Bound to Them (4 page)

“Is there a problem here?” asked a female voice.

Both men turned toward Crista.

She frowned up at Quinn, her gaze suspicious. Folding her
arms over her baggy dark-blue t-shirt, she stepped closer to Nash. Large
turquoise eyes surrounded by pale eyelashes peered up at him. She licked her
lips nervously, drawing his attention to her lush mouth. What would she taste
like? Sunlight glinted off her long blonde hair, which she’d swept tortuously
back into a large bun.

If she were his, he’d insist she keep her hair down.

“Nash?” She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes concerned,
as though she actually cared about him.

Oh darlin’, don’t start caring about me. I’m really not
worth it.

And yet he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pleasure. What would
it be like to have this sweet little thing belong to him? She brought out his
protective instincts. When she looked up at him with those big eyes as if she
thought he could move the moon and stars, he immediately wanted to be that man
for her. To be the one she turned to with her needs, her wants, her problems.

Yet the person she needed protection from the most was him.

She needed to get out, experience life. He’d want to hide
her away in his bedroom and never let her go.

I could train her. She’s submissive. I could show her how
to get what she needs.

He’d been toying with the idea of training her for weeks. He
could show her how to protect herself from idiots who would try to take
advantage of her. But Crista deserved something real, something more than a
cheap fling, and Nash didn’t have it in him to give that to her.

Not when the man standing next to him had broken his heart.

“Everything’s fine here, sweetheart,” Quinn said. “Why don’t
you go back to your office and I’ll be along shortly?”

Nash glared at him but didn’t object, knowing they needed to
get rid of her.

“Excuse me?” she said loudly, folding her arms across her
chest. “In case you forgot, Mr. Sinclair, I’m your boss. You do what I say.
Take your clothes up to my office and get changed. I’ll meet you back here in
five minutes.”

Nash’s lips twitched as Quinn gaped in amazement. He stilled
the telling movement as she turned to him. He didn’t want her to think he was
laughing at her. No, his amusement was all at Quinn’s expense. The other man looked
downright dumbfounded.

“Nash, you okay?” she asked.

Quinn looked at him, questioning. Nash shook his head and
nodded toward the office. With a roll of his eyes, Quinn turned and strode off.

Nash let out a deep breath. “I’m fine, Crista.”

“Do you know him?” She nodded over at Quinn, her lips
pursed.

“Ahh, yeah, we worked together in Seattle.”

Crista frowned, obviously thinking furiously. “Did you get
along with him all right? He’s kind of, umm—”

“Intimidating?” Nash guessed.

“I suppose. Doug hired him. I didn’t have much of a choice
but to take him on.” She chewed at her lower lip. Nash resisted the urge to
soothe the abused flesh with his tongue.

Quinn stepped out of the trailer, dressed in an old blue
t-shirt and loose, ripped jeans.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. He’s very good at what he does.”

“Yes, I am,” Quinn agreed as he stepped up behind her.

Crista turned with a gasp. Obviously she hadn’t heard him
walk up.

“You trying to get rid of me already, boss lady?”

“Any reason I should?”

“No, no reason at all.”

She snorted. “Nash, get back to work. Quinn, follow me.”

* * * * *

“You can’t keep avoiding me, you know.”

Nash didn’t bother to look back as Quinn spoke from behind
him. He’d had a hard day and he longed for a cold beer and an even colder
shower. Quinn had been here two weeks now, and it was taking all of Nash’s
energy to keep his distance from the other man.

Everywhere he turned Quinn was there, his shirt off, his
muscles gleaming, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Still ignoring me? That’s really mature, isn’t it?”

Nash clenched his teeth against his sharp reply.
Just
keep on walking. Don’t acknowledge him. Eventually he’ll grow tired of whatever
game he’s playing and go away.

He squashed the pang of loss at that thought and focused on
his anger. It felt good to be angry. Strong.

His fury prevented him from dragging Quinn back to his room
and fucking him all night long. Quinn’s reasons for being here didn’t matter.
Nash was done with him.

