Quinn should have stayed on her half of the couch.

Owen glanced from her face to her hand and back again.

“Deal.” He wrapped his pinky around hers.

She curled her toes into the cushions and forced herself to hold his gaze instead of dashing across the room.

Owen had the build of a jock, he was the sort of person people liked, and the kind of guy she’d grown up hoping would take notice of her. And now, here he was, in her house, on her sofa and looking at her. About five years too late. She had nothing to offer him, and there weren’t enough hours in the day to devote to what she already had going on, much less him. All those wistful urges were just fantasy talking.

She pulled her hand from his and concentrated on her mostly-empty plate.

He really was kind of amazing, when she wasn’t so determined to keep the stick up her ass.

He’d fixed the window—she’d seen the text picture of that job.

He cleaned the disgusting counters.

He’d fixed the stove, the faucet, and from the sound of it, the drain problem, too. She was willing to bet there were other minor miracles he’d worked that he just wasn’t fessing up to.

It was past time she cut him some slack, and maybe...accept that he was one of the good guys. The good-looking ones, that was for sure. And here she was, with a black eye and clothes two sizes too big.

“Did you talk to your dad at all?” Owen asked.

“My...dad?” She blinked. What were they talking about again?

“About the break-in?”

“Oh. Right.” She sighed. “I sent him an email. When he can call or reply, he will.”

“Where is he, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Who knows?” Quinn shrugged.

“You really don’t know where he is?”

“Or what he’s doing.” She smiled, but it was strained. “Dad...he was one of the scary good guys. When mom died, there was a lot of stuff going on to try to keep him in, but ultimately, they let him go, since he was the only living guardian. Then he started doing contract work, and it’s like before. Only worse. These days, he’s not limited on how long he can be deployed.”

“Quinn...I’m...I don’t know what to say.”

“There isn’t anything to say.” She scraped the last bit off her plate. “Mom and Dad...they loved each other. It wasn’t perfect, but they made it work because they wanted to. Without Mom, I’m not sure Dad is whole. I’m not sure he can be normal. Or if he knows how to have this kind of life. The best we can do, that I try to do, is make sure he has a place when he wants one. Other than that, it’s nice to hear from him, but we try to not need him, because relying on him disappoints everyone.”

“You’ve done a great job with Kierra.”

“She makes it easy. Well, as easy as it can be with a genius kid sister.” Quinn pushed to her feet. She had thoughts about Owen rolling around in her head that she needed to think through, but not while she was looking at him.

“Here, let me take that.”

Quinn opened her mouth and closed it.

Yes, she was perfectly capable of walking across to the sink and taking care of her dishes. But he was being nice. After the day she’d had, nice was great.

“Thanks.” She let him take the dish and silverware, and trailed behind Owen.

Goddamn. She’d never really appreciated how magical plain, gray sweatpants on the male form really were. They molded to Owen’s body, showing off his firm, round ass while keeping everything covered. It was a...comfortable sexy. Like yoga pants. Only, she seriously doubted she looked as good in those as he did in a pair of freaking gray sweatpants.

He turned on the faucet and squirted dish soap into the bottom of the sink. She stepped up to the left, ready to help, at least. Or spend time ogling his pants, either one worked. Owen seemed lost in thought, frowning into the suds.

“How much do you remember about the break-in?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “It happened so fast. Why?”

“Just...when I came in, the guy seemed like he was asking you about something. Do you remember what it was?” Owen peered up at her, his too-blue gaze cutting to the quick.

He’d heard the guy ask about the key. Did she trust Owen with the truth? Or feign memory loss?

“I’m just trying to figure out why someone would break in here and assault you like that. There had to be something of value for him to take that risk in the first place.” He turned the faucet off and began sliding dishes in the sink. “Unless he was high, and then...”

“He wanted a key, but...I don’t know what key. My knee-jerk assumption? One of the three keys to the safety deposit box, where the rest of mom’s journals are stored.” Quinn glanced up at Owen watching her. “That doesn’t make sense, though. Anything of value has already been developed. We’ve wrung those pages dry trying to keep HI-Co afloat.”

