Quinn Schaeffer shut the front door and flipped the lock. It didn’t feel like enough. She wanted a drawbridge, moat and a dragon to protect them, but right now all she was getting was a metal deadbolt.

Her head felt like a herd of elephants had trampled her for the last two hours. Not to mention, her shoulder was killing her. The throbbing hadn’t stopped yet, though Kade had promised it would. What kind of crazy luck did she have that the paramedics who responded were sort of her friends?

She sucked in a deep breath and leaned her back against the door. She stared at the living room, then the kitchen, and finally the hall. Everything looked so...normal. And yet, it was no longer their safe space. Someone had broken in—and for what? She still wasn’t sure.

At least the intruder was gone.

The whole house had been searched, first by the cops, then Owen and Ian, plus the rest of their group. She knew they wouldn’t leave a cushion unturned if they thought that man was still there. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Why hadn’t she told Ian yes when he asked if she wanted to stay at his sister’s place?

Right, because what about the window? She couldn’t just leave her house open like that. No matter that the doors were locked, the window was still busted out.

God, what a disaster.

She scrubbed a hand across her face, wincing when she pressed at the bruise too hard.

It was late.

Kierra was still awake.

They both needed to be up earlier than usual tomorrow, on the off-chance Dad would call from whatever remote corner of the globe he was at now. Quinn wouldn’t hear the end of it if they missed even one attempt at making the connection. How was she going to tell him about this? Did she? Dad wouldn’t care. He wasn’t coming back just because they were scared. It wouldn’t make any difference what she told him.

Quinn braced her hands against the front door.

What did she need to do right now? This instant?

It was easier to focus on the immediate needs than anything else.

There was something she should be doing, but she couldn’t think of it. Her brain was scrambled. She was wrung dry. Exhausted. And that was before whatever had happened tonight.

He wanted the key.

She’d told the cops she didn’t know what the intruder was there for. She hadn’t mentioned the key. Even as she said it, she’d felt Owen’s gaze on her. He’d heard, and he wasn’t outing her.

She didn’t know the guy had wanted that key.

He could have meant another key, for all she knew.

Besides, if he was after that key, it would do no one any good. None at all. A person would need all three.

Damn Owen.

And thank god for him, too.

Quinn would have to make amends. Say something. He’d come without hesitation. Kierra called the man whenever she got scared, this was just the first time there was reason to. Quinn hated to admit it, even to herself, but tonight she was so very grateful to the obnoxious detective. A few more minutes, and who knew what that man might have done?

She swallowed and leaned against the door, the strength in her arms going out. She could feel bits of herself scattering, the trembling deep in her core.

She was going to cry.

She hated crying.

Quinn sucked down a deep breath.

Owen, for all the frustration he caused her, had come through for them. Quinn owed him a thank you. Or something.

What if Kierra was right?

What if someone had been watching them?

What if this was just the beginning?

Quinn took the three steps to the old, worn-out sofa and sank down. She was pretty sure that was one of Kierra’s action figures digging into her butt, but she didn’t care.

Why would someone be watching them? What was in the safety deposit box that could possibly be of value anymore? That was the only key Quinn had that went to something of value. Even her car wasn’t worth much.

She swallowed and pressed her hand to her chest.

She didn’t want to think too much, but she had to. Because the safety of her sister might be at stake.

They had nothing. Or next to nothing, these days. There wasn’t anything to steal in the house that couldn’t be gotten at a thrift store or garage sale already, which was in part by design and part necessity. Which left...knowledge. The single most dangerous weapon of all. If someone got all three keys, there could still be a thing or two worth the effort in the box. It was a long shot to think that there was something in those journals that they hadn’t already made or tried to make.

If it wasn’t the box and mom’s journals, then it had to be Dad.

The journals, while sentimental and brilliant, were no longer cutting edge. They’d wrung the pages dry of all but a few designs.

It had to be Dad. Right?