A car backfired, causing him to look up. He froze. “What the
fuck is he doing here?”

Quinn followed Nash’s gaze across the yard to see a large
man get out of a rusty car that had seen better days. His attention shifted as
Crista stepped out of the trailer. Nash watched her a lot. At first, Quinn
thought Nash was faking an interest to make him jealous. Then he’d realized
Nash’s attraction to her was real.

Quinn understood why. She had a cute, innocent,
girl-next-door kind of look—made all the more appealing because she obviously
didn’t realize her own attractiveness. All the women Quinn had been with in the
past knew their best features and weren’t afraid to use them. Not Crista. She
was genuine, sweet and obviously submissive, even if she didn’t seem to know
it.

Nash strode past Quinn.

“What’s going on?” Quinn asked as a large, scruffy man
stormed toward Crista.

“I want my money, bitch,” the guy yelled, obviously drunk.

Quinn followed Nash.

“You’re not owed any money, Sam,” Crista said quietly. She
flicked them a look, one that clearly ordered them to stay out of her business.
Oh she so didn’t know who she was dealing with.

“Yeah, well, I just met with Doug and he said I could have
my money. So give it to me, bitch.”

Quinn stiffened and took another step forward.

“Well, I say you’re owed nothing. You have one minute to
vacate the property or I’m calling the police,” Crista replied firmly, her
voice dripping with icicles.

The big man grew silent. Suddenly his arm shot out. Crista
stepped back, but his hand still clipped the side of her face. He spat on the
ground before turning with a snarl and striding away.

Crista tripped in her haste to get away and fell onto her
back. Quinn leapt toward her, sliding onto his knees.

“Stay still, baby, let me check you over.”

Quinn heard the thick, meaty reverberation of fist meeting
flesh behind him but didn’t bother to look around. He knew Nash would take care
of the bastard. He hissed, his gaze turning hazy with rage as a bruise
ballooned on her cheek. Tears filled her eyes but didn’t spill as she looked up
at him.

“Help me up,” she demanded.

“Just lie there, sweetheart, until I check you over.”

Quinn ran his hands over her body, his cock swelling as he
touched her. He cursed himself. Now was not the time to get turned-on.

“I’m fine.” She pushed his hands away. “Please, Quinn,” she
begged.

Tears swam in her eyes. Poor baby. She was obviously doing
her best to hold herself together. “Okay, sweetheart, let me help you.”

Quinn supported her as she rose. She turned, her eyes
widening. Her breath caught on a little hitch before racing out on a whoosh.

He followed her gaze, wondering what had caught her
attention.

Nash bore down on them, his stride purposeful, gaze intense.
Blond hair fell loosely around his face, having sprung free from the tie he
used to keep the shoulder-length strands away from his tanned face. His eyes
captivated, drawing Quinn in.

Every thought rushed from Quinn’s head as blood pounded
through his body. His dick strained against the loose, worn denim he wore. He
was going to hurt himself if he kept this up. Surely it couldn’t be healthy to
be this aroused all the time without any respite.

Nash’s gaze focused on where Quinn held Crista, his eyes
hardening.

Suddenly it hit him. How he could get Nash’s attention. He
simply had to ensure that he had something Nash wanted.

Crista.

“In the trailer. Now,” Nash snapped.

Nash stared at Crista and tried to calm his temper. She’d
probably never been anywhere near violence. When he’d seen that asshole hit
her, he’d exploded with rage. He’d known Quinn would take care of Crista so
he’d concentrated on making the bastard pay for touching her.

Sharing a woman wasn’t something that had ever crossed his
mind, but now he found himself considering the benefits. Had he been on his
own, he’d have been torn between looking after Crista and teaching that asshole
a lesson. With Quinn there the choice had been easy.

Crista watched him, her big eyes filled with tears, putting
as much distance as she could manage between them. She crossed her arms over
her trembling body.

