Bound to Them (7 page)

“Shh, shh, it will all be over soon,” he crooned as she
whimpered. “I’m going to lift you down.”

“No, you can’t,” she cried.

“Crista,” he warned, deliberately hardening his voice.
Enough was enough. She’d make herself ill with worry.

“I’m too heavy.”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Quinn growled. “What did you say?”

“I’m too heavy, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Oh darlin’, if you weren’t already terrified out of your
mind, you’d be in so much trouble for that nonsense.” As Nash spoke, he slid
her over the side, not giving her any warning. Quinn grasped her, cutting off
her scream. He caught her up against his chest, holding her close as she cried.

Nash quickly climbed down off the scaffolding and reached
for her. “Give her to me.”

“No way.”

Quinn ignored the frustration on Nash’s face as he turned
away, keeping hold of Crista. Nash had gotten to play hero, now it was his
turn.

Maybe it was a bit petty, but damned if he would let her go
now that he had her in his arms.

“Put me down.”

He walked toward his Jeep. “No.”

“I can walk. I’m too he—”

“Don’t say it,” he interrupted her. “I’m not the gentleman
Nash is. I hear you disparaging yourself one more time and you will end up over
my knee.”

Her eyes widened as she gaped at him. Quinn stared down at
her calmly. Her gaze dropped as she blushed. Good. She needed to understand
some rules. And one rule was that he would retaliate against anyone who put her
down. Including herself.

“Open the door for me,” he ordered Nash.

“Give her to me and open it yourself.”

“You can’t take her on your bike,” Quinn said. “I’m driving
her back to the motel. Now open the door for me.”

Nash blew out a deep breath but did as Quinn asked.

“Wait. What are you doing? My car—”

“Will still be here tomorrow,” Quinn soothed her. “No one
would steal that heap of junk.” Another thing he’d change once she was his. No
woman of his would drive around in a tiny rust bucket. His Jeep could run right
over the top of the tiny car.

He placed her on the seat and did up her seat belt.

“I’ll meet you there,” Nash said before turning to his bike.

Crista wiped the tears from her cheeks as Nash sped ahead of
them on his Ducati. Normally she’d be drooling over how sexy he looked on his
motorcycle. Tonight, she was so embarrassed by her behavior that she barely
even spared him a glance.

“So you want to tell me what the hell you were doing up on
that scaffolding?” Quinn asked in a quiet voice infused with steel. But his
hand reached over and grabbed hers, squeezing gently.

“Working. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He glanced at her, his brow raised. She blushed, ducking her
head. Damn it, why did she keep doing that? Taking a deep breath, she raised
her chin to stare back at him. His lips twitched as he started the truck.

“Got some backbone there, don’t you, sweetheart? Just make
sure you don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

What does that mean?

“And we both know that climbing around a building site is
not part of your job. Your job involves your feet being safely on the ground. I
want to know why you would climb scaffolding when you’re obviously terrified of
heights.”

“I thought I would be okay. That platform is barely off the
ground. I’m being ridiculous.” Taking a breath, she tried to still her
trembling stomach. Why couldn’t she get over this?

“I’m not asking again, Crista.”

She sighed. “Fine. You know Brett? Well, Doug hired him and
he, umm, doesn’t always do the greatest job. Sometimes he rushes things.”

“So get rid of him.”

Her eyes shifted away. “I can’t. He really needs the job.”

“What?” Quinn asked incredulously. “Honey, you can’t let
that affect your decision.”

“How can I not?” she cried. “Just look what happened with
Sam. That ended up a disaster.”

Quinn sighed. “And now you don’t want to fire anyone else.”

God, she sounded pathetic. “What I do is none of your
business.”

“It is my business when your decisions put you in danger.”

“I wasn’t in danger. I was stuck on some scaffolding because
of a foolish fear of heights.”

He ran his thumb over the top of her hand. “Lots of people
are afraid of heights, sweetheart. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

And just like that she melted a little.

“When Doug was around everything was pretty good. But
lately…” She trailed off, feeling disloyal by complaining about her brother.
“Well, Doug hasn’t been around. And with Pete gone—”

“You thought you had to check up on Brett’s work,” Quinn
finished her sentence.

“Yeah,” she agreed, glad he understood.

Quinn pulled into the motel parking lot. “You know you
could’ve asked Nash or me to check his work. But you were trying to prove a
point to yourself, weren’t you? You were trying to prove that you could get up
on that scaffolding and not get scared. Asking for help when you need it
doesn’t make you weak, Crista. It makes you smart. If we hadn’t been there
you’d still be up that scaffolding. That is unacceptable.” He turned the Jeep’s
engine off and looked over at her. “From now on you keep both feet on the
ground, you got me?”

Before she could come up with a reply befitting that
statement, Nash—ever the gentleman—had her door open.