“Okay, can you think of anything your dad might have kept here that would interest people, then? A storage unit? A trunk? Maybe it’s not a physical key. What about digital?” Owen asked.

“It makes more sense that it would be about Dad, but...he doesn’t keep anything here. At least, nothing he really wants.” Including his kids.

“Between us, if Kierra were the target, they’d have gone for her bedroom window. Easy in, grab and go.” His blue eyes went hard. Unfriendly. But only for a moment. “They went for the bathroom, which, looking at the catch, was probably the weakest point of entry. That means that whoever broke in wanted something from you.”

“What if it was just a burglar? That sort of thing happens, right? Maybe he was confused. Had the wrong house. Something.” She braced a hand against the counter and faced Owen.

“Yes, but... this isn’t the house a common thief would pick, no offense.” He mirrored her pose.

“Ouch.” It could never be something so easy, could it?

“Most B&Es are about a quick grab. Stuff that can be sold fast, flipped. It’s all about easy cash, usually for drugs or something. Kids that want the latest game system but can’t afford it.”

“We have none of that.” Shit. Quinn chewed her lip. Was she putting Kierra at risk?

“Which makes me wonder, could there have been something else? Be something else? One of your inventions? Work things? Some information of your father’s? Mother’s? Has anyone approached you about using Kierra for a program or a study?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. No, I don’t think so...” Quinn stared at the bubbles filling the sink.

There was one thing.

Pearl had commented on it when the grant was bandied about.

“You’re thinking of something?” Owen took a small step forward, fully in her personal space now.

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You don’t even know what it is.” She rolled her eyes and stared up at him. Wow. He was a lot closer than she realized.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not stupid.” Owen covered her hand with his, those too-intense, crystal-blue eyes of his boring into her skull.

“There’s this project at work. It’s big. Like, might save the company big. Might change the future big. And it’s complicated.”

“Tell me?” Owen shut off the sink and leaned a hip against the counter.

“There’s a grant that’s going to be awarded to whoever can display the best prototype for an alternate energy source based battery. Now, HI-Co is going to have three different kinds to show, but I’m worried they aren’t going to be good enough.”

“Why would someone break in here looking for them? Is this a big deal? Are you close to developing something that might win?”

“The big battery companies have been squashing research into new battery cells left and right. If something better comes on the market, they’re going to have to scramble to come up with a similar product, update factories, and find new suppliers. It’s in their best interests to keep using the same old thing, never mind how bad acid batteries are for the environment. This grant is privately funded, so the companies can’t do anything about it.” Quinn wrapped her arms around herself. “My mom was working on a battery, tinkering really, before she died. It was magnesium based. Our company is basing our prototypes off her research, but I didn’t feel good about what they were doing, so I’ve been building one here. In the basement. I don’t even have the original notes. I’m working off partial photocopies.”

“Would someone want to steal those?”

“Maybe?” Quinn shrugged. “The government took a lot of her research when she died. Said it was national security mumbo-jumbo.”

“Show me?”

“What?”

“The battery.”

Oh dear...

She hadn’t shown anyone. Not even Kierra.

“It’s probably nothing. They aren’t even going to show my prototype, so it’s not like it matters.”

“Why not? You’ve got as much right as they do, if not more, to have your battery out there. This was your mom’s company, right?”

“Me?” Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and laughed. It was a bitter, sad sound she hated. She was the office girl. Why would they ever show anything she made?

“It’s probably great. Show me?” he asked again.

Quinn could say no. That’s what she told Kierra when she asked, but that was different. Kierra was a little girl, full of too much knowledge and not enough practice. It was potentially dangerous to allow her downstairs.

If Quinn never showed anyone, what was the point? Why keep Mom’s workshop? Why not create a playroom or something useful?

Owen had put up with her prickly nature for months. Showing him her soft underbelly for a moment wasn’t too much to ask.

“Fine. Come on.” She turned and walked down the hall.

The door was locked, but not with anything heavy duty. She grabbed the key ring from where it was hidden on a hook, partially hidden by the molding around the door. She twisted the key and flipped on the hall light, leading the way down the solid, wooden stairs.

