Owen pointed his car out of the airport. Quinn turned and peered through the back window, as if security would allow the little girl to run out and wave them off.

“She’ll be fine.” Owen reached over and squeezed Quinn’s hand.

“I know, I just...” Quinn straightened, sliding down in her seat. “Worry.”

She turned her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. It was a gesture that surprised him, but he wasn’t about to let go. He’d figured that whatever he and Quinn were to each other, it would evolve in time. For now, he was willing to be patient. Take what she offered and wait for her to trust him with more.

“This is the right thing to do,” she said as though to an unasked question.

“It is.”

“Then why do I feel like a failure for having to send her off?”

“You aren’t a failure, Quinn.”

“I know. And it’s not like this wasn’t planned anyway. With the crunch week coming up, things are going to be crazy. This is what’s best for Kierra.”

Owen opted to keep his mouth shut. No amount of arguing with Quinn would alleviate the self-inflicted guilt she was hoarding. It didn’t matter that he agreed this was the right thing to do to keep Kierra safe, Quinn would have to accept it in her own time.

“Address?” He handed her his phone.

“Sorry. I can just tell you how to get there.” Quinn pulled her legs up into the seat and leaned on the center console. “Thank you, again, for doing this.”

“I care about you and Kierra.” He glanced at her, willing her to accept that. He was involved with their lives. Invested.

Quinn shifted, her gaze sliding to the floorboard.

He didn’t intend to push her for any kind of a commitment, but they also hadn’t paused to discuss last night. What had changed. How they were different.

She seemed to have accepted him in her life, but the jury was still out on whether or not she’d really let him in.

He’d never know, if he didn’t talk about it with her.

“Would you like to talk about last night?” he asked.

“What is there to say?”

“Quinn...”

“What?” She shifted in her seat, letting go of his hand.

This wasn’t going to happen.

He turned off the highway and into the first gas station.

“But, we just got gas...” Quinn frowned at the pumps.

“We’re not getting gas.” He turned to face her. “We’re talking.”

Quinn stared at him with eyes gone round.

She looked ready to bolt out of the car. That wasn’t what he wanted to do at all. He reached over and took her hand in his.

“Talk to me, Quinn, please? Don’t make me beg.”

“What do you want me to say?” Her cheeks were turning a rosy shade of red.

“I don’t want you to say anything. I want to talk.”

“I don’t know what to talk about.” Her shoulders dropped and she finally met his gaze.

“Okay, do you regret last night?” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing one knuckle, then the other.

“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Owen hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until that one word was out of her mouth.

“Well, that’s a relief. Did you...enjoy yourself?”

“Yes...”

“This isn’t an interrogation, you know?”

“It feels like one.”

“Quinn, I like you. I’m not playing games. I don’t want you to feel like you have to like me or that you can’t tell me to fuck off or anything.” He didn’t know how to more plainly tell her the ball was in her court.

“I wouldn’t tell you to fuck off, at least not seriously. I can lose my temper, I own that, but...you’re too important to Kierra—”

“This is about us, not Kierra. You always put her first, which is admirable. I respect that about you. Right now, I want you to be selfish. Think of yourself right now.”

“You’re too important to Kierra and me. Let me finish a damn sentence before you jump down my throat about it.” She arched her brow, some of that trademark Quinn prickly sweetness coming back. “And Kierra will always come first, but I do like spending time with you.”

She glanced down, her cheeks now a brilliant shade of red.

Quinn blushing.

It was a thing he was enjoying.

“I like spending time with you, too. But I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I’ll admit that when it comes to relationships and men, I’m probably not the most adept, but I wouldn’t... Last night wouldn’t have happened out of a sense of I owe you. Am I making sense?”

“Yes.”

“Are we done with this conversation now?”

“For now.” He’d won a small victory. She’d get her respite, because tonight he fully intended to tempt her with more.

Owen leaned across, cupped Quinn’s neck in his palm and pulled her closer. There was no doubt about it, she leaned in, kissing him as much as he kissed her.

Progress.

He liked it.

Owen let go of her and adjusted his jeans. He was human and male, not in the least bit a saint. Comfortable, he shifted into drive, zipping toward the HI-Co lab under Quinn’s direction.

He didn’t like bringing her here on a weekend, but from the little they’d gleaned, there were several people at the lab, and he only had a small amount of time to cash in on that favor with Zach.