Crista took a deep breath as he reached across to undo her
seat belt, her nipples instantly peaking as his arm brushed against her
breasts.

“I’m capable of undoing my own belt.” She needed to get away
from them. Now. Nash raised a brow but stepped back. As she turned to get out,
Quinn landed a heavy slap on her butt cheeks.

As she walked toward her motel room, she could feel them
behind her, their gazes burning as they watched her. Three doors down from her
room, she stopped and turned, squaring her shoulders.

“Thank you for helping me and for the ride home, but I don’t
need you two following me.”

They stood, staring down at her, and she gulped at the sight
they presented. Tall, gorgeous Nash with his blond hair in disarray, his eyes
caring and hot. Then Quinn with his wide shoulders and strong features, his
gaze stern and piercing. She quivered, her body one giant mass of sensation.
Cream coated her folds as nerves danced through her stomach. It was only a
matter of time before she threw caution to the wind and jumped them.

Jesus, she had to get away from them.

“Give me your key, darlin’.” Nash spoke quietly. “You’re
still trembling. We’re not leaving you in this state.”

She let out a bark of laughter before smashing her palm over
her mouth. If only they knew her exact state. Would they offer to cure her? She
placed her other hand over the one covering her mouth, knowing how stupid she
looked but not wanting to give way to hysterics.

Quinn eyed her. “Wonder what that’s all about,” he said to
Nash as though she weren’t standing right there, looking idiotic, hands over
her mouth in case she stupidly asked them to come in and fuck her into
oblivion.

Nash looked at her in concern. “She’s overwrought from
working too hard. I’ve got a good mind to put her to bed and make her stay
there until morning.”

Are you offering to stay with me?

Quinn’s lips twitched. “She might if she had an incentive to
stay there.”

She gazed at him in shock, her hands dropping. “What?” she
gasped.

“Quit it,” Nash commanded. “She needs some TLC, not you
pushing yourself on her.”

Crista met Quinn’s gaze, unable to look away.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Quinn said wickedly. “I don’t think I’d
have to push at all.”

Nash let out an exasperated breath. “Keys,” he barked,
making her jump.

Quinn sent Nash a look of disgust. “I thought I was the
insensitive brute and you were the smooth one,” he muttered as Crista handed
over the motel room key.

Nash shook his head. “Which room?”

“Two oh seven,” she replied.

Nash skirted around her as Quinn placed his hand on her
lower back and guided her along behind Nash.

“What the fuck?” Nash swore, pausing outside her door.

He held his hand out, ordering them silently to stop. Crista
ignored him and stepped to the side. Quinn reached out and pulled her behind
his large body.

“What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

Quinn kept hold of her.

“Quinn, what are you doing? I want to get past.” She really
needed a long bath and an even longer sleep. Exhaustion swamped her, making it
hard to keep her head up.

“Stay where you are,” he ordered her. “What’s wrong, Nash?”

“Crista?” Nash called. “Did you remember to lock your door
this morning?”

At Nash’s words, Crista paused in the process of shoving
Quinn’s arm out of her way.

“Crista,” Quinn growled. “Say that you were a good girl and
locked your door this morning.” His voice dared her to tell him otherwise. She
shivered in reaction, glad she could tell him the truth. Lying had never come
easily to her.

“Yes, I locked the damn door,” she snapped.

“Wait here with her,” Nash told Quinn. “I’m going to check
things out.”

Quinn shook his head. “You stay. I’m going in.”

“No,” Nash said harshly. “Stay here and protect her.”

“Someone broke into my motel room?” Crista asked as Nash
prodded her door open and stepped inside.

Please don’t let it be Andrew, please.

“Whoever was in there will be long gone. Especially after
all the noise we made.” Quinn sighed impatiently. “What’s taking him so long?”
he muttered a minute later. “Damn, I can’t stand it. Come on, let’s go.”

Crista followed him inside.

Nash looked around Crista’s motel room, angry beyond words.
Pure, unadulterated fury surged through his veins.

“Jesus. This isn’t what I expected,” Quinn said.

He knew what Quinn meant. Nash thought he’d find the room
trashed, burgled. But not this.

“Oh no, not again.”

Both men turned to look at Crista, who stood in the doorway,
staring at the room in dismay.

“Who is he, Crista? A boyfriend? A lover?” Quinn asked
harshly. Crista looked at him in shock. Even Nash was surprised by the jealousy
in the other man’s voice. Not that Nash didn’t feel it himself.

Nash stared in disgust at the rose petals strewn throughout
the room. A bottle of champagne sat beside a heart-shaped box of chocolates on
the small dining table.

“Where is he?” Nash snarled.

“Long gone I hope.” Crista looked at him, her eyes glazed
with…fear? But that didn’t make sense, did it?