“Mom started her company out of this basement. She used to keep a project here to tinker with on the weekends and stuff when she wasn’t at her job.” Quinn turned on the lights, chasing the shadows away.

“Wow...” Owen stopped at the foot of the stairs.

What was it like to see this room for the first time?

“When I was little, I used to imagine that this was what Ariel’s trove looked like.” She lifted a hand and caressed a set of wrenches hanging off the rafters. Her mother had created from junk, sometimes literally sourcing necessary parts out of a scrap heap. “It probably looks more like WALL-E’s world.”

“No, it’s amazing down here.”

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the basement floor. The whole area was divided into four spaces. There was a reading nook next to the furnace, two work bench areas and a third space Mom had kept clear for larger projects or storage. These days, it was where Quinn kept the Christmas tree and some of dad’s boxes.

She stopped next to the first work bench and stared down at the small amalgamation of parts and pieces she’d put together.

“This is it.” She gestured to the ongoing disaster. “It’s not fully functional yet. I’m trying to operate on a smaller scale. I mean, most batteries are used in everyday items, so I’m trying to focus on small. Compact. It’s frustrating.”

She sighed and once again reconsidered her strategy. Bigger would be easier. Half of her problems came from housing issues or packing enough punch.

“That’s cool.” Owen knelt so he was on eye level with the thing.

Cool was not a word she’d use to describe the pile of wires and metal, but she appreciated his kindness.

“What do you have left to do to make it work?” he asked.

“Scrapping it and starting over?”

“What? No. Why?” He stared up at her.

“I’m having problems.”

“You can fix problems. You’re good at this stuff, right?”

“Are you a cheerleader, too?” She smiled, which was probably his goal all along. Sneaky bastard.

“No, my oldest sister was the family cheerleader.” Owen straightened and braced a hand on the wooden workbench. “When we were younger, we used to climb up in the hay loft and pretend we were building a rocket. She told us we could make one out of cardboard boxes and tape. I’m pretty sure she told us that so she could talk to her boyfriend without us bothering her.”

“Barn?”

“Believe it or not, I grew up on a farm.”

“So Fix It Felix is a country boy, hm?” God, could he be any more endearing? It had to be the lack of sleep, good coffee and food. It was all working against her. “Dad’s family was the farm type, too. Now, they just have some land and a barn with a couple retired horses and cows to keep them company.”

“It’s not an easy lifestyle.”

“Is anything?” She braced her hip against the bench and raked her hand through her hair.

“Anything worth having is worth working for.” Owen stared down at her.

She didn’t think they were talking about life choices anymore.

Not with the way his gaze was tracing her lips so intimately she could almost feel his skin on hers.

Men had been giving women that look since the dawn of time. It spoke of interest and intent. Quinn swallowed. Was she interested in Owen? If she were honest with herself, yes, she was, but that didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

Her first instinct was to duck her head, maybe run away. Men were rarely worth the trouble they caused in her life, but this was Owen. He could be a pain in her ass, but he also fixed her sink, scared away the boogeyman, and told her she could do the impossible.

Mom always used to say you had to get the right person for the job. Perhaps he was a good candidate.

Owen was proving that he did what he said he would.

If she asked, would he do her?

“Quinn?” Owen’s fingertips brushed her hair back.

She tipped her chin up a bit, gaze locked on his lips. He had a kind mouth, one that smiled more than it frowned.

Kissing him would be a mistake. A fun one, but still a mistake. Kierra adored him. Quinn liked him. Which were all reasons to not do this. Why she should back up. But he’d cooked dinner. And cleaned the kitchen. Was a kiss really a bad idea?

Quinn swallowed and made herself look anywhere but his mouth. Unfortunately, his gaze caught hers, snaring her in his spell. He cupped her cheek and leaned a bit closer. She could feel his breath on her skin, the way her pulse hammered in her veins.

His lips slid against hers. She rocked forward, splaying her hands against his chest, her head swimming.

A door banged upstairs, the thud resounding through the basement.

Owen turned from her, breaking the kiss.

Quinn gasped and leaned against the workbench.

