Four days later...

Owen smoothed the comforter back into place, leaving the room just as Quinn had showed it to him. When was that? How many days and nights had he spent under their roof?

He was losing track of time, burying himself in projects, things Quinn didn’t have time to deal with that were perfect busy work for Owen. It felt good to be useful. But it wouldn’t last.

They still hadn’t talked about the all-too-brief kiss in the basement. He didn’t know how to bring it up the right way. Teasing Quinn made her run away from him. Flirting got him the side eye of death. Maybe after Kierra left for her grandparents, he could pin Quinn down to talk about it. Figuratively, though he wouldn’t mind something more literal either.

There were times when Quinn looked at him like she wanted to wrap herself around him, and others when she was nearly in tears and on the verge of begging him to leave. Owen was even conflicted about staying now, and he hadn’t seen that one coming.

The deciding factor so far was Kierra. She’d slept through every night since the break-in without fail. But she was leaving tomorrow for her grandparents. Not because the cops working the case had found anything. Owen didn’t have to ask to know that the guys taking the calls had classified her as a nuisance. The one thing Quinn and Owen could agree on was that whoever had broken in, wasn’t done with the girls yet. That was why Kierra was leaving tomorrow.

He tiptoed to the bedroom door, listening once again for the sound of movement.

He’d slept later than he’d intended, but it was Saturday. The day made for lazy mornings.

Still no noise.

He twisted the knob and crept out, shutting it quietly behind him.

He inhaled, catching a whiff of coffee.

Shit, had he forgot to turn off the programmed start?

Owen padded down the hall, past the closed bedroom doors, into the main living space. The curtains were open, blinds up, early morning light streaming in. He had to squint, it was so bright. To think, days ago they’d been coated with so much grime they hadn’t needed curtains.

“Morning,” Quinn said from somewhere under the sunbeams.

“Didn’t think you’d be up.” So much for getting started on the crawlspace repairs before she stopped him. He’d noticed tears in the vents big enough for rodents to get into, which made him wonder what else was busted down below.

“Taylor offered to take the girls to breakfast at the zoo. When someone with an early childhood education degree wants to babysit your genius kid sister, you don’t say no. Even if they did get up ungodly early.”

“Is it...I heard a rumor Taylor’s pregnant?”

“Rumor?” Quinn snorted. “That’s a fact. Though...maybe they aren’t telling everyone just yet? Shit.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Promise.” He snagged a coffee cup and poured himself a mug. The skin between his shoulder blades prickled.

Quinn was watching him.

“I had a Pop Tart for breakfast. You can have one,” Quinn said.

Owen passed up the packaged food and stuck to coffee and a banana. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Pop Tarts, they had their place in things, but growing up the way he had, he still had funny ideas about food that came in wrappers. He crossed to the living room.

What he’d thought was just obnoxiously bright sunshine off the newly-polished floors was actually pages of paper, some of them clear transparencies, and notebooks, all spread over the coffee table, the middle of the floor and around Quinn, who was sitting on the old rug in front of the TV.

“Working on something?” He perched on the sofa since it seemed safely away from the sphere of her paper and peered at a page that might as well have been hieroglyphics.

“Yes.” Quinn groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. She was still in pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt, which was a nice look for her. The suits she wore to work were so severe and utilitarian. They made her look older, less...Quinn-like.

“What is all this stuff?”

“Copies of some of my mom’s research. At least, stuff that the DoD didn’t confiscate.” Quinn’s gaze traveled in a half circle around her, taking in the pages.

“Working on the battery?”

“Yes. I’m trying to...” She waved her hands. “In layman’s terms, I’m trying to make the charge more powerful and last longer. My prototype will hold a charge for about six hours and then it’s dead, but it’s not powerful enough. I can get it powerful, but then it only lasts a half hour. That’s not enough. The whole grant is about doing something better than the batteries we already have. Something that won’t harm the environment. Something that won’t be as dangerous to kids. A better battery.”

“Looking at the research like this helps you?”

“No, not really, but it’s all I have. After mom died, a bunch of people started nosing around, wanting what research was left. Dad and Karen decided that to protect the intellectual property, they’d lock it up until they could decide what to do with it.”

“But...”

“We made some copies along the way. Or, well, Dad and Karen were both around at the same time to get into the safety deposit box to make some copies.”

“Karen lives here in Seattle though, right? She works with you?”

“It takes all three of us to open the box, and I don’t know that Karen would really want me to have this stuff, if she knew about what I was doing with it.”