Nothing else made sense. Mom’s information, her research, no one would know about that anyway. They’d kept the journals a company secret since her death. Besides, anything of true value had been confiscated by the DoD long ago.

That meant it couldn’t be the safety deposit box key.

This was Dad’s mess. Again.

He was the reason someone had broken in here and terrorized them. Because he was into something big and bad.

Quinn wasn’t allowed to know what he did, only that he was a Department of Defense contractor. Highly dangerous and lucrative enough to keep them all afloat, but only if she and Kierra were willing to go it alone. That was how Quinn wound up assuming the role of Mom at the age of twenty.

How was she going to do this?

She buried her face in her hands.

She was twenty-six. Managing a sinking research-and-development company. Playing house to a kid sister ten times more brilliant than she was. How could she possibly keep doing this?

Days like today, Quinn wanted her dad back. But he wasn’t coming home. He wouldn’t be coming through the front door to save the day and tell her it would be okay.

That was Quinn’s job now, so she had to stop throwing this pity party and get on with it.

She’d put Kierra to bed and then clean up the bathroom.

What the hell was she going to do about the window?

Quinn groaned and rubbed her face, this time avoiding the bruise that seemed to be spreading across her cheek. It was the middle of the night. No one could come fix it.

A metallic thump resonated through the house. She could feel it in the floor boards.

What the hell?

Quinn pushed to her feet and strode down the hall.

The sound grew louder.

A...hammer?

She peered into the bathroom.

Instead of the broken-out window, a rectangle of plywood now blocked their rather epic view of the neighbor’s hydrangeas, a constant reminder that Quinn had no green thumbs.

“Who...?” She couldn’t think of a single person besides Ian who’d do this for them, and Ian wasn’t in any shape to be helping anyone right now. “Kierra?”

“She’s outside.” The voice was muted by the wall and plywood between them, but there was no doubt who it was out there.

“Oh...no,” Quinn groaned.

Not him.

Not Owen.

That damn detective.

That damn, sweet, interfering man.

Quinn closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

Owen was a good guy. He meant well. And every so often, Quinn could feel him getting under her skin, making her smile. That was what was dangerous. Quinn couldn’t like Owen. She didn’t have time for a distraction in her life, not when she was one misstep away from ruination.

Their own father couldn’t stick around. Why would a detective with a hero complex?

Quinn stared at the light overhead, willing the tears to go away.

Part of her wanted to bawl and let him do it. Fix things. Handle the whole situation, because she didn’t know what to do. But she couldn’t. This was her house. Kierra was her sister. And this was her mess. She could handle this. Just like every other time Kierra had called Owen in to come over and check for monsters under her bed.

This had to stop. Now. Before he crushed Kierra’s precious little heart. If Quinn did one thing right in this world, she wanted to protect Kierra from the pain she’d felt. Broken dreams and hearts were never the same. They never healed right. There were always pieces missing, and after a while, there were so many parts gone that there wasn’t anything left to put back together.

Quinn grabbed the flashlight from the hall closet. The little pink princess one of Kierra’s was gone.

Gee, wonder where that was?

It was time to put on her bitch panties and set some ground rules. For Kierra’s sake, and Quinn’s heart. She couldn’t let herself like Owen, no matter what he did or how much they might need help. She couldn’t fool herself into believing Owen would stick around.

Quinn marched out through the back door and around to the side of the house.

Sure enough, Kierra had her pint-sized flashlight pointed at the side of the house. Owen braced one hand against the wooden board and tapped the hammer against the nail with the other.

Christ, this was a disaster.

“Sh, the neighbors are going to be pissed.” Quinn peered over her shoulder. The relationship with the people on the street was tenuous at best. Their yard was never clean enough, the paint on the house was chipped, their lack of attention to curb appeal was bringing down the neighborhood—Quinn had heard it all.

“I already talked to them. That’s where I got the plywood.”

