His Princess (A Royal Romance)(111)

He’s a scumbag. Easiest thing would be to just plug him, dump him, and proceed to get the f*ck out of this place and get out of Rose’s life before I make things worse for her.

Fuck, she needs the money he pays her. Alimony and child support and all that. She’s broke, I checked. Call it overzealous but I had a look at her bank accounts. Paycheck to paycheck doesn’t even begin to describe it. If I off her ex-husband she’ll be up shit creek, and I’d be taking the paddles on my way out.

There’s more than that. He’s still those girls’ dad and I can’t just kill him. Christ almighty, is that how far gone I am? My first reaction to a problem is to murder somebody?

My hands start to tremble. I know why I’m so happy at the thought of teaching Russel a sharp lesson. How dare he? How dare he hurt her this way?

After everything is shut off I get up and pace some more. It’s late now, and that goddamn block party is tomorrow. I can’t leave in the middle of that.

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.

I don’t think I can leave now at all, not until I’m sure they won’t take Rose’s kids away. God, what am I going to do? I can feel Santiago out there somewhere, like a shark in the deep waters always looking up, up, for prey darkened against the sun.

Everything is piling up on me. What next?

Then there’s the other thing. What’s this thumb drive Dale sent me? There’s nothing about it in the note. I weigh it in my fingers, thinking about it. Something about it sets off my instincts, like it’s squirming in my fingers like a bug. I set it on the desk and pace the room some more.

Fatigue slams into me all at once and I almost stumble. I end up sprawled out on the bed in my clothes until about four in the morning, when I crawl into the shower, wash up, and crawl back into bed.

There must be something I can do.





12





Rose





Damn you, Russel. Damn you, Quentin.

I’m about to take a beer out of the fridge when I change my mind. I feel guilty about it. I start to take a soda and feel guilty about that, touching my stomach. The caffeine probably isn’t doing me any good either. Sighing, I take a bottle of water, trudge upstairs, and flop on the bed.

Not for long. I still need to make dinner for the kids, and I ate the damned leftovers. It’s a boxed meal tonight. I don’t feel like eating, or doing anything really, but I drag myself back off the bed and downstairs.

“Mom, lay down,” Karen says as she stops me in the hallway.

“I need to cook dinner, honey.”

“I can handle it,” she says cheerily. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Don’t burn the house down.”

“I’m not going to burn the house down.”

I sigh. “Good, don’t. Really.”

As much as I don’t care if the damn thing burns, I can’t deal with it right now. I flop back on the bed and drink half my bottle of water then doze off again. I’m so tired.

It’s a fitful half sleep, the kind that leaves you aware of time passing and more groggy than you started. I snap awake when Karen shakes my arm.

“It’s ready, Mom.”

She made Tuna Helper, and she did an okay job. She never let it boil over, it’s not burnt, and it’s not all congealed and nasty. Kelly certainly eats it up. I push mine around the plate, leaning my chin on my hand like a sullen teenager.

There’s no sound except for the faint scraping of forks on plates. Kelly finishes first, burps loudly, and asks to go upstairs and do her homework. I wave her away and she darts up the steps, and her door closes.

Karen sits at the other end of the table, eating almost grudgingly.

“So your father picked you up,” I sigh.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to go with him, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“There was nothing you could do, honey.”

“I know, Mom, but ugh, I can’t stand him and I can’t stand that woman.”

Karen won’t even say Skyler’s name.

“It’s not fair that he makes you look at her.”

I nod. “He brought her here to annoy me, you know that.”

“She tried to act all Mom with us. Kelly just wanted food but it made me sick. She’s not even old enough to be my mom. She could be my sister.”

I sigh. “Your weekend with them is coming up.”

“I don’t want to go. They’ll make us do some stupid shit like go to Dutch Wonderland again.”

“Language.”

She rolls her eyes. “Mom, come on.”

“You never talked like that when you were younger. You picked it up from one of those dirty books you read.”

She blushes faintly.

“I read one,” I add. “Really, Karen.”

She squirms in her seat. “It’s just make believe.”

I laugh. “I know, but you’re a little young for that. You’re still supposed to be in your princess phase.”

“I grew out of that in a hurry,” she says mournfully, and carries her and Kelly’s plates to the sink.

“Do you think Quentin will come back?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, hon. Probably not.”