“Wait, why—”

“I need to apologize to you.” Quinn looked at Owen for the first time since he’d stepped foot into the room. She stopped bobbing her knees and gripped the loose material of her pant legs in both hands.

“O...kay.” That was about the most abrupt change in conversation he’d ever experienced.

“This has been a really...stressful time for me. And Kierra. But mostly, me.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’ve... You’re not the person I keep trying to make you out to be.” Quinn didn’t look pleased by that statement. Her lips curled up, as though she’d tasted something she didn’t like. “I’ve been unfair to you, totally bitchy and unappreciative.”

“Really, it’s fine. You’re under a lot of stress.”

She’d already told him about the people looking for a charity project, how the revolving door of do-gooders did more damage than they fixed. He got it. And, he’d known this conversation was coming.

Thanks for all you’ve done, we really appreciate it, but please leave.

“No, it’s not. I don’t know what we would have done without you this week. I’m barely holding it together.” Quinn’s smile was too tight, almost fracturing her face. “Kierra, she actually slept. I realize you don’t know what a big deal that is, but it’s huge. She’s just a little girl, but her mind, it’s always going. She hardly ever makes it through a whole night without getting up at least once. But when you’re here...she sleeps. I don’t know why, but she does. I’ve been really unfair to you, especially when you’re going through a lot, too. I’m sorry.”

He glanced at his coffee cup.

Yeah, he didn’t want to discuss that part at all.

“I’m not easy to put up with.” He glanced up, his smile a little forced. “I’m pushy and—”

“You’re a nice guy, Owen. You mean well.”

“Ask before I do things, I know.” He chuckled. “We’re good.”

“Okay.” Quinn blew out a breath and pushed her shoulders back, as though a weight was gone.

“Back to the battery.” Owen gestured at the pages. Maybe they could skip the please leave bit for another day or two. The longer he could stay here, the more chance he’d have of catching whoever was interested in the Schaeffers.

“I was hoping that reorganizing things and laying them out would help me find a better solution. I’m just not seeing it. Maybe it’s me? Maybe this is where talent isn’t enough and technical know-how matters. But then, why is my battery more sustainable than Karen’s, Molly’s or Anna Beth’s?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and groaned.

“You’ll figure it out. Don’t you have a team working with you?” He didn’t know what Quinn did exactly, he’d never dared to ask. All he knew was that her family owned some sort of an inventor’s company.

“No, it’s just me.”

Quinn seemed receptive to new ideas. Talking to him. This could be his moment to wedge the door open a little wider, so to speak.

“I was thinking, not battery related...what if I started my own investigation into the break in? Privately, and with permission, of course.” He was a homicide detective, the only thing missing from this case was a dead body, and he’d like to prevent that from happening.

“I can’t afford that.” Quinn shook her head.

“I’m not going to charge you. I just want the green light from you to start asking questions.” He spread his hands. “The cops have closed the case. We both know what happened wasn’t a one-time deal.”

“Are we sure it isn’t?” Quinn’s face creased.

“Do you think it is?’

“Do you believe Kierra?”

“Yes.”

“If you believe Kierra, then no. It’s not over. Whatever that person wanted is still here.” Quinn dropped her gaze to the floor, shoulders slumping.

“No word from your dad yet?”

“Nope.”

“He’s probably off somewhere, doing really important things.”

“You don’t have to make up a story so I feel better, Owen.” Quinn lifted her chin. “This is who my dad is. He does things and goes places I will never know about. His job, the mission, whatever he’s doing, it’s more important than us. Always has been.”

Owen stared into Quinn’s eyes, his mouth incapable of making an intelligent enough argument to that statement.

Quinn was a brilliant, beautiful woman not afraid of the hard work life threw her way. She was a fighter, just like her dad. Only Quinn’s weapons weren’t guns, bombs or fists. She deserved someone who’d have her back.

She lit the cigarette, her lungs be damned, and shifted her ass a bit.

Whoever this young yahoo was, she was going to set him straight on a few things. Like not leaving an old lady like her waiting. She should have gone with the girl out of Arizona instead of the man, but she didn’t trust other women because she knew herself. Men, on the other hand, were simpler creatures. Easier to predict.

She took a drag on the cigarette, that old, familiar hit of nicotine surging through her blood. Oh, how she missed it. Those vape things just didn’t do the job the same way a stick of tobacco did.

Her backup plan wasn’t panning out so great. She had two of the three keys, but Quinn’s was eluding her. One way or another, she needed to get a copy of that key as leverage. To cover her ass if things went wrong.

“Did you miss the no smoking sign?” a man said behind her.