Quinn gaped at Owen’s back.

He’d spoken to her neighbors?

And they hadn’t chewed him out for...breathing oxygen?

Quinn stood there, staring at Owen’s shoulders, his bulging arms, the glint of the light off the head of the hammer.

Was he serious?

He had to be. That plywood hadn’t come from her house.

Quinn bit her lip.

Was this happening?

For once, could one problem be solved without creating two more?

It was just boarding up a window, but it was so much more. It was another hour of sleep. A problem that could wait to be resolved. A confrontation she wouldn’t have to have today.

Because of Owen.

She swallowed and wrestled with this strange sensation to hug him.

His tendency to take over a situation was coming in handy for once.

“Sh—crap,” Owen muttered.

The plywood slid a bit.

“Here, let me hold that.” Quinn rushed forward. She might not like Owen’s barging into her life to save the day, but right now, she was grateful she didn’t have to figure it out on her own.

“Thanks.” Owen repositioned the board. “Just press here. I’ll get this corner, then that one, then the top. Should hold until tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Quinn said quietly while Owen was still close.

He glanced at her, those piercing blue eyes slicing into her soul.

She didn’t give him enough credit. Despite his too-helpful intentions, he was a good guy. And therein lay the danger. He deserved to be trusted, but that didn’t mean he’d stay around. She couldn’t figure out how to trust him without putting herself on the line. She’d never learned an in-between.

“It’s fine,” he said just as softly.

Owen hammered in the first nail, they traded positions and he drove home the second. He positioned the ladder—she didn’t even want to know where he’d gotten that from—and got the top of the board secured.

She’d need to take off work to get the window fixed. Not getting it done wasn’t an option. Did she have money for that? Was staying at the house a safe idea? Chloe didn’t have room for them anymore, not with Ian, Taylor and Stacey living there now. Besides, Taylor was pregnant. They needed two more people under that roof like they needed another puppy.

Mamaw and Papaw had been after them to visit. Maybe Quinn could send Kierra there for a little while. They had the internet now, so it wasn’t like Kierra’s lessons would be interrupted. One of the things the high-priced school offered was the ability to remote in for school, via a camera system. If she breathed word of it to their grandparents, the ticket would be bought and the car ordered.

“Quinn? Did you hear me?”

Owen’s face filled Quinn’s vision. She could smell the subtle scent of man, sweat, hops and the light cologne he favored. He’d arrived with the cavalry. Literally.

“Hey.” He squeezed her arm. “Let’s get Kierra inside, first, and then you can fall apart, okay?”

Quinn pulled away from him.

She wasn’t going to fall apart. She never fell apart. She wouldn’t start now.

“I’m sorry for ruining your evening,” she said without a single waver to her voice.

“I’m glad we got here in time.” He smiled.

Did he even realize what he was doing? Or was it intentional? He was a natural good cop, inspiring people to trust him. Like him. It would be all too easy to fall for a man like that, which was why Quinn resisted. She wasn’t foolish enough to think they were the only female friends of his who needed help. She’d met his type before. They meant well, but they left a trail of broken hearts.

“Come on, Kierra.” Owen held out his hand to her little sister.

Together, the two practically skipped around the house to the back door. Quinn followed in their wake, feeling old and tired by comparison.

She wasn’t certain she had the money for fixing the window and the next round of bills. She’d already used most of Dad’s money for the new roof that they had to have. There just wasn’t much left and it wasn’t like she brought in enough to cover it all.

Quinn should never have given herself the pay cut at work. It wasn’t like she’d made that much to begin with, but that little decrease to her own salary had meant the difference between being able to pay the employees and not. She couldn’t lose her mother’s company, too. If scraping by meant saving it, Quinn would figure out how to make things work.

What was she going to do tomorrow?

How was this all going to get fixed?

She locked the back door and jammed the door stop under it. Dad had shown her that trick, a low-tech way to stop, or at least slow someone down, coming through a door. The only problem was, their would-be-burglar had come through the windows instead.