Shit, he’d actually scared her.

“Crista,” he began, wincing at the roughness in his voice.
Turning, he took a step toward the door. Best to leave now before he terrified
her further. He’d leave her care to Quinn until he’d cleaned up and calmed
down.

“Your knuckles.”

Nash stopped, nearly stumbling backward as Crista appeared before
him. She grabbed his hands in hers, bringing them up so she could inspect them
more clearly.

“They need to be cleaned or they might become infected. I
have a first-aid kit around here somewhere. Come and sit down.”

Dumbfounded, he let her steer him toward a chair. She pushed
on his shoulders until he sat.

Quinn snorted with laughter.

Nash’s lips twitched even as he glared at Quinn. He didn’t
want Crista thinking they were laughing at her. He probably outweighed her by a
hundred pounds and stood nearly a foot taller, yet here he was, letting her
lead him around as if he were a lamb.

“Here we go.” Crista returned with a small box. As she
crouched at his feet, the image of her sucking his cock assailed him.

He groaned.

“Are you okay?” She glanced up at him, her eyes displaying
her concern. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”

Nash couldn’t speak through his anger as he glowered at the
bruise marring her face. And if she hadn’t stepped back the damage could have
been so much worse.

“Nash?” She gaped at him in shock as he swore violently.
Probably using words she’d never heard before.

Reaching down, he clasped her around the waist, setting her
on the desk to his right.

“What are you doing? Your knuckles—”

“Forget my fu—flippin’ knuckles. Look at your face. You need
some ice on that cheek. Now.”

“On it,” Quinn said, opening the small fridge. He passed
Nash a cold can of Diet Coke. “Here. This is all she’s got.”

Nash frowned as he placed the can on her cheek. Quinn held
her still when she tried to pull back.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” Quinn told her. “Otherwise that
cheek is going to be huge tomorrow.”

“She’ll be lucky to see out of her eye by morning,” Nash
muttered. Crista eyed him cautiously.

“Don’t worry about Nash, sweetheart,” Quinn said almost
cheerfully. “He’s in a bit of a mood.”

Nash tried to calm himself, wanting to wipe the frightened
deer-in-headlights look off Crista’s face. “Sorry, darlin’. I’m just mad at
myself for letting that bastard hit you. I’ll calm down soon.”

Yeah, give me a year or so.

She relaxed at his words, even patting his shoulder as
though he were a cuddly puppy. She needed a keeper. A few words and she fully
believed him to be easygoing and gentle rather than dangerous, mean and riding
the sheer edge of his temper.

“You couldn’t have stopped him,” she told him. “Stop blaming
yourself.”

Nash stared at her incredulously. “I should have shoved him
away from you the moment he stepped close enough to cause you harm.”

“That’s not your job,” she said firmly, obviously believing
every foolish word she uttered. “I know you were sticking up for me because
we’re friends, Nash, but you should’ve just let him leave. He could’ve
seriously hurt you.”

Damn, that blow to his pride really stung.

Quinn snorted. Nash shot him a look. The bastard turned away,
his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Now, sweetheart,” Quinn said in a strangled voice, facing
them again. “That drunken loser had no chance against Nash.”

Crista frowned then winced as the movement obviously pulled
at her sore cheek. Nash growled. Her eyes widened.

Yeah, that’s right, sugar. I’m no teddy bear.

She gazed at him suspiciously. “Sam’s a big man. He could’ve
hurt you badly. I would never have forgiven myself if that had happened. Next
time, please, just stay out of it.”

Oh shit no. No way would he let her get away with thinking
that. Possessiveness raced through him, dissolving his resolve to keep away
from her.

Nash leaned down, staring straight into her eyes. “Next
time, darlin’, you run straight for me or Quinn, you got it? Whichever one of
us is closer, you head for. Because if I ever see you in harm’s way again, I’m
going to completely lose control and that is something none of us wants to
see.”