It was the way he spoke, the easy manner, like a coiled snake. Dangerous, yet relaxed. Not poised to strike. Yet.

He would, given time.

She flicked the ash onto the ground.

“Do I look like I care?” She took another drag and kept facing the door.

He’d picked this spot, not her. She’d made a calculated guess that he’d enter the same way she had, instead of having to go through the heart of the building and perhaps get caught by the people on shift.

Interesting.

High risk didn’t faze him.

Good to know.

“Well? You taking the job or not?” she asked. It was time to shit or get off the pot. The window to do this job was closing and fast.

This whole situation irritated her.

He’d made contact, they’d met briefly, she’d reiterated the job highlights, and he’d said he’d be in touch after a little recon work.

He circled her, the hat pulled low over his brow shielding his face. She didn’t know what he looked like, what his name was, or where he was from. Whoever her spook for hire was, he was good, at least.

“What exactly are you wanting done? You said you wanted the girl out of the way. What does that mean?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” She narrowed her gaze.

“I prefer to be clear on my instructions.”

“Kill the girl. Make it look like an accident. The little one? Don’t let her see you. She’s got a photographic memory or something.”

“The younger one, does she need to go, too?”

“If necessary, yes. If she’s out of the way, no. She doesn’t know anything of value.”

“What about collateral damage?”

“Do I look like a woman who wants to know about collateral damage?” She gripped the handle of her cane harder.

I’m sorry, Quinn...

“No, you do not,” the man said. “I’ll take the job, but it’ll happen on my time table.”

“So long as it’s before the convention, I don’t care.”

She was signing the death warrant for not only Quinn, but the company her mama had built from the ground up. The guilt would eat at her for a while, but that was fine. She’d live long enough to experience it.

“This is who my dad is. He does things and goes places I will never know about. His job, the mission, whatever he’s doing, it’s more important than us. Always has been.”

Quinn hated those words, but they were the truth. Believing a fairy tale, that their father would miraculously remember he loved being a dad, wouldn’t solve their problems. In fact, it would likely create more. The only way Quinn was able to keep them out of the poor house was with the money their father earned. There was no use in denying it. They simply had to find another way to survive. Like they always had.

At least she’d graduated from her days working as a maid after classes, just to make sure she finished school.

“Sorry, that was...” She shrugged for lack of a better way to apologize.

“I like to fix things. Faucets. People.” Owen spread his hands.

“No wonder you picked us.” Quinn chuckled.

Owen opened and closed his mouth. “It means I put my foot in my mouth sometimes.”

“It’s okay. You’re different. You mean well. You actually do what you set out to do. We might be your charity project, but you don’t treat us that way.”

“You’re not.”

“It’s not an insult.”

“I care about you and Kierra.”

Quinn bit the inside of her mouth and dug her nails into her calf.

They were just words.

He didn’t mean them how she might want him to. If she were interested in that. Not that she was. Maybe?

“If you think it’ll help, go ahead and ask questions.” Quinn shrugged and latched onto the change of topic.

“Hey, I’ve got a random idea.” Owen’s eyes had a dangerous twinkle in them.

“What?”

“You might hate it.”

“Okay...”

“I noticed Kierra’s bed is a little small for her.”

“Yeah, she needs a big girl bed.” Quinn managed to hold back her wince. Beds cost money.

“Well, I know a guy who runs an antique shop. He owes me a favor. He might be able to hook us up. Interested?”

“I don’t know. Antique shops sometimes over-charge.”

“Not this guy. Besides, it doesn’t look like you’re making progress, and when I’m stuck on a case, it helps to go do something totally unrelated.”

He did have a point. Plus, it would be nice to have some purely adult company for a while.

“I’ll go get changed.” Quinn gathered the pages and took them to her bedroom.

The research notes got locked in the top drawer of what used to be her mother’s roll top desk. Even if they were copies, they were somewhat valuable and incredibly sentimental.

She turned to her closet and surveyed the more than boring assortment of work clothes and her mom regalia. It was...well, her tiny wardrobe was disappointing. Looking at the shirts, none of them said I’m a single, attractive woman. Which was ridiculous thing to care about.

Owen, no matter how well intended, was merely docking in their lives for the moment. He wouldn’t stay, but when he left, they would miss him. Somehow he’d wormed his way past her walls. She didn’t resent his involvement with them now. It simply was.

“Why am I being so stupid?” she muttered to herself.

Quinn grabbed a pair of jeans she’d hacked off at the knees, her flip flops, and a plain, black tank top. It wasn’t a stunning outfit, but was comfortable. She scraped her hair back into a bun, armed herself with her purse, phone and charging cable.