The brick building housing the lab looked innocent enoug. He’d have never guessed this was where research and development happened.

Quinn showed him in through the front door. She handed over her work laptop and the charging cable, her frown increasing.

“Do you really think this will tell us anything?” she asked.

“Leave no stone unturned. It can’t hurt to have Zach look at it. He’s good at this stuff. Scary good.”

“Okay.” Quinn sighed and glanced at the door. “You better go, before Karen catches you with it. If it’s her...”

“Keep your phone charged. I’ll be back soon, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Quinn saluted him.

The brat.

He pulled her in for an all-too-brief kiss before backing out the door.

He was looking forward to a night alone. Not that it would all be spent between the sheets. Without Kierra around, he’d like to dig deeper on the calendars, figure out who was behind this.

Owen hit the road again, this time pushing the speed limit.

Zach had some time to mirror the drives so he could poke into who might have accessed Quinn’s calendars, but there wasn’t a big window to work with. It would help if Quinn thought she could take the machine home with her, but according to her, it would draw too much attention.

He’d work with what he could.

Owen pulled up to the curb outside of Zach’s house. He’d never ventured to the other man’s house, but it was closer than Trinity Hall to HI-Co. He grabbed the laptop and checked his phone.

One missed text from Quinn.

Going to the store for supplies. I’ll be a while. Meet me there?

He frowned at the messages.

She’d said nothing about leaving the lab.

His protective instincts were to rush over there, and—

Owen could hear Quinn’s voice in the back of his head, What? Watch me shop?

He chuckled and put one foot in front of the other.

It was the middle of the afternoon, she was in public, everything would be fine. He was making problems out of nothing.

Owen jogged up the stairs to Zach’s condo and lifted his hand. He didn’t knock once before the door opened.

“Hey, come in.” Zach stepped back. “I’ve got less time than I thought.”

“Sorry to bother you. You sure you have time for this?”

“My stuff’s upstairs. This way. Don’t let Ares trip you.” Zach gestured to the ground.

A hairless cat waved its ball-sac at him, tail twitching in the air.

“Never pegged you for a cat guy.” Owen stepped over Ares, who promptly scurried forward.

“Ares lives to be in the way. If you step on him, it’s his fault,” Zach called from the stairs.

Owen managed to navigate the distance from the door to the stairs without incident. Ares seemed disinclined to follow him upstairs, which was a minor relief.

“In here,” Zach called out.

Owen followed the sound of typing into Zach’s home office.

“Laptop?” Zach patted his desk and pulled out a cable. “How’re Quinn and Kierra doing?”

“Good. Kierra’s off to visit her grandparents while we sort out what’s going on.” Owen leaned on the desk, watching Zach’s hands fly on the keys. “How long will this take?”

“Less than I thought. This thing has next to no memory. There it goes.” Zach leaned back.

As if that were some sort of signal, another hairless cat leapt into his lap.

“No offense, but your cats...” Owen tilted his head.

“Careful, Hera is sensitive.” Zach stroked the back of the cat. “You and Quinn, huh?”

Owen shrugged. He wouldn’t deny it, but he couldn’t put a name to it either. He was invested in her, and however that played out, he wanted to keep something alive between them.

“I passed along the information to our friend,” Zach said, changing topics without so much as a blink.

“Not my problem anymore.”

Owen found himself less and less concerned about the state of his almost-former job. Of course, when it came time to pay bills he’d sure as hell care, but right now, Quinn was all that mattered.

Technology was a wondrous thing. It made the world smaller, targets easier to track and traps easier to set.

The tracking virus Hansel’s new boss had installed on Quinn’s work computer had infected her phone. He had a real time view of everything she did, said, and where she was—so long as there was battery life. That was the real hiccup. The woman’s phone was hardly ever on, but it was now.

He watched her type out a request for a ride. One of the Uber rip-off services.

This was his chance. It was pretty damn near perfect.

He wouldn’t kill her, not yet. He needed Quinn to get to Owen.

All he wanted to do was scare her a bit. She and the detective were a little too cozy. It was time to shake things up.

Hansel zoomed in on her confirmation message, noting the driver’s name and pick-up time.

Shit.

The would-be-taxi was closer than he’d expected.

Hansel turned the key in the ignition and shifted into drive. In less than a minute, he turned into the HI-Co lot and eased up to the door.

Quinn Schaeffer stepped out, unsuspecting as ever. The woman had no self-preservation instincts. This was going to be too easy. He should have to work for these things a bit harder.