Crista gulped as she stared up at Nash’s face. Both men
towered over her. Yet they didn’t scare her with their obvious strength. She
had the crazy urge to pull them close and let them surround her in their
safety.

Waving a hand in front of her face, she attempted to cool
herself down. The fire racing through her had little to do with the temperature
outside and everything to do with the two men crowding her. Crista shifted
uneasily, praying her arousal wasn’t obvious. She was close to exploding, her
pussy wet, her clit engorged and throbbing.

Each night as she tried to sleep, visions of the three of
them together, naked, making love intruded, tormenting her. But Quinn and Nash
could never be interested in her. And she wouldn’t know what to do with them if
they were.

Nash could be such a sweetheart, his manner around her
always respectful, almost gentle. Unlike Quinn, who had an edge. Quinn tended
to be blunter, rougher, what you saw was what you got.

Now she wondered if Nash merely hid his true personality
behind a mask. Today she had seen definite glimpses of a harder, more dominant
man. She’d been with a controlling man before. That was not an experience she
wished to repeat. Ever.

“Maybe we should take her to the hospital,” Nash said to
Quinn in concern. “She seems a bit out of it to me. Her cheekbone could be
broken.”

Quinn frowned. “I checked her over, but I could’ve missed
something.”

“Uh-uh, no way am I going to the doctor,” she disagreed.
“Although if you want me to take you for those knuckles, I will.” It was the
least she could do.

Both men looked at her incredulously.

“Yeah, we’ll get her checked over then she can go to the
motel and rest,” Quinn said.

Crista folded her arms over her chest. No way. She might be
a soft touch, but she was no doormat to be walked over. “No,” she said firmly.

Quinn raised his eyebrow in question. Nash glared. How had
she been so fooled about him?

“I am not going to the hospital, and I am not going back to
the motel to rest. I’m going to stay here, and when the police come I’ll deal
with them.”

Nash growled. “You’ve got a hell of a shiner coming up,
Crista. You could have a concussion for all we know. You need to be checked
over and you need to take it easy.”

Crista rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a concussion. I didn’t
pass out or anything. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been hit before, you
know.” Andrew had done far worse and she’d survived.

“What?” both men yelled.

A knock at the door saved her from an explanation for the
moment. But as Quinn opened the door to the police, she knew this wasn’t the
end of things.

* * * * *

Crista swept some blusher across her cheeks, being extra
gentle. Luckily her face didn’t look as bad as she’d expected. She peered
critically at her dress, sucking her stomach in. Did the material hug her
curves too tightly? Did she look ridiculous? She’d bought the dress a year ago
for her cousin’s wedding. Her friend Trudy had helped her choose it. Trudy had
wanted to her to buy the dress in bright turquoise. Crista had insisted on
black. After all, black was slimming, right?

Why the hell was she fussing over her appearance? She was
going out to look for her brother, not to pick up a man. Certainly not to
impress two men who probably wouldn’t even be there.

Steeling her shoulders, she took a deep breath.
Focus on
dealing with Doug.
She didn’t know what he’d been thinking, sending Sam to
her for money.

Crista rubbed her temple, willing her burgeoning headache to
dissipate. The old Doug would never have put her in danger. He’d have been
there, dealing with Sam himself. Alcohol had stolen her brother from her. A day
didn’t go by when she didn’t long to have her brother back, the boy who’d
teased her endlessly but defended her ferociously.

One day, she’d been walking home from school when Sally, a
big, freckle-faced girl pushed her into the mud. Doug had chased Sally away
then walked with Crista the rest of the way, hosing her off before their mom
had gotten home. Their mother, bless her, would have stormed over to Sally’s
house filled with indignant anger and demanding restitution. And Crista’s life
would’ve been hell.

Instead, ten-year-old Doug had put their clothes in the
washing machine, telling their mom that he’d slipped in some mud and Crista had
fallen over trying to help him up. Doug was always getting into some sort of
trouble, so their mom never questioned him.

Some things hadn’t changed.