Owen had wiped down the counters and cleaned out the coffee pot by the time she was ready. The blinds were down, curtains drawn.

“Ready?”

“Sure.”

He took the lead, ushering her out of her own house and locking up behind them. Giving him the spare key had seemed like a no brainer. What was more, it didn’t feel like an invasion of privacy, either. What was happening?

Quinn rolled the idea around in her head, more concerned about her lack of bother over the whole thing.

A week ago she’d have been up in arms about a dozen things that she’d let slide today. Was it Owen? Was he wearing her down? Or was he just different than anyone else?

He opened the passenger door to his car and held it for her while she got in. Because that was the kind of thing Owen did.

Quinn watched him walk around the front of the car.

Some of the guys who’d been at Delilah’s infamous Princess Party had let the costumes wear them. Oh, each guy had their own style and personality, but that first time dressed up, they hadn’t all owned it.

Owen, on the other hand, he’d breathed Prince Charming.

He was the real deal.

A great guy with a heart of gold. Any girl would be lucky to have him around, but he was out of place in her life. Or maybe he wasn’t.

She hated that they were both hitting a low point together, because she had nothing to offer a guy like him.

But Owen was with her.

And today, well, maybe she could stop being a tightly-wound grump for all of an hour, and actually enjoy his company.

“This friend, how’d you meet him?” she asked.

“Oh. Someone sold him a trunk with a body in it.” Owen grinned.

“You...you’re kidding, right?”

“No.” Owen laughed and shook his head. “To date, it is one of the weirdest cases I’ve worked. Don’t worry, he checks all incoming merchandise for dead people now.”

“Oh my god.” Quinn covered her mouth, laughing. “Well, who did it? What happened? How’d it get there?”

Owen vowed her to secrecy before regaling her with the highlights of his case. He told the whole story, the animated way he spoke was enchanting. By the time they reached the antique shop she’d laughed and cried. It was the most absurd whodunit she’d ever heard.

“Here we are. Roger’s Antiques, certified clean of any dead bodies.” Owen eased into a parking spot.

Quinn snickered and popped her seatbelt.

“Hold on a second,” Owen said.

“What?” Quinn blinked at him, but he was already out of the car, jogging around to her side.

This wasn’t a date. He didn’t have to get her door or drive her around.

Stop thinking about it and enjoy it.

Owen opened her door and held out his hand.

She put her palm in his. It was a friendly touch, nothing out of the ordinary at all. And yet... Had the temperature gone up? Why did her stomach feel so funny?

“Let’s see if Roger’s here?” Owen closed the car and locked it before placing his hand on Quinn’s back, guiding her toward the door.

She stepped through the doors into the barn-like antique store. The ceiling went up forever with all sorts of chandeliers, light fixtures and...things...hanging from it.

Was that a dinosaur skeleton?

“Oh, hey, Roger.” Owen waved at the skeleton.

“That’s Roger?”

“He was one of the props on the original Jurassic Park movie.” Owen grinned. “Do you want to browse a little or go straight to the beds?”

“We can look some.” She peered around, not sure where to look next.

“I’d like to go upstairs, if you don’t mind?”

“You lead the way.”

Owen grabbed her hand. He practically vibrated with excited energy that was contagious. What was upstairs?

They climbed to the open, second-floor loft. He led her to a display case full of tin toy trains. Owen dropped her hand and crouched in front of the case.

“That one’s new,” he said.

Quinn knelt next to him and studied the shiny red-and-yellow train set that seemed to have captured Owen’s attention.

“I grew up out in the middle of nowhere—”

“Farm boy, I remember.”

“As you wish.” He lifted a shoulder.

Be still my beating heart.

“We used to get carted over to our grandparent’s house when my parent’s had to cut hay, or if there were a bunch of calves being born all at once. Whatever it took to get us out of their hair. Anyway, my grandpa had these tin toy trains. They were handed down through the family. They got beat up, of course, but I always loved them. The idea of jumping on a train and seeing where it would take you.”

Quinn didn’t look at the trains, she watched him. The way his face lit up.

“Sorry, this is probably the most boring thing in the world to you.” Owen glanced at her.

She studied the locomotive. Part of the front was dented, but it was otherwise in what appeared to be good condition. “I don’t have a train in my life. I mean, I don’t really have those same, fond extended family memories. Mom hired a nanny pretty fast after I was born, Dad was gone, and Mom didn’t like spending too much time in the boonies with Dad’s family. Kierra goes to see her grandparents pretty often. She has more of a relationship with them than I ever will.”

