Page 48 of The Prince of New York

Traffic showed us zero mercy,and rather than cuss a storm over the relentless stop and go, I caught a nap. Over two hours later, Daphne woke me, and the woman muttered curses. “How do you deal with that all the time?”

“I don’t. I go to my junkyard and hide—or make Terry deal with it while I sleep.”

“You suck, Ian. I wasn’t allowed to nap. I tried. Terry scolded me.”

“I really did,” my sister’s agent stated, and he snickered before getting out of the SUV. “Was that a boredom or stress nap?”

“Boredom,” I replied, stretching before freeing myself from the seat belt and climbing out of the vehicle after Daphne. “If it wins me sympathy from the tyrant royal physician taking over New York, you can pretend it was stress.”

“Considering you were conked out hard enough to sleep through an accident that happened right in front of us, I may have called Dr. Stanton,” Terry admitted. “There was a fatality. The cause was a drunk driver.”

Damn it. “Please tell me the drunk driver was the fatality, at least that way only they paid for their fucking stupidity.”

“He was. There were injuries, and one of the victims doesn’t have insurance, but I had one of the other agents pass along the RPS business card and strongly suggest the insurance issue quietly disappear. There will be no additional fatalities from that crash on my watch.”

I foresaw a living nightmare my sister would have to deal with. “Just tell my sister that there should be a law where all victims of drunk drivers are guaranteed care at insured rates, and the policy selected is the best of the best for the year. If the driver has insurance, all costs of care are transferred to the driver, including the deductions. It should be an easy pass and prevent issues.”

“Who is going to pay for that?” Terry asked.

“Nobody. Everyone with half a grain of common sense knows that the actual cost of care is the deductible rate as a general rule. It’ll give the hospitals a good reason to chase after the driver’s insurance. Have her dig out a list of incidents that have clear fault, including drunk or drugged driving, speeding, running lights, and so on. Allow premiums to be raised on those instances, and call it a day.”

“I’m stealing that idea for Montana,” Daphne informed me. “The insurance companies are going to hate it; it’ll cost them more because they’ll be paying the deductibles for the victims.”

“And we can add some rules where there will be fines for uninsured drivers equaling the total cost of the victim’s care. Another easy pass. The uninsured will hate it, but if they hadn’t broken the laws or chosen to drink and drive, then they wouldn’t be paying any penalties at all.” I regarded the courthouse parking lot with disdain, as the gloomy place seemed perfect for a serial killer to go on the hunt. “How positively gloomy. What is this? A method of demoralizing all who have to go to the courthouse?”

Daphne chuckled, planted her hands on my back, and pushed me in the direction of the nearby stairwell. “We do not get to take the elevator. The RPS with your sister took one look at it and determined all royalty needed to have some exercise. I saw pictures. If you think this is gloomy, the elevator looks like it eats people for breakfast. Your sister has already informed the courthouse that it will be replaced.”

“Is that what you RPS agents do when your royal is napping? You gossip?”

“Aw, Terry. I have my very own pet royal. You heard him!”

“Good luck convincing Her Royal Majesty to let you keep him,” Terry replied, shaking his head and alarming the SUV. “Now that you’re here, they can sign the paperwork officiating their union in New York, which will make it unassailable. Please don’t make a scene.”

“No protesting their union, Ian,” Daphne translated. “Sure, it’d be hilarious if you came up with some bullshit reason to delay things, but try not to fuss. There has been enough fussing for one day.”

My sister’s head of detail sighed and shook his head. “Her Edward is fussing. He is missing his princess, and he’s tired of trying to babysit New Yorkers.”

How had I become a bastion of sanity? “Oh. He’s here already?”

“It was the safest place for him, and I wasn’t letting him anywhere near your parents.” Daphne sighed. “I’m going to pay for that for a while, or so he says.”

There was no way I was getting caught between a Brit and his Montana princess waging war against each other. “You’re just going to have to handle your Brit on your own. Is there anything I need to know beyond sleeping through a car wreck?”

Terry shook his head. “It’s been quiet. If the ex knows about the trip here, he hasn’t come out. He’s a cheap bastard from the looks of it, so coming here is likely outside of his budget, especially now that he can’t pillage Madelyn’s money. The palace opened a new bank account for her upon finding out what was going on and had her removed from the other account. Her pay had been held until the new account was open, so she has her earnings.”

That Terry was calling someone a cheap bastard rang alarm bells. I could see Daphne doing it, but Terry? “What happened?”

“Nothing new has happened. I was given more details about the situation, and I’m less than pleased about it. I was tempted to inform your parents about this man. Upon hearing the details, I have no doubt they would make him disappear. Permanently.”

If Terry skirted losing his temper, I feared how intense my rage would become if I learned the truth. As such, I resolved to mind my business and pretend I hadn’t heard him. “Do you need a few minutes to rein your temper in, Terry? Let’s not upset Madelyn or my sister. If those two both get upset at the same time, we might not live to tell the tale.” I wrinkled my nose at the staircase, heaved a sigh, and began the hike up. “Please tell me we’re not at the bottom of the garage.”

“We’re at the bottom of the garage. It was the most secure place. They had some violent crime trials today, and some of the witnesses are less than savory. The risk assessment was unacceptable, so we got the basement. That’s also part of why the elevator was banned. Until we’re done, this area is closed off and everyone has to use the elevator or a different stairwell.”

Terry hustled, catching up and then passing me. As I refused to be beat by some RPS agent without putting up a good fight, I picked up the pace.

Behind us, Daphne laughed. “Ian, don’t pick a fight you can’t win. Unlike you, Terry’s back in his prime. He’d crush us both for the fun of it and laugh while setting up our punishment, which involves excess exercise.”

“I really will.”

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