Was the would-be thief back?

“Stay here.” Owen pushed past her, his tone going from velvet to steel.

“Quinn? Quinn, you here?”

“It’s Chloe,” Quinn blurted. Her knees nearly gave out.

Shit.

It was Chloe.

And Quinn had sort-of-kind-of kissed Owen.

“Oh.” Owen replaced the wrench with the others hanging from the rafter. “Right.”

He was halfway up the stairs, a wrench in his hand. He paused, blinking at her. He didn’t seem as off balance as she was. In fact, the way he was looking at her now... She curled her toes, pressing them into the ground.

Almost kissing didn’t count as real kissing. Did it?

“Quinn? You home?” Chloe called out.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, her bewilderment reflected back at her.

A mistake. They’d narrowly avoided a disaster. They hadn’t really kissed. The momentary contact didn’t count. Did it?

Owen climbed to the first floor, his voice mingling with Kierra’s.

Chloe was here, which meant Kierra was home. Good. Quinn hadn’t really kissed Owen, and she shouldn’t.

“Holy shit.” Quinn pressed her hands to her cheeks and blew out a breath. That heat was all her.

What she needed were some heavy duty batteries for her vibrator. If she even knew where that was. No, she’d thrown it out after Kierra found it and was using it as a light saber. Yeah, that was a memory she didn’t want to soon recall.

Footsteps thumped on the stairs.

Too heavy to be Kierra. Not heavy enough for Owen.

“Coming,” Quinn said.

“What is Owen doin’ here?” Chloe stopped on the landing, eyes wide and her smile bright.

“No.” Quinn wagged her finger at Chloe. Quinn couldn’t take an interrogation from Chloe, not after that almost kiss. “Stop that thought right now. Don’t you dare.”

Chloe descended the last few steps, her brows arched. She did not seem to be listening.

“Chloe, not tonight. Please?” Quinn stuck out her lower lip. She wasn’t too proud to beg.

“He’s doin’ your dishes.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest.

“Shit.” Quinn groaned.

“When did this happen?”

“It hasn’t happened. I swear.” Quinn drew an X over her heart. She couldn’t meet Chloe’s gaze, so she stared at the ground. It wasn’t a real kiss. There was no tongue. Just a press of lip on lip. “He wouldn’t leave last night, so I let him crash on the sofa. It kept Kierra from having nightmares for the first time in ages.”

“Really? Huh. I’d move him in, if I were you. That eye is lookin’ pretty gnarly.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Anyway, Owen is not staying here and nothing is happening between us.”

“Do we get to vote on it? Because if we do,” Chloe held her hand up, “I think you should get laid.”

“Chloe!” Quinn glanced at the stairs and swallowed.

“Come on, Quinn. Owen’s kind of hot when he’s got that five o’ clock shadow goin’ on.”

“If you think he’s so hot, why don’t you date him?” Quinn didn’t want to examine the irrational urge to push her friend over a statement about a man’s attractiveness.

“Because I don’t date my brother’s friends and as attractive as Owen is, he’s not my type.” Chloe smiled, her cool blue eyes twinkling.

They weren’t the same as Owen’s. Owen’s were...icy, at times. So cold they could cut, but also refreshing. Like the first snowfall in winter. He made her want to snuggle closer, always nearer, and never leave.

“And what? He’s my type?” Quinn frowned.

“You said it, not me.” Chloe grinned.

“How’s Delilah?”

“Good. She just needed a little company is all.”

“Was Stacey not around?”

“Stacey was home. Delilah loves Stacey, but she’s not Kierra. Sometimes she just needs her best mate.” Chloe’s smile was easier, relaxed. The procedure must have gone well. “Owen, hm?”

“No.” Quinn shook her head.

“Come on.”

“No. You’re terrible.”

“Fine.” Chloe sighed. “Is he stayin’ here, for now, then?”

Quinn chewed her lip. They hadn’t talked about it, but if he was right and it wasn’t her father the thief had wanted to get to, maybe having someone around to take on the bad guys wasn’t a terrible choice. At the very least, Kierra might sleep easier. Quinn hated to admit it, but she would, too, with Owen near. She couldn’t keep asking him to sleep on the sofa, though.

