Page 68 of The Princess and the P.I.

“Maurice,” she said, voice already tight, “you finally pick up. Our neighbors called. Someone broke into our house. I need to check it out. It’s exactly what David did to me.”

A sharp blade of fear cut through him. He closed his eyes, pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Fiona, I want you to stay in my condo.”

She sounded appalled. “Maurice—”

“Fiona.” He cut her off. He hated all of this. He should be tracing lazy circles on her hip right now and watching berries burst in her mouth. “They’re watching me. And likely watching you. You haven’t left the house, have you?”

A pause. His stomach dropped.

“Ah…” she said.

“Fiona.” A long, slow breath. “This is dangerous. Listen to me. The church is done sending messages. People are dying to protect their secrets.”

“If you’re talking about Sara—”

“Go look outside right now,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”

There was a beat of silence, the faint rustle of her shifting near a window. He felt like he was standing next to her, watching her eyes scan the street.

“I just see cars,” she said.

“Black cars?”

Another pause. Then, more hesitant. “Yes.”

Maurice closed his eyes. “They’ve been on us all day.

” He kept his voice even, but inside, something was clawing its way out of him.

“They’re just waiting on orders. They want to shut this down.

And they will do anything to make sure people don’t talk.

You, your sister, and your dad in the same place is like a gift. ”

“If they’re with the church, all they have to do is see my dad,” she said, but there was an edge to her voice.

“Fiona, your dad has lost all favor. They took his holy books and his robes. They stripped him of everything.” He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but she was making it impossible to stay calm. “Just promise me, no matter what, that you stay safe. Stay inside. Please.”

Silence pulled between them.

“I have to go,” he said, before she could argue.

He didn’t know what Detective Tony Ryan had, but he believed him that it was damning enough to give him a heads-up.

He had to make one more call. And then, somehow, he had to figure out how to keep Fiona safe from a world that had already decided she and her family were expendable.

After hanging up, Maurice dialed his sister.

Liza answered on the fifth ring, no greeting, no warm-up. “Where are you?” she demanded.

He ignored her question. “I need a favor. What was the name of that lawyer you like? That Persian dude?”

Silence. Then, alarm.

“Giv. Giv at Coleson Partners. Maurice, why do you need a fixer?”

“I don’t know yet, Liza,” he said, voice dropping lower, like that might soften the urgency. “I also need you to help Fiona. Get her whatever she asks for, and find some more heavies to post up around my condo. No one in or out.”

Liza exhaled hard, and in the background, he could hear the chaos of her house—Janae arguing with her daughter about a sweater, something metal clattering to the floor, a general hum of barely contained Black family nonsense.

“Maurice, first Fiona tells me you’ve been detained, then you text me at the crack of dawn telling me to bring food over to your condo, and now you’re asking for a lawyer? You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Not enough time. And it could be nothing.”

“Maurice, can I say something?”

“Liza—“

She cut him off. “I think Fiona is it .”

“Liza, this is the textbook definition of not the right time.”

“I knew you were gonna say that. Deya said this is the longest an assistant has ever stayed. And she’s not a nine-to-fiver.

She’s actually with you twenty-four-seven.

That’s like dog-year relationship time. By my calculations, plus bonus danger pay, you two are three human years into a relationship.

You know what Janae calls that?” Liza asked.

“Sweat equity!” Janae shouted into the phone.

“You’re still going,” Maurice said. He massaged his jaw. “This is why I don’t call you.”

“No, this is why you should call me. Because I’m right. And I’m the only one who tells you.”

Maurice sighed. He was not about to let Liza turn this into one of her unsolicited TED Talks on his emotional well-being. “Just get the lawyer, Liza. And thank you for handling the condo.”

“Fine, but when this blows over, we’re gonna unpack this.”

“We’re not.”

“We are.”

“Liza—“

“Love you too, dumbass. Stay safe.” She hung up before he could respond.

Maurice hung up, feeling that temporary pang of loneliness he sometimes did when their rambunctious joy evaporated from the room.

Growing up, he never shared their disposition.

He was always too serious, too unknowable, but it was in these moments when they were gone that he felt acutely part of them.

Tony returned with a pair of sandwiches and looked around once again, slapping a sandwich in front of Maurice.

“I hope these are worth it. I never thought I’d see the day. Bennett with a steady girl.” He sat backward in the chair. “I used to think you were missing parts. You were so cool and detached.”

“I’m neither of those things.” Maurice squinted at Ryan.

Ryan looked genuinely upset. “Well, that’s how you made people feel. You made me feel like shit for wanting things. I had ambition, Bennett. I want this sheriff position. I wanted Alpha Dogs.”

But Maurice kept silent. Biting into his sandwich, then pausing.

“Minus the crab obviously,” Detective Ryan said.

Maurice bit again. The sandwich was great, one of the few things that lived up to the hype.

Tony Ryan wanted to unburden himself, as the guilty often did.

He wanted to make his actions feel reasonable, and for all the folks jockeying for his favor, for all of his charm, Little Tony from Southeast still needed Maurice to validate him.

Maurice wasn’t in a back-patting mood. Whoever killed Sara was still out there stalking everyone involved in this case.

“Ryan.” Maurice cleared his throat. “I wanted Alpha Dogs too. I just wasn’t willing to fuck over my boys for it.”

Ryan tapped his fingers. Giving up on charm. “You think we’re playing with you? You think I picked you up ’cause I missed your arrogant ass? We got your DNA all over that woman’s body. Saliva,” he whispered. “Semen…Maybe I should go private. Y’all having all the fun.”

“Is that all you have? My DNA all over a sex club. Do you know how much genetic material I saw at that club? The only way you found mine was if you were searching for mine. Now, what on earth would make you search for me? A tip? A call from a concerned citizen? That church is playing you.” Maurice played it off as if he knew—seeing if Ryan would take the bait, but he only smiled.

“You’re right. We wouldn’t bring you in on semen in a sex club. But that plus this…”

Tony tapped his phone.

Maurice’s bones chilled at the clear sound of his own voice: “I’m going to find Sara and break her.”

When the fuck had I said that?

His stomach turned like a cement truck. His poor sleep habits finally came to bite him in the ass. He couldn’t for the life of him place this conversation. Maybe it was AI?

“Five years ago, this would have been a bombshell, but voices are faked so easily nowadays.” Maurice shrugged. “Alpha Dogs running behind again. This case is paper-thin, and you know it.”

“Too bad it’s not faked. All those things together plus you’ve been seen everywhere with that church mouse with a vendetta against the company?” He shook his head. “Not looking good. Looks like y’all were working together.”

It did. What a perfect little story Ryan now had in his hands. It was wrapped up in a nice bow so he could run for sheriff with another high-profile case under his belt.

“I don’t blame you, though.” Ryan pushed himself up from the table. “Them church girls be the freakiest ones.”

“You know,” Maurice said, laboring to be cool. “Fiona is innocent. You know the shit they plopped in your lap is manufactured. But you still need me. Why?”

“Maybe you didn’t hear what came down the wire about five minutes ago. The acting CEO dropped his grand larceny charges on your girl.”

Ryan stabbed the table with a pointed finger. “Looks like your girl’s slithering out of this one, Maurice. No theft. No charges. Just ‘unfortunate drug cocktail’ for Robert Thorpe. Clean as a whistle. I’mma start going to her church if they’re handing out miracles like that .”

Maurice’s lips twitched upward, despite himself. Fiona. How the hell did she manage this?

Ryan leaned in. “You ask me what I want? I want to be sheriff. And these same anonymous church folk who handed me this evidence on you want your girl and her family in a body bag. I bugged ’em and intercepted some wild shit, man. Your rent-a-cops at the door? Not enough.” Ryan let it sink in.

Maurice’s head jerked back like he’d been struck. His throat clenched, his breath catching sharp and raw, his panic rising fast and feral. “We need to put a fucking detail on her. Now!” Maurice pulled himself up from the chair.

Ryan’s grin faded. “Ain’t no we , Bennett. That’s a lot of police resources you’re asking for. You think I’m gonna burn through my budget just because you’re in your feelings? Nah. And besides, I don’t want folks accusing me of nepotism.”

Maurice’s chest tightened. If something happened to Fiona while he was wasting time in a dumb-ass sandwich shop, he’d never forgive himself.

“Ryan”—Maurice sighed—“tell me what you want.”

The detective didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back, savoring his moment of triumph.

“I want everything you have on that church. Give me Tameka, and I’ll walk into that church with the full weight of Prince George’s County behind me.

I’ll arrest anybody wearing a robe. But the Tameka case?

That’s mine. My name on the docket, my win in the books. ”