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Quinn glanced around, looking everywhere but at Crista. “You
need to tell him to lock up after himself. Anyone could have walked in here.”
He turned away.

Nash grabbed his arm. Quinn glared at him, but he just shook
his head and nodded over at Crista.

Quinn finally glanced at her.

Crista didn’t look at all happy. In fact, she looked damned
terrified. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, full of fear. Her breath was
coming fast, in small, scared pants.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” she cried, her arms
hugging her body.

“Darlin’?” Nash asked, softening his voice. “Do you know who
did this?”

She nodded and took a shuddering breath. Nash stepped slowly
closer. Now that he’d pushed the jealousy aside, he could see the way she
trembled, how she stood poised to flee.

“Who did this, Crista?” Nash asked.

“Andrew O’Ryan.”

“And who is he, baby? How do you know him?” he asked.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend. How did he find me? How did he get in
here?”

Her terror had his stomach tied up in knots. “I don’t know,”
he said soothingly. “But Quinn and I are going to find out, okay? Has this
happened before?”

She nodded. “This is the third time. I’m terrified that one
day he’ll be here, waiting for me. What am I going to do?”

He caught her against him as she sagged. “Right now, you’re
not going to do anything. Let us handle this. I’m going to take you to my room
while Quinn calls the police.”

“There’s no point,” she said woodenly. “They won’t take me
seriously. They’ll just laugh and say that most women would love to get flowers
and chocolates.”

Nash stiffened. He flicked a glance over at Quinn, saw the
fury flare in his lover’s eyes.

“The police here said that?” Quinn whispered coldly.

She shook her head. “The first time this happened we were in
Geraldine. Small town, small-minded, ignorant deputy.”

“Don’t worry, Crista.” Quinn stepped up to her and clasped
her chin. Leaning down, he kissed her. Nash’s already hard cock stiffened more
as he watched the intimate moment between them. Quinn leaned back. “They’ll
take this very seriously. I promise.”

“Why won’t he leave me alone?” she whispered, her voice
almost lost. Nash tightened his hold on her.

“He won’t get near you, I promise,” Nash told her, meaning
every word. “Come on, you’re shivering.” Picking her up, he carried her out the
door as Quinn reached for his cell phone.

* * * * *

Crista lay back against the bath and tried to relax. Yet
every time she closed her eyes, she saw Andrew’s face before her, twisted in hatred,
his hand coming toward her.

She shuddered in fear. Her breath came quickly, her body
ready to run. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to calm herself. Crista bit
her lip, holding back her urge to cry. Crying didn’t help. She had to think.
Tired, she rubbed her forehead, a headache throbbing at her temples.

She couldn’t run. No, she would not let him have that power
over her. Besides, where would she run to? Home wasn’t safe. He could obviously
find her anywhere.

And why should she run, dammit? Why should she give up her
life because he was psycho? This would never end unless she stopped him, unless
she finally took a stand instead of hiding as if she were a child afraid of the
dark.

“You okay in there?” Nash called.

Crista quickly glanced at the door. She’d locked it, right?
Maybe she’d forgotten. She’d been in such a daze when he’d carried her into the
bathroom.

“I’m fine.”

“There’s a robe on the back of the door when you want to get
out, all right? I’ll let you know when the police get here. You just stay there
and rest.”

“Thanks,” she called back, warmth infusing her at the caring
in his voice. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken care of her.

Tempted to fall into Nash’s arms and let him take care of
everything, she sighed. If only she could. But that wouldn’t be fair to him. No
way did he want to inherit her problems.

Groaning, she rose and reached for a towel, trying to force
her mind on to something more pleasant. Like Nash kissing her. Quinn sucking
her nipples… Urgh. She was in for a sleepless night. No matter what her dreams
consisted of.

And that’s all they would be—dreams. Quinn and Nash had
barely even glanced her way since they’d driven her home from the bar the other
night. Probably hoping she hadn’t heard them say they wanted her. Probably
regretting such a colossal mistake.

A knock sounded. Grabbing the robe, she pulled the soft
terrycloth around her and tied the belt. “Yes?”

“Police are here, sugar,” Nash told her. “Come out when
you’re ready.”

Crista checked her reflection. She pushed a few strands of
hair off her damp face. She didn’t have time to fix it. It would have to do.
Pinching her cheeks for color, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves and
stepped out of the bathroom.

Nash strode back to the living area. “So, what are you going
to do to find this fucker?” he asked. Grabbing his beer, he gestured at Quinn,
silently asking if he wanted one. The other man shook his head.

“Well, after I talk to Miss Grayson, I’ll go talk to Anita,
she works at the front desk. Then I’ll talk to the guests in the neighboring
rooms.”

“Most of them are part of our crew,” Nash said, frustrated.
“It’s unlikely they were even around.”