Chloe began humming the Jeopardy theme song, which Quinn ignored.

The only other place for Owen to sleep would be her parent’s room. She kept the master shut up most of the time, though she did air it out occasionally. Change the sheets. Dad never did warn them when he was coming. He was just there.

“Do you think he’d be okay staying in Dad’s room? Or is that weird?” Quinn asked.

“That’s perfect. A nice, big bed, all to himself.” Chloe sighed.

“I hate you. Leave. Now.”

“You don’t hate me.” Chloe laughed and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s shoulder’s. “Do yourself a favor and shave.”

“I am not sleeping with your brother’s friend.” No matter how much her body was signaling otherwise. They’d just had an awfully close call that highlighted to her why this wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m goin’ to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Chloe grinned and walked toward the stairs. “I need to live vicariously through someone else’s sex life, and Taylor is out. Love her like a sister, but not enough to hear about my brother gettin’ off. I already hear too much as it is.”

Quinn followed, flipping off the lights as she went. She was too tired to make heads or tails of things tonight on the battery. A good night’s rest would solve most of her problems, and tomorrow she could tackle try number three hundred and whatever.

They emerged from the basement to the sounds of Kierra and Owen chatting away at each other. Chloe cast not so subtle glances Quinn’s way. Owen was so good with Kierra. Patient. Kind. All of which were reasons she should keep her distance from him. If she dated Owen, or even slept with him, things would change. She wasn’t built for frivolous sex. And then what about Kierra?

No, it was better to not go there. He could sleep in Dad’s room, he could watch over them, if that was what he wanted to do, but it was for Kierra. And not Quinn.

Quinn would look after herself, as she’d been doing. Now was not the time to fall into some man’s arms simply because he was there, and definitely not two weeks before what might be the biggest event of her career.

He’d said it himself, anything worth having was worth working for, and sometimes that meant walking away from what looked good on the surface.

Her bones hurt worse tonight. She hadn’t thought it was possible. Then again, stress did some nasty things to the body.

She’d waited a full twenty-four hours for this.

The asset in training was dead. She’d received the all-clear signal over lunch. And now, well, she’d kicked the hornets’ nest, that was for sure.

Her time was fast running out.

This was it.

She was going to hire a professional.

Finding someone was an awful lot like bringing home a mutt from the pound. She never knew what she was really getting in bed with, what their training was, the pitfalls, any of it. And it wasn’t like she was hiring for a snatch job either. Whoever did this would likely have to handle Quinn Schaeffer, because Lord knew she couldn’t. No matter that her own life was at stake, she couldn’t bring herself to personally harm Quinn. She’d already bugged the girl’s computer and phone. Whatever she said, wherever she went, was known to them.

God, what a mess.

She’d tried to shepherd Quinn out of this industry. She’d done her best, but Quinn was a determined soul. Now, Quinn’s blood would be one of many staining her hands.

At least she’d tried.

She fired up the laptop she kept in the crawlspace below the house and waited. The thing was ancient, but damn well near hack-proof. While the laptop booted up, she pulled out her phone. She’d need a recent photo of Quinn, something clear as day.

Unlike most modern girls, Quinn wasn’t all that active online. Likely because she didn’t have the time, bless her.

When was the last picture she’d even seen of Quinn?

That birthday party.

With all those men dressed up in ridiculous outfits.

She did a quick internet search, which yielded dozens of articles—with pictures. She nearly cackled. Oh, this was too easy. She had her target photo and her cipher, all in a link. It was brilliant!

The laptop finished booting up, so she set the phone and her pad of paper aside.

In the old days, you had to know someone to hire a man for a job. In these modern times, all she had to do was know how to access certain dark corners of the internet. It was child’s play. Anyone could do it.

It was really a wonder that more people weren’t doing it.

She found the right spot, a sort of hidden door to a secretive part of a forum on one of the far-flung bits of the interweb. Her message looked like a bunch of gibberish, but to anyone with training, anyone she’d want to work with, they’d see it for what it was.

An advert for a killer.