“There we go,” Owen said. “Now, step over it and brush your teeth, while I get the glass cleaned up.”

Quinn peered down the darkened hall. Owen stood there in just his white undershirt and jeans, a broom in one hand, dustpan in the other.

What was he doing here?

He’d already saved them.

Shouldn’t he be gone already?

Couldn’t he leave so she could cry herself to sleep in peace?

“I can do that.” Quinn plodded toward him.

“I’ve got this. You should sit, put some ice on that cheek. Don’t worry about a thing.”

On a normal night, when there weren’t monsters to worry about, she’d have flipped him the bird and pushed him out the door. He was too comfortable in their house as it was. But tonight...

They’d needed Owen. They might still need him. And therein lie Quinn’s problem. She and her little sister had to be self-sufficient.

“I don’t want to go in the bathroom.” Kierra’s thin, small voice nearly broke Quinn’s heart.

She’d told Kierra to go brush her teeth. That’s when it’d started.

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut.

She’d snapped at Kierra, too exasperated and too tired to listen. Then the window had broken and there’d been a man there. It’d happened so fast.

“I’m right here, Kierra.” Owen braced one hand on the bathroom door and leveled that hero’s smile at the little girl. “I won’t let anything happen to you, promise.”

She was grateful he’d scared off whoever was coming through the bathroom window, because she’d seen her life flashing before her eyes in those moments. But he wouldn’t always be there to protect them.

Quinn left Owen watching over Kierra’s nightly routine. Maybe he’d calm her down better than Quinn could. It seemed that whenever he came over, Kierra slept better anyway, which was saying something. Dad hounded Quinn about giving Kierra something to make her sleep, but Quinn didn’t like the idea of pumping an eight year old full of sedatives. What would it do to her still-developing mind and body?

One thing at a time.

First, tonight. Then tomorrow. She’d take it one day at a time.

Quinn couldn’t handle a mountain bearing down on her. She had to pick and choose.

She’d need a list, and then she’d tackle what she could and work away at the rest when she could. As time and money allowed.

That’s what Mom had taught her. A problem was always fixable. Solutions were out there. She just had to look at it from the right angle. Of course, she’d been talking about her work, the inventions she created, not domestic nightmares.

God, Quinn missed Mom.

One minute she’d been there, coaching Quinn through her first round of core classes. They’d had plans for her to work on a project that summer, lay the groundwork for her career, and then Mom had been gone. Her light snuffed out, and with it, Quinn’s future. Everything she’d dreamt about. But that didn’t mean it was the end to Kierra’s dreams. Quinn’s might be over, but she could still fight for what Kierra wanted. Ensure she had a better future.

Quinn ducked into the kitchen and braced her hand against the counter.

Life wasn’t fair.

It didn’t stop Quinn from sobbing into a dishtowel so neither Owen or Kierra would hear her.

Mom would know what to do. She’d always known how to handle things. From Dad to finances to—everything. Mom had that touch. She could work magic. And she’d done it with that silly, grimacing smile that Quinn had learned from her.

You can do anything with a smile, even a bad one. That’s what Mom used to say.

Quinn missed her so much.

Owen backed out of Kierra’s room, holding his breath.

Poor thing was exhausted. Hopefully her dreams weren’t too troubled. If they were, he’d be here to chase the monsters away. But first, he had to win Quinn over to the idea.

He pulled the bedroom door mostly shut and tiptoed down the hall to the living room.

Quinn sat at the dining table piled high with text books, a pad of paper and a dishtowel in front of her. Her dark eyes were downturned, but he’d made a study of the varying browns, golds and greens in their depths. He’d glimpsed pictures of her Indian mother, and could see the likeness between the two. But that mouth? The jaw line? She got that from her military father, no doubt about it. Quinn was a beautiful blend of two worlds.

