A Place to Call Home

He didn’t.

“You spent four years in the Marine Corps. Seven years with Hamlin Security,” Alex recited evenly. “You moved back to your hometown a year ago to take over your father’s locksmith business after he died. Since then, you expanded to specialized security systems designed for summer homes and luxury condos.”

Apparently Porter had done his homework.

All those things were true. But Porter had left out a six-month gap in Quinn’s employment history. “You forgot something.”

“That you got a raw deal while you worked for Hamlin? Doesn’t matter.”

Didn’t matter?

Under different circumstances, Quinn might have been flattered. Except that he couldn’t believe someone could neatly condense the last thirteen years of his life and then dismiss the single event that had ripped it apart. Especially when it had cost him his career—and his reputation.

“I have a business. And it isn’t babysitting the rich and famous.” Been there, done that. Still pulling out shrapnel.

“I need the best. That’s you.”

“What you need to do is buy your sister a rottweiler and remind her to lock the doors at night,” Quinn shot back. “It sounds to me like you’re overreacting to a threat that doesn’t exist. And even if one does, it’s in Illinois, not Wisconsin. She’s probably safer here than anywhere.”

“I’m not taking any chances when it comes to Abby’s safety.” A hint of steel sharpened the words. “I want someone with her who’s experienced in sensing potential threats.”

That was funny. Because Quinn was sensing one right now. A threat to the life he’d started to rebuild.

It was proving to be challenging enough to erase the stain of having the last name O’Halloran without people getting wind of the reason he’d returned to Mirror Lake. Quinn figured if they knew the truth, he’d have to start at square one again. If he was allowed to start at all.

From the sound of it, the only thing Abby Porter was in danger of was being smothered by an overprotective brother. Getting involved with the Porters would be a bad idea, for more reasons than Quinn could count.

“I can’t help you.”

“You mean you won’t help me.”

It boiled down to the same thing. “I can give you some names,” Quinn offered reluctantly. “Talk to some people I used to know.”

Not that he could guarantee those people would talk to him.

“You’ve heard of the White Wolf Run condominiums, right?” Alex asked. “Jeff Gaines happens to be a close friend of mine.”

“Really?” Quinn’s voice was stripped of emotion.

Apparently, Porter had not only done his homework, he’d done the extra credit. O’Halloran Security had put in a bid on that job.

A wave of frustration battered Quinn’s resolve. This was the difference between the haves and the have-nots. When you belonged to the first group, all you had to do was open your wallet to get your way.

“I can put in a good word for you,” Alex said.

The underlying message was clear. If Quinn agreed to work for him.

The confidence in Porter’s voice rankled. And brought back that pride versus the paycheck issue again. Designing a security system for the White Wolf Run condos would boost Quinn’s income enough to wipe out some of his start-up debt, install an air conditioner in the sweltering office and allow him to replace outdated equipment. It would also go a long way in securing his business’s reputation in the area.

And your own.

Quinn ignored the mocking voice that infiltrated his thoughts.

“How does your sister feel about someone invading her personal space?” He wasn’t agreeing to anything yet. Just…inquiring.

“It doesn’t matter because Abby isn’t going to know why you’re there. Or that I hired you.”

Quinn’s internal alarm system went off. “What do you mean she isn’t going to know why I’m there?”

“She can’t find out that I’m involved in this. We had a bit of a disagreement when she turned in her resignation. Abby refuses to accept any help from me. She can be a little…stubborn.”

Apparently a Porter family trait.

“What a shock,” Quinn muttered, silently adding that bit of information to what he’d learned about Alex Porter’s younger sister so far.

Impulsive. Temperamental. Stubborn—Quinn translated that as spoiled. Oh, and what was the other word Alex had used to describe her?

Fragile.

All of them added up to one thing.

Trouble.

“Abby is focused on getting the place ready for her grand opening in August,” Alex continued. “Her carpenter, Daniel Redstone, just won an all-expense-paid, two-week vacation with a professional fishing guide. You’re going to take his place.”

“How lucky for Daniel,” Quinn said dryly.

“A person makes their own luck.” Alex dismissed his comment. “You’ve helped Redstone out in the past when you were short on cash. That makes you an obvious replacement for him. No one will think twice about it. Neither will Abby. You’ll be able to keep an eye on her and in between pounding nails and painting the outhouse, you can install a security system.”

“You are…” Quinn paused. With so many issues to choose from, it was difficult to pick a winner.

“Thorough.” Alex filled in the blank.

Quinn had been leaning more toward arrogant. Or smug. But he guessed that description fit as good as any.

“Two weeks. Until Daniel comes back.” It was all Quinn was willing to spare. Other than Faye, he only employed two part-time employees. Both men were responsible and would appreciate the extra work, but Quinn didn’t want to look as if he were shirking his responsibility. People already told him that he resembled his father. The last thing Quinn wanted to do was act like him.

“Two weeks,” Alex agreed. “24/7.”

“You have got to be kidding.” There was overprotective and then there was downright paranoid.

“That’s my offer.”

“The person harassing you hasn’t bothered your sister.” Quinn raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

“I told you.” Alex’s voice was as cold as spring water now. “I’m not taking any chances when it comes to Abby’s safety.”

“You want me on-site. Round the clock. For two weeks.”