Quinn dropped her gaze to her lap. “You thought I was an inventor, then I tell you I’m just a secretary, now I tell you I’m working on an invention. Confusing, isn’t it?”

“Whatever your job title is, it doesn’t matter. That’s not what defines you.” Owen slid his hand around hers and squeezed. “You’re working on a battery, something that could be revolutionary if you do it right, and that’s a threat to someone’s bottom line. I’m getting the bigger picture, I think. Things are beginning to make sense. We just need to figure out the who. Why is obvious.”

Quinn nodded. Later there would be questions, of that she had no doubt. He was right about one thing, they needed to protect Kierra first and foremost. As far as what made sense though, nothing was clear to her.

“The numbers and letters?”

“Combinations of things I’m trying. It’s my code. Tells me what version I’m on.” She had her own notebook, similar to her mother’s, and she kept her notes in that. Each version of the battery got a set of pages for her to record how it went. Document what to do better, how to improve upon it, and so forth.

Quinn had felt more and more confident about her progress, but this was crazy. What was it Pearl had told her? She couldn’t quite remember. Something about the gifted being snapped up or snapped in two. Had Pearl been trying to warn Quinn?

“Okay, so someone knows when you’re working on it and they’re poking around, maybe because they think you have your mom’s notebooks?” Owen’s voice was soothing, but her nerves were too raw.

“Oh my god, this whole time... It was my fault.” Quinn covered her mouth with her hand. She knew Owen was trying to get at something, he had a point, she could see it sparkling in his eyes, but her mind was circling the proverbial drain on this one.

“Quinn. Quinn? Listen to me.” Owen took both her hands in his and tugged on them until she faced him. At some point he’d turned away from the calendars to look at her. “This? All of the stuff that’s happened? It’s not your fault. Got it?”

“But if I hadn’t—”

“No.” He shook his head. “You have a right to create and do whatever you want within the bounds of the law. That means that whoever is after your battery or your mother’s notebooks or whatever they’re after, that’s on them, and we’re going to figure out who it is. Got it?”

Quinn nodded. It didn’t make her feel better. She’d known the pushback from the major companies out there was serious. Pearl had warned her. But Quinn had remembered her mother’s notes and thought...this was her chance to do something. Proof of concept wasn’t a production quality design. Years would still be spent on research and development, once someone bought the initial prototype—if anyone was interested.

She should have remained at her desk, doing her job. Then they wouldn’t have a single, functioning prototype to the HI-Co name, and in a few months the company would file for bankruptcy. That would be it. It’d be over. When Kierra graduated, she’d have to go out into the world, slaving for someone else to make their dreams come true, and in twenty or thirty years she’d be able to run her own lab. Maybe. If she hadn’t burned out by then.

“Hey, Quinn?”

“I just—I need a minute. Please?” Quinn got up and paced across the dining room into the living room. She stared at the blinds, a perfectly white screen for her mental reel of greatest mistakes ever.

When Dad insisted on giving control of HI-Co to Karen, Quinn had agreed. Karen knew more about running a lab than Quinn did. Over the years, Quinn had watched Karen make one poor business choice after another. It was too late to change the past, but she’d thought with enough raw determination she could make the future better. That if she held on, if she super glued the whole company together enough times, they’d stick, but nothing ever worked.

Quinn should have listened to Pearl. How many times had she pointed out that Karen had no place in management? Karen wanted to take everything Quinn’s father could give them and squander it away, from what he paid into the company to the money he gave Quinn. Karen was destroying the legacy Quinn’s mother had left behind. And for what? To make her two, darling protégés look good?

“Karen Fairchild, Molly McClain and Anna Beth Cooper. All three of them have access to my work calendar,” Quinn said over her shoulder.

Karen had always treated her like the unwanted stepdaughter. She’d steered Quinn away from pursuing her dream degree. She’d pushed Quinn to settle. Whenever someone had to make sacrifices it was always Quinn, never Karen or Molly or Anna Beth. If someone wanted her out of the way, it would be them. Her father would do whatever Karen said, if Quinn wasn’t there to give objection.

It was great and all to imagine that the big companies were after little old her, Quinn Schaeffer, for her innovative idea. The truth of it was, the betrayal was likely a lot closer to home.

“And they are...?” Owen spoke from right behind her. Not too close that he was in her personal space, but close enough that if she wanted him, he was there.

“Karen was my mother’s best friend. When Mom started HI-Co, Karen was the first person she hired. Over the years Mom grumbled about Karen, and if they hadn’t been such good friends, I think Mom would have fired her a few times, but...I don’t know. Something must have happened that she never told me about. When Mom died, she willed a fifty-one percent ownership to Dad, and the rest is split between Karen and I. She hadn’t yet rewritten her will to include Kierra. I always thought that was so strange. So unlike Mom, but it’s just like Dad, so I guess it makes sense.” Quinn sighed and steered her mind back to the topic at hand. “Molly and Anna Beth were two of Karen’s students during her brief stint teaching at the university. She hired them out of school and has basically made HI-Co their sandbox of pet projects.”