He got out of the car, tugging his cap low on his face.

“Jake Cooper, ma’am. Here you go.” He shook her hand then pulled open the door to the back seat.

“Thanks, Jake. I haven’t seen you in the area before.”

Fuck. He hadn’t considered that she’d be familiar with other drivers.

“New to the area, miss. Where to?” He kept his face low. After he was done with her, she’d have problems remembering her name, much less his face. Still, caution was what kept a person alive in this game.

He got back behind the wheel and eased the vehicle back out onto the street.

Quinn seemed content not making conversation, which was fine by Hansel.

“Are you going to need a return trip, ma’am?” he asked.

“Oh, no. My friend’s picking me up here, thanks, though.”

Hansel had seen the messages. He was aware of her plans. Which made this even more perfect. He’d gift wrap the lady for the detective, letting him know that this—all of it—was for him.

“Um, we just passed the shop. It’s right there.”

He turned down the side street and eased to a stop along the curb. The dumpster at the corner of the building provided a nice amount of cover from anyone going in and out of the building.

“Thanks for the ride.” Quinn’s voice wavered.

So, the woman had some sense between her ears after all.

She pulled at the door handle.

Hansel whistled and turned, pulling out the canister. It was his special concoction. Something he’d worked up. Sort of a signature. She leaned back, eyes wide and gasped...breathing all that lovely gas in.

Quinn could feel her body failing her. Her eyelids drooped. Her hands couldn’t quite grasp the door no matter how much she told them to. She couldn’t make her arm work to get out of the seatbelt. Even her lungs felt as though they were refusing to pump air into her body.

Was this the man? The one who’d attacked her?

That one had had a beard. There’d been hair sticking up out of the mask. This man’s face was clean shaven. All she could see of him was a strong jaw before everything faded to black.

The darkness was all-consuming, sucking the light and hope out of her.

She was dying.

He was killing her.

This man, he was going to snuff her life out.

Who would care for Kierra? What about HI-Co? And Owen?

At least she’d told Kierra goodbye... If she’d known it would be her last, Quinn would have taken more time. She’d have hugged her again. Bought her that candy bar. Something.

But Owen, he’d never know that she more than liked him. She needed him to push her outside of her safe bubble and live. He’d never know now...

There was so much she’d never experienced. Things she’d never done, because everything was about keeping Karen happy, HI-Co operational and raising Kierra.

Death was oddly painless.

She’d expected...to hurt. Some sort of ache as her organs shut down and her cells stopped cold. But this was more like sleep. That was a blessing, perhaps. When that man had his hands wrapped around her throat at the house, she’d been so full of fear, it’d hurt to breathe. This was gentle by comparison.

“And she’s out,” a voice said in the darkness.

That was...odd.

Shouldn’t there be a light or a welcoming chorus of angels? She’d never given much thought to the afterlife. She was too focused on surviving day by day, but this seemed rather anticlimactic.

The darkness shifted, like a boat on an angry ocean.

Wow. That wasn’t right, was it?

Something clicked. A car door?

The sounds of cars on the road and an airplane overhead. Music from the hardware store blared overhead.

Quinn wasn’t dead. Yet.

Fear clawed up inside her, a panicked beast needing to be free.

She tried to open her mouth, to scream, say something, but her body was not her own anymore. She was trapped in this meat suit called a body, with no way to cry out for help, call Owen, anything.

Owen paced back down the width of the store, peering down each and every aisle.

Where the hell was Quinn?

She’d said she was on her way here, so where was she?

Had she gone back to HI-Co without telling him?

That damn phone of hers was always dying. If he thought she’d let him, he’d get her a new one just so he could worry a little bit less. Maybe he’d convince her to use a burner. Something that wouldn’t leave her stranded like this.

A man in a red vest carrying a clip board rounded a display.

“Excuse me?” Owen stepped into the man’s path. “I’m looking for a customer. Quinn Schaeffer, five six, brown hair, hazel eyes, tan—”

“Quinn. Yeah.” The man frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I was supposed to pick her up, but I don’t see her.”

“I haven’t seen her today.” The man tucked the pencil behind his ear, his frown deepening.

“She come in often?”

“Couple times a week, maybe once a month? Depends on what she needs.”

“Do you have security cameras?”

“Let’s ask Marty, first. He’s been on register one since we opened.”