“I’ll handle it from here,” she said without looking up.

Owen braced his hand against the kitchen counter.

Here goes...

“I want to stick around,” he said.

“For what purpose?” Quinn peered up at him, those no-nonsense eyes of her cutting him down to size. She was barely out of college, and yet she had this air about her. Older than her years. More capable than someone twice her age. She was remarkable, a bit intimidating, but everyone needed someone. Owen wanted to be that someone. At least tonight.

Did he lay it out there for her?

Quinn, like Kierra, was wicked smart. If he didn’t tell them now, they’d figure it out later. Usually, he wouldn’t want to unnecessarily alarm a victim, but in their case, forewarned might help.

He pulled out a seat at the table and sat down, bracing his forearms on his knees. Quinn wasn’t going to like hearing any of it, and while he didn’t think sitting would make it go over any better, at least he wouldn’t be looming over her. Sometimes it was all about the delivery.

“What happened tonight...it’s highly unusual.” He kept his voice low on the off-chance Kierra hadn’t been asleep. He’d learned the hard way how Kierra’s memory worked. If she heard him say this, she’d never forget it. Ever. She was a walking, talking recorder. It didn’t mean she always understood what was said, but someday she might.

Quinn, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised.

“What I’m saying is, whoever that guy is, he might come back.” Owen spread his hands out. “I’d like to stick around, be here just in case.”

“I’m fully capable of dialing 9-1-1, Owen.”

“Did you this time?”

“...no.”

“I’m guessing one of the guys did. What if they come back? What if it’s two of them? What are you going to do then?”

“Why do you care so much?”

Because it was the right thing to do. He opened his mouth and then closed it. It went deeper than that. Blake had pointed it out, otherwise Owen wouldn’t have realized the connection.

“I just do. I don’t want to see anything happen to either of you.” Besides, he was suspended without anything better to do. This would give him purpose.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Owen. I know you want to make things better, but have you considered that you’re making them worse?”

“Worse?” Where the hell did she get that idea from?

“Tonight... If you hadn’t been here...” Quinn’s mouth worked silently. She closed her eyes and shook her head, gathering herself. There were cops who couldn’t pull themselves together the way she could. “Thank you. For taking care of the window and calming Kierra down, but... What happens when you aren’t here? When you don’t answer the phone when Kierra calls anymore? What happens when you’re busy with your own life? Have you considered what happens then? How it will hurt Kierra? We have to figure out how to handle our own problems.”

Owen opened and closed his mouth again.

Where the hell had that come from?

Quinn set her pen down and turned to face him.

“I know you want to do the right thing, the good thing, but...maybe that’s not being here.” She delivered the line like she’d practiced it.

“If you don’t want me here, all you have to do is say so.” Owen tried to ignore the voice screaming in the back of his mind to stay. Instead, he stood and gently pushed the chair back into place.

Quinn stared up at him, the calm mask she wore for the rest of the world slipping. Those wide, dark eyes begged him to stay and he would. Under this roof or out in the yard. He wasn’t going anywhere, but he also wouldn’t force his way where he wasn’t welcome. Someone had broken into Quinn’s home, and she was trying to put it back in order. Regain some semblance of safety. That included shoving him out the door. He wouldn’t stand in the way of that.

“That’s not what I said, Owen,” she whispered.

“Look,” he braced his hands on the back of the chair, “ever since we met, ever since Kierra told me what she was afraid of, you’ve been fighting me on this. Now, it happens, and you’re coming up with other reasons for me to not be here. Just say it. Say, Owen, I don’t want you here.”

Quinn stared up at him.

He could look into her eyes all night long.

They were captivating.

He’d never met anyone with so many flecks of color in their eyes. Browns, golds, a heck of a lot of green, some blue. Behind it all, there was a flickering flame, that intangible something that kept Quinn going. She was one of those strong-as-steel women, and he admired that strength a hell of a lot, but his gut screamed at him to stay.