Sighing, Crista pushed her memories aside and stepped out of
the motel room. Her brother was no longer ten, and he had to start taking
responsibility for his actions.

* * * * *

“I’m going to drag him out back and pound some sense into
him,” Quinn growled.

They’d gone through a complete reversal, Nash realized with
amusement. Quinn now rode the edge of his temper, wanting to destroy anyone who
posed a threat to Crista. And at the moment he had his eyes on an extremely
drunk Doug Grayson.

“You can’t just take him out back and beat on him, Quinn.”

“Give me one good reason why not,” Quinn snarled.

“Crista.”

Quinn turned to stare at Nash.

“She’d never forgive you if you hurt her brother and you
know it.”

Quinn settled back and ran a hand over his face tiredly.
They’d chosen this booth because it afforded some privacy in the crowded bar
and it allowed them a good view of most of the room. “You’re right. He makes me
so angry though. He leaves her to do everything while he sits here, drinking
away all their money. He should be looking after her, making sure no one hurts
her.”

“Seems like she’s got someone else to look out for her.”
Nash couldn’t disguise the jealousy in his voice.
Idiot.

The full force of Quinn’s gaze hit him. “Oh no, you don’t
get to do that.” Quinn’s voice grew deep, making Nash’s cock harden and his
balls tighten, both begging for relief.

“Do what?” Nash snapped, annoyed by his reaction to the
other man.

“You don’t get to step back from her. You don’t throw my
feelings in my face when you feel exactly the same. And you don’t get to run
away. Not again.”

Nash sat back as though he’d been slapped. Then fury surged
through him. “You’ve got some nerve. I’m only sitting here with you because of
Crista. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be talking to you at all. I did not
fucking run away. You pushed me away. I was your dirty little secret,
remember?”

“I was an asshole,” Quinn admitted. “I know that. An asshole
and a fool, but I’ve wised up. I told my family everything. I told them about
you, about the club. I’ve come here for you. Damn it! I’ll get down on my knees
and beg you to take me back. Is that what you want?”

Nash shook his head, his voice stolen by shock. No, he
didn’t want that. He didn’t want Quinn to be anything other than who he was. Cranky,
forceful and blunt. He wanted the whole man. But Nash couldn’t bear to be
hidden away as though he were something to be ashamed of.

“I don’t want to hide who I am anymore,” Quinn continued as
though he’d read Nash’s mind. “And I certainly don’t want to hide my feelings
about you. I want you, Nash, more every day. You gave me a wake-up call when
you left, one I badly needed. I love you.”

Nash sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “That’s a hell of
a way to tell a man.” How could he trust what Quinn said?

“If I can ever get you to forgive me and give me another
chance, I’ll spend every fucking day making it up to you. Turn me away if you
need to because I know you have no reason to trust what I say. Just know that
every time you walk, I will follow, and I will hound you until you give me
another chance.”

Could Quinn be serious? Did he mean it? Or was he just
saying what he thought Nash wanted to hear? Nash wanted him but he couldn’t
take any more rejection if Quinn decided he couldn’t handle this. And yet,
could he stand to turn him away?

“Punish me if you need to,” Quinn continued in a quieter
voice. Nash had to move closer, just to hear him over the noise in the bar. “I
deserve it. But while you’re making me earn your trust and your love, please
don’t hurt Crista at the same time. I’ve seen the way she looks at you and the
way you look at her. You care about her, Nash. Don’t try to deny it. Please
don’t take off. Don’t hurt her because you’re mad at me.”

Nash took a deep swallow of his beer. He needed time to
process this.

“You’d use her to keep me from leaving?” he asked.

“Fuck, no. I care about her too.”

Nash studied Quinn’s face. Saw his real feelings. Quinn had
only been here two weeks, how could he have come to care about Crista in that
short space of time?

Easily. Nash had fallen for her just as quickly. Something
about her drew him to her, made him want to coddle her, protect her and make
her scream with pleasure. Could Quinn possibly feel the same? If so, what the
hell did they do?