“What would they gain by getting the notebooks or the battery?”

“Karen could get the notebooks whenever she wanted, so long as Dad was around for her to get his key to the safety deposit box.” That’s what didn’t make any sense to Quinn.

“Then the battery?”

“Why not create their own? They’re smarter, more experienced than I am. If they just applied themselves to the projects that pay, we wouldn’t be where we are. Why harass me about tinkering? Unless Karen wants to scare me out of the company? But that doesn’t make sense, either. None of it does.” She turned toward Owen, as if he would have an answer to her question.

“Could they want your design for themselves? Pass it off as their handiwork?”

“Maybe?” Quinn shrugged. “Molly and Anna Beth are petty enough about stuff, I could see them doing that if they thought it would work. But, they aren’t the killer type. They’ll be bratty all day long, but they aren’t dangerous.”

His brow was lined with concern and his lips set into a hard line.

“Come here.” He tugged her into his arms and gave her a squeeze.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered.

It wasn’t fair, either.

“Come back to the table, please? I need your eyes to show me the pattern.”

Quinn let Owen lead her to the calendars. He held her seat while she resituated with her coffee, then pushed the papers in front of her.

“Talk me through when it began. Delilah’s party was the first I’d heard of it, but you’d already had cops out, right?”

“Yes, we’d called the police out the first time. It scared me pretty badly, then a second time. The third time I didn’t bother, which was when she found you.”

“Hungry?” Owen turned toward the kitchen.

“I don’t think I can eat.”

“Sure you can.” Owen went about pulling down the skillet and a baking dish. “What changed? Did anything happen in the month or so before Kierra thought she saw someone?”

Quinn stared at the calendars.

They didn’t go back far enough, or else Owen might have noticed it.

“I was renting a space at the university. Not much, but they have labs there. Karen wouldn’t let me use the HI-Co lab because she thought it would set a bad precedent for letting the secretary have a work area, but not the assistants. I rented a...it was pretty much a closet.”

“Why, when you have the basement?”

“Because...you’ve seen our house. If I’m here, I’m needed. It’s almost impossible to do anything except whatever has to be done. If I was going to work at all on a project, it had to be out of the house where I could focus. Pearl recommended the campus labs. They had space that’d opened up.”

“Then why the move? Why come back home?”

“I took a pay cut, and giving up the lab was how I was able to do it.”

“Wait—a pay cut? Why?”

“We couldn’t pay the employees.”

“Things are that tight?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you considered that someone might be sabotaging you purposefully? Would anyone stand to gain if HI-Co went under?”

“No one who matters. Karen’s run HI-Co into the ground. The only things of value would be the equipment, and even that I’ve taped, glued and wired together to keep us running. I have to stop working on this. Now.” She’d...put it on Facebook. Toss the pieces in the garbage and turn a blind eye to whoever went digging.

“No way, Quinn.” Owen shook the spatula at her. “This is your dream. No one should be able to steal that from you.”

“Yeah, well, they broke into my house and scared me badly enough that I don’t want it anymore.” Her first responsibility was Kierra, and if her dream put her sister in danger—she was done. No questions asked, no fighting, nothing.

Owen couldn’t make her keep going. She could get a job anywhere, for better pay, with her work experience. HI-Co was simply her baby. The one remaining line to her mother in this world, but it wasn’t worth dying over.

“Quinn, look at me?” Owen had his hands full with whatever culinary magic he was working. “Don’t make any decisions right now, okay? Right now, everything is scary. Once we know more, we’ll be able to better assess what’s going on.”

She nodded.

“Oh, and your phone was ringing when I woke up. I plugged it in and put it on silent.” He gestured at the charging station.

It could be Chloe.

Quinn picked herself up and crossed to the charging station.

“Oh, fuck me.” She groaned.

“We did that last night.” Owen chuckled.

“Not that kind of fuck me.” She covered her face with a hand, the heat rising to her cheeks.

Owen hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her into the kitchen. He pressed his lips to hers, reminding her that not everything was death and destruction.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Karen summoned me.”

“It’s Sunday. Tell her to fuck off.”

“I can’t. Not yet. Not until after the conference.” Without Quinn, the whole place really would fall apart. They couldn’t keep their bathrooms clean, much less figure out orders and everything else.

After the conference was over, after Quinn kissed her dreams goodbye one last time, she’d put herself first. Even if that meant leaving HI-Co. Her first responsibility might be caring for Kierra, but she didn’t have to die doing it.