Lines creased her brow and the corners of her mouth turned down. She wanted him gone but couldn’t bring herself to say it. He could take a hint. She’d been through enough he wouldn’t push her more.

“I’m going to go get my car. I’ll do a drive through the neighborhood, and I’ll be out of your hair.” He’d pull into the driveway of the house four doors down. It was for sale and he wouldn’t bother anyone there. “I’ll come back tomorrow and make sure the tools get back to your neighbor.”

Owen pushed off the chair.

“Good night, Quinn.” He turned toward the front door.

“Stop, Owen.” Her chair scraped against the floor.

He peered over his shoulder at her.

She’d let her hair down at some point. He hadn’t seen it down since the infamous princess party. The long, curling waves taunted him. He wanted to touch them, see if they were as soft as he imagined. Usually her hair was up in such a severe bun or ponytail it aged her. He liked her like this. Relaxed. Comfortable. The only thing he didn’t like was that shiner the bastard had given her. It was hard to make out on her tanned skin, but he’d become something of a study in the ways of Quinn. He saw the marks for what they were, and he hated them.

“You can sleep on the sofa, if that’s what you want. It’s not comfortable, and I’m likely to wake you in the morning.” She stared at his chest, eyes haunted. “But Kierra will sleep better if you’re here.”

“Quinn, if you don’t want me here, I’m not staying.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves. If I say that, you’ll leave and spend the rest of the night sitting in front of the house in your car.” She peered up at him, a strange smile curling her lips. He’d like it if he thought it had anything to do with him, but he was pretty sure it didn’t. “I...would also—stay? Please?”

“If that’s what you want.” He didn’t pump his fist. A sofa was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the front seat of his car.

“I want to go to sleep, wake up and realize tonight never happened, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” She glanced up at him, her smile bitter.

Who in Quinn’s life had let her down?

Whoever he was, Owen hoped the bastard got his knees bashed in.

“I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. It’s not going to be comfortable.”

Owen hadn’t been sleeping anyway. At least this way there was some good coming from his insomnia.

A few moments later, Quinn presented him with a quilt and pillow, both of which had seen better days.

“Sorry it’s not...nicer.” She shrugged.

“It’s perfect.” He tossed them on the sofa and turned back to Quinn.

Who did she tell her fears to? Or did she bottle them up inside? Something like this had to bring out the worry wart in all of them.

“You going to be okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said without hesitation or thought.

“It’s okay to be angry, scared, worried...”

“I’m fine, Owen.”

“Hey?” Against his better judgment, he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her wrist, giving it a squeeze. “I’m worried about the two of you. I’m sorry if that’s coming out bad.”

“You’re fine. Everything is just fine.”

“I’m sure it is.” Fuck it. She’d probably kidney punch him, but his gut wasn’t often wrong. “Come here.”

He pulled Quinn’s wrist and she came to him slowly. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and tucked her head under his chin. Her body remained tense, rigid, but she didn’t push him away. He stroked her back from shoulder to hip and back again. The tension knotted under his hands was worse than anything he’d felt before.

Quinn had been strong for herself and Kierra for so long that she didn’t know how to accept help.

She bent her neck after a few moments, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Then she sucked in a deep breath that shook her body. That small tremor seemed to rattle her being. She muffled the sob in his shirt, and he pretended not to hear it. She was human, and she hurt. He closed his eyes, holding all the words he wanted to say inside. That wasn’t what she wanted, and he knew it. Words were cheap, it was action that carried weight with Quinn.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and she leaned into him, granting him these vulnerable moments. It was trust, of a sort, and it proved his theory.

Someone had hurt Quinn Schaeffer, and all those angry glares, the harsh words, they weren’t for him. They were for that other guy, the one who’d left scars on her heart. Owen might never wear her down, they might never be friends, but he wasn’t going to give up on her. Or Kierra. Quinn Schaeffer was stuck with him.