“You have the basement, inventions with your mom.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Quinn stared at the light reflecting off the tiny plastic windows in the train. “I have a piece of a solar panel my mom made framed in my room. She carved her name into it. That’s why I kept it.”

“It’s special. And probably a lot more reasonable than a guy who likes to occasionally collect toy trains.”

“It’s cute.”

“Yeah, well, if I have to move back home, I fully expect my little brother is going to give me shit about it.”

“Move?” Quinn whipped her head around to stare at him so fast she sat down on her hip.

“Yeah, well, I don’t imagine I’ll be able to find work here. Back home, at least I’m that King boy everyone knows. The town’s too small to have a homicide department, so I’d be back on patrol, if they even have a spot open for a washed-up detective like me.”

“What? No.” Quinn shoved up to her feet, hands clenched into fists. “I know you didn’t share all the details about why you’re being fired, but no. You are not someone who gives up. You’re good at what you do. People like you. They trust you. Because you’re a good person, Owen King. Giving up and leaving because of whatever bullshit reason you’re getting fired for? No.”

Owen rose up, looking at her with a funny expression on his face.

The shop was far too quiet.

Her hands were shaking.

It was a wholly unreasonable, extreme reaction, and yet—Quinn had given up what she wanted to do, what she’d been good at, to do what had to be done. Owen didn’t have the same kind of demands on his life. He didn’t have a kid brother to raise, people to tend to. He could take a chance, fight for what he wanted, and he should. Because when dreams died, they took a part of the person with them that was simply gone forever.

Quinn glanced away. “You’re good at what you do, Owen. This, being a cop, it’s been your dream. I had to give up my dreams for my family. I don’t regret it, but I wish it could have been different. Please, don’t give up?”

“Give up your dreams?” Owen chuckled. “You’re a snazzy inventor. That’s a pretty awesome life.”

He...

What?

He didn’t really think...

“Hey?” Owen hooked his fingers around hers and edged closer. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon. That’s just a backup plan.”

He tucked a wayward piece of hair that’d escaped her bun behind her ear.

Even that small, kind gesture left ripples across her soul.

She opened her mouth, but her disbelief had stolen her words. She couldn’t pretend she was something she wasn’t. Not even for him.

“You have this way of talking sometimes...” His gaze searched her face, for what, she didn’t know but she hoped he found it. “You sell yourself short, propping other people up. You’re more than that.”

“Is this pep talk hour?” She could use it for what she was going to say.

“If it is, we should make a regular date of it.”

Quinn swallowed, suddenly aware of just how close he was. If she breathed too deep, they’d have full body contact. Owen twined the same piece of hair he’d swept back around his finger. He wasn’t backing up.

She stood frozen to the spot, her mind blanking out. The little revelation she’d had about Owen’s perception of her life faded away. In the scheme of things, what she did wasn’t what defined her. It was the choices she made, and right now, she wanted him to kiss her.

He leaned down, his breath warm on her skin.

“This is the one chance you’ve got to tell me no,” he whispered.

Quinn couldn’t make her mouth work, which was likely for the best. Anything she’d say would only embarrass her.

Owen cupped the back of her head and she rocked forward. A zing of need went through her, and she pressed her toes against the spongy material of her flip-flops in an effort to ground herself. He let go of her hand and wrapped the arm around her waist, tugging her closer. There was nothing hurried about his kiss. His lips moved against hers, slowly. She flattened her hands against his chest and curled her fingers into the fabric until she fisted his T-shirt.

Life was in his kiss.

She wanted more of it.

Below them, the bell on the door jangled.

Owen broke the kiss but didn’t let her go. She buried her too-warm face against his chest and he kissed her brow.

Holy shit.

She needed a relationship, even a fling, like she needed another bill on her plate. But a kiss like that? Might just be the best thing since her newly-fixed sink.

Hansel adjusted the airflow on the AC unit while reading over the obituary with the other.

How was it not obvious to anyone else that Julia Schaeffer’s death was not natural? Even the worst diseases didn’t act that fast. Someone had killed the girl’s mother. For what reason or purpose, that wasn’t Hansel’s concern. What it told him was that his target was potentially valuable. He’d have to make sure to get a good look around before he did anything to the place.

The obituary went into the pile of known information.

Quinn Schaeffer shouldn’t be too hard to kill, but he’d toy with her first. That would drive Owen King mad.

Hansel pinned a photograph of the now-former detective to the hotel wall.

He’d go for the girl first, make Owen suffer. Figure out who and what else the detective cared about, and then Hansel would dispatch Owen.

Hansel’s brother would be proud.