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.”
&n
bsp; 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?
Nash loved Quinn, despite the fact he could be a real asshole. But could Nash trust him?
“I made a mistake.” Quinn sighed. “I pushed away the best thing in my life because I was too scared to even try to make it work. But I refuse to believe that you feel nothing for me anymore. I refuse to let you go. I’m sorry.”
“Damn it, Quinn.” Nash slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the glasses. That drew a few glances from those closest to them and he sat back, waiting until they had all turned around again. “You can’t just suddenly change your mind and expect everything to be all right.”
“You’re right,” Quinn agreed immediately, watching Nash steadily.
Nash calmed slightly, unclenching his fists.
“All I’m asking for is a chance to show you that I want you in my life. Forever,” he said, his face filled with determination. “And I think there’s a possibility that Crista could be a part of that too.”
A few weeks ago Quinn had been terrified of his feelings for Nash, of what people would think of their relationship, their lifestyle, and now he was ready to just jump into a threesome? What the hell had happened to him? As much as the idea might appeal to Nash, and shit did his cock think it was a grand idea, he wasn’t about to risk Crista being hurt by Quinn’s impulsiveness.
“You realize what you’re talking about, don’t you? A permanent threesome. Because she is not a woman you can walk away from. She is not some cheap hook-up,” Nash told him angrily.
“I know that,” Quinn replied, his voice taking on a wounded air. “I see the way you look at each other. You care about her. You’re attracted to her. And I am too. I think she could be important to both of us.”
Nash slid him a sideways glance. “You’re really interested in her?” he asked. “I thought maybe you were pretending to make me jealous.”
Quinn snorted. “I thought the same thing about you. I’ll admit I had thoughts of drawing you back to me by using her. But she doesn’t deserve that. She’s not like other women. She’s special.”
Kayla had dropped hints about Quinn having been hurt by a woman in the past, but Quinn had never mentioned her to Nash.
Quinn ran his hand over his bald head. “Look, the more I get to know her, the more I fall for her. Am I attracted to her? Hell, yes. Do I want her between us, beside us, with us? God, yes. And you feel the same, right?”
Nash’s feelings were in turmoil. He gazed down at the table, trying to pull his thoughts together. For a man used to being in control, to taking the lead, it was strange to feel so confused.
“And if the two of us can’t be together then she’ll be stuck in the middle,” he said. “Not fair to someone as sweet and innocent as she is.”
Quinn took a deep breath. “If that happens then I’ll step away. I’ll leave the two of you.”
Nash gaped at him. “What? Why?”
“Because I would rather be miserable and know that the two of you are happy. I want you to be happy, Nash. I owe you that much at least.”
Nash shook his head. Could he take this risk? Could he stand to lose Quinn again? Probably not. But would he forever regret not trying? Definitely.
“Look,” Quinn said almost desperately. “I know that I’m asking a lot. I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I’m not perfect, and I’m bound to fuck up from time to time. But I love you. I know we could be happy.” Quinn grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. A surge of heat raced through Nash, his stomach dropping as pleasure enveloped him. “I don’t intend for us to hide who we are. People will just have to get used to us.”
Nash just raised a brow.
Quinn sighed. “I want this. Us. A home together. Will I have moments of doubt? Sure, but once I make up my mind about something I throw all that I am into it. I’m a bit stubborn like that.”
Nash snorted. “A bit?” But a home. Something he’d been craving for years. Could he really have everything he’d dreamed of?
“Tell me something. Why did you always stay at the motel? Why not move in with one of us?”
Nash shrugged. “Moving in with you would’ve been awkward and I didn’t want to cramp Cord and Kayla.”
“Bullshit,” Quinn told him. �
�Why don’t you try the truth?”
“What? Suddenly you’ve become all communicative and open?” Nash asked angrily.
“I’m trying,” Quinn said tiredly.
“I guess I prefer motels. I can come and go as I please.”
“You weren’t ready to make Seattle your home.”
“No, I guess not.” Nash looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m not a city boy, never have been. I always feel suffocated in them.”
“Why stay so long then?”
Nash glared at him. “Why do you think?” He took a small amount of pleasure in how red Quinn’s face grew. “I would’ve tried to make Seattle my home. For you. You know that’s just another mark against us being together, right? I mean, I’m a simple country boy, I don’t belong in the city.”
Quinn let out a bark of laughter. “There’s nothing simple about you. Look, we can work all of that out. Let’s just try. Please.”
Nash saw the sincerity in his eyes. Quinn’s hands clasped his glass tightly, his knuckles white