The man led Owen to the register where a young, gangly guy was ringing up customers.

“Marty, you seen Quinn today?” the man asked.

“No. Is she coming in? I’ve got something to show her.”

The man in the vest turned back to Owen. “If Quinn came through those doors, Marty would have seen her. He’s been pestering her about looking at something he’s making. The guy’s got a sixth sense just for her. Is her car outside?”

“She was supposed to get a taxi.” Owen stared out the front windows.

It wasn’t a busy street, the clients more industrial than residential. Cameras were not likely going to be of much use.

“Maybe she got held up and I’m worrying about nothing,” Owen said mostly to himself.

“I’ll keep an eye out for her. Looks just like her mother.”

“You knew Quinn’s mom?”

“Sure did. She opened her lab around the same time we moved into this space. Hate what’s going on over there.” The man shook his head. “You need anything, holler.”

“Will do, thanks.”

Owen walked out through the glass sliding doors.

“Where are you?” he whispered.

Maybe he’d try her phone again.

It rang earlier, so perhaps it wasn’t quite dead.

He jabbed her speed dial and pressed the phone to his ear.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

He pulled the phone away from his ear.

Ring.

His phone rang.

The answering ring was fainter.

He rounded the corner of the building, jumping down the small retaining wall.

A dumpster sat up against the side of the building, piles of trash around it.

Ring.

Owen reached for a gun that wasn’t at his side.

He edged around the dumpster, holding his breath—not because of the stench, but because of what he might find.

Quinn dead.

A body.

The worst images of his career in homicide supplying the worst humanity could do.

He saw her hand, first, so pale against the black garbage bags.

“Quinn!”

Owen’s training went out the window. He was a man staring at the woman he loved sprawled in the trash like a ragdoll. He went to his knees, cupping her cheek for a moment while he felt for a pulse with the other.

Her chest rose and fell. Her breathing was shallow, as if she were asleep.

She was alive.

Dear god, she was alive.

“Help? Hey, I need some help over here,” he yelled.

Owen jabbed at his phone, hands shaking. He needed to call this in. Get help. His mind knew the process, but all he could think about was holding onto her.

Quinn was alive, but what had happened to her?

There was no blood, no strangulation marks, so what? She hadn’t just fallen here. She wouldn’t crawl into the refuse for a nap. So what happened?

“Oh my god.” Marty, the cashier, rushed to Owen’s side.

“Here, call 9-1-1.” That was beyond Owen’s ability right now. He couldn’t tend to Quinn and get help.

Marty took the phone, freeing up Owen to focus on Quinn.

Her pulse remained steady. He opened her mouth, looking for something that had maybe obstructed her breathing, but nothing was there.

Owen picked Quinn up, doing his best to be gentle, and lifted her out of the trash heap.

Whoever had done this, Owen would find them.

He laid her on the sidewalk, stretched out. He yanked his arms out of his jacket and bunched it up to slide under her head. He didn’t dare move her. If something was wrong, jostling her might make it worse. Besides, he also had a crime scene to think about.

“They’re on their way,” Marty said, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“Quinn? Can you hear me, Quinn?” Owen took her lifeless hand.

Her fingers curled around his. Not much, but there was the slightest bit of response.

“You hold onto my hand, Quinn Schaeffer, you hear me? Hold on.”

Seconds ticked by. People trickled out of the hardware store, some coming to stare. Marty muttered answers to questions Owen couldn’t pay attention to. He kept talking to her. Words. Nonsense. His throat tightened. His eyes prickled.

Quinn’s hand contracted a bit more.

He couldn’t lose her.

Not like this. So soon.

“That’s a girl,” he whispered.

Sirens wailed. A red and white truck whipped around the corner at the end.

Before the ambulance had even stopped, the back doors were flung open and an all too familiar person leapt out.

Owen breathed a brief sigh of relief.

“She’s breathing, pulse is steady and she’s begun to respond. No obvious injury, no blood.” He rattled off the facts, doing his best to keep what he was feeling out of it.

Kade went to a knee. There was no hi, how are you, long time no see, just business.

There was no one else Owen would trust Quinn’s life to right now. Kade was the best. Years of combat medicine made him uniquely qualified for dealing with the seriously fucked up and mysterious.

The other paramedics brought out a stretcher.

Quinn’s lashes fluttered.

“Quinn? Quinn, you there?” Owen reached for her hands.

“Hold on.” Kade held out his arm, keeping Owen back.

“Hey, Quinn. Can you hear me? Look at me if you can, please?” Kade leaned over her. “There’s something on her face. Looks like powder.”

She groaned and her hand flopped on the pavement.

“All right, let’s get loaded up. Brace?” Kade reached out and took a neck brace to secure her. Kade glanced at him. “You coming or staying?”

“I should stay.” Owen had no idea who’d be processing the scene. If it was someone he could trust to do a thorough job. He should be here, to at least take notes.

“Okay. I’ll call you.”

Owen straightened, watching Kade load Quinn up into the ambulance.

Was this the right call? Should he really stay here? If he wasn’t on scene to see what they found, he might never know. He wasn’t a cop anymore, not really, and what they’d tell him versus what he’d see for himself were two different things. What evidence there was to tell him who did this and why.

The ambulance motored off.

She was beginning to come around. She had to be okay.

“King, what the hell are you getting yourself into?” Officer Morgan shook his head. His partner, Wu, was right behind him.

“A lot, actually.” Owen scrubbed his hand across his mouth. Thank goodness it was them. Honest, good people.

“What can you tell us?” Morgan asked.

Owen started at the beginning, leading with the home invasion, then the events of the day.

“You know you can’t assist,” Morgan said.

“I know.” Owen hated this, but he’d hold back if it meant finding out who was after Quinn.

“But I wouldn’t mind your eyes on the scene. Just—don’t touch anything, okay?”

“You got it.”

“I’ve got a phone over here.” Wu knelt and snapped a few pictures of the phone with his. These days, they could document a crime scene from top to bottom before the forensics unit was dispatched, if needed.

“She was supposed to take a taxi here, some sort of Uber rip-off.” Owen walked the trash line, looking for anything discarded that might be out of place.

“You know which one?” Morgan asked.

“There’s an app for it on her home screen. She said she uses it because there’s more drivers in this area.” Owen peered at a scratched-up can of...something. “Hey, does this look green to you?”

Morgan crouched next to him, studying the can.

“It does, kind of,” he said.

“Kade said there was a powder on her face. She looked a little green, I just thought she might be sick.” Owen itched to bag the item.

Morgan beat him to it.

“Got a phone number for the driving service. Calling now.” Wu pressed his phone to his face.

These were the things Owen would do if this were his crime scene. Granted, for him to be called in there was always a dead body. This time he was grateful everyone was still breathing. For now.

He needed to get to the hospital soon. When Quinn woke up, he wanted to be there.

Wu paced away from them as he spoke to the person on the phone.

“Hey, Owen?” Morgan edged closer.

“Yeah? Sorry.” Owen shook his head.

“There’s some talk. About why you got suspended... Things have been a little nutty lately...”

“People talk, Morgan.” Owen shrugged.

“Yeah, not like this. Did something happen?”

“What do you want to know?” Owen dragged his focus back to the moment. Morgan was getting at something.

“The place that Ukrainian guy used to do his business out of, we got a SWAT hit on it that was called off. Looks pretty fishy if you ask me.” Morgan tilted his head.

“I got something,” Wu called out.

“Yeah, it does, but that’s not my problem anymore.” Owen slapped Morgan on the shoulder. He turned toward Wu. “What is it?”

“Driver dispatched to where your girl was never picked her up. Said he waited there fifteen minutes, but she was a no show.” Wu grimaced.

“Then who picked up our vic?” Morgan asked.

“Quinn. Her name is Quinn.” Owen curled his hand into a fist.

This was going beyond a home invasion.

“I want a goddamn update,” she growled into the phone. This was her life they were messing with. It was either her, or Quinn.

“I’m taking care of it.”

She hated working with people she hadn’t trained. This man was a loose cannon. She hadn’t seen it before, but she did now.

“Details. I need to know what you’re doing.” She paced to the window and looked out at the lab.

“I rattled her cage a little.” He sighed into the phone. “Haven’t found the key or any notebooks, so I’m hoping this scares her into bringing it out.”

“What—did—you—do?” Was a straight answer so hard?

“I drugged her. Left a little love note for her to find later. Just a scare tactic.”

“This job does not require theatrics. You kill her. You get the key. Maybe the notebook. That’s it. If I wanted a full-on production, I’d have hired someone else.”

“That’s not how I work.”

“You agreed to do a job.” She shook her head and closed her eyes.

She was going to have to do this herself.