Page 6 of The Prince of New York

Fortunately, I transferred my metal bars to the vault beneath the junkyard after every session. Unless someone had the key or the right talents, my physical wealth would be safe enough. I pointed at my car. “I brought the only valuable object readily accessible at the junkyard with me. My bars are in storage, and I wish any would-be thieves luck accessing them. There isn’t a whole lot in there right now. I did a delivery recently.”

The delivery had bagged me over a million dollars in rare metals in their purest form. The next batch would be worth even more.

I had a mountain of old computer parts to melt down when I went back to work.

“I can test Monty on some trips to the junkyard this week so you can get everything sorted for a few weeks away,” Terry offered. “That would give him some extra experience.”

I read between the lines: he’d appreciate the chance to work on the problem in a way he could monitor. As my sister trusted Monty, if I could step outside of my comfort zone, she’d feel better about the situation, too.

“Sure. I probably need ten total hours in the junkyard to finish the project I’m working on. After that, everything can sit without an issue.”

Computer parts were easy to dismantle, extract the viable metals from, and otherwise prepare for sale. With ten hours, I could have everything barred. Two or three extra hours would let me get the metal sold off.

I could talk to Monty about getting those two or three extra hours. Had it been any other agent from the original New York RPS, I wouldn’t have been willing to even try, but Monty cared.

It wasn’t his fault I had trust issues.

“Tuesday and Wednesday,” Terry promised. “Do you have everything you need to be here for the evenings?”

“It’s in my car.”

“I’ll go with you into the parking garage and help carry everything over. If you missed anything, I’ll be sending the agents who weren’t fired on the worst errands I can come up with for the next six months to change their attitudes. And if they don’t show an immediate willingness to work, they’re out.”

“You’re going to need a great deal of luck, Terry.”

“I know,” the RPS agent replied, his tone one of despair. “May we both survive a week of hell with our sanity intact.”

* * *

My sister insistedon escorting me through the palace. In an effort to make me more comfortable with the changes in our lives, she’d deferred to me regarding my new suite. I appreciated that, although I doubted I could handle many more changes before I lost my mind.

I longed for something comforting in its familiarity.

One day, the changes would lose their edge and become normal. It would take time. Everything always took time.

“I’m so sorry. Terry wasn’t taking no for an answer, and he couldn’t handle the thought of you being unprotected. We’re traumatized New Yorkers. Clearly, you might perish if you aren’t nearby where he can keep an eye on you.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of the RPS agent having lost his mind over the situation to that degree. “Seriously?”

“Monty is sorry, too. He wasn’t responsible, but he feels like he should have noticed.”

Well, that was something. “It’s nothing new, Rachel.”

“I know that, you know that, everyone who has been in the RPS in New York before I got saddled with the kingdom knows it. Terry? According to Terry, the world is literally ending.”

Behind us, the RPS agent in question snorted. “While I’m confident he won’t immediately perish should we take our eyes off him for a minute, it’s the second or third minute that concerns me. I’ve learned I can take my eyes off your sister for precisely one minute before she finds some way to create trouble, Ian. I left her unattended for many minutes.”

“Rachel, he’s using our names. What did they do to him in Texas?”

“Exposure therapy in high quantity. Those Texans ganged up on him and made him use their names. Then his princess helped. They returned him to us capable of using our names. We let him use titles sometimes during the day so he doesn’t start to cry. RPS agents are delicate.” My sister stopped, turned to face the head of her detail, and stomped her foot. “You’re babying Ian.”

“Yes, I am. If I could bring His Majesty of Texas over to do the babying, I would. Instead, I am prescribing some Californian babying. It should be an effective treatment plan. I am expecting him to be capable of accepting general affection without becoming overly conscious of the fact that he needs attention to thrive. I will overhaul the RPS here while he is gone and make certain there are agents capable of babying at the appropriate intervals. I believe we can adapt him to being the baby of New York given a few months.”

I realized the agent teased me, and I scowled at him. “Terry.”

“Prince Ian,” he replied in a rather amused tone. “If you demonstrate you can keep your assigned agents nearby until your departure date, I’m sure you would be subjected to slightly less babying.”

“You’re an evil man, Terry. It comes as no surprise to me that the Montana royal family hired you. Your evil is a match for theirs.” I wrinkled my nose at the man, aware he appreciated a more relaxed atmosphere. I wouldn’t trick him regarding my emotional state, not with his strength of magic, but at least I could defuse some of the general tension. “I’ll even let an RPS agent into my car with me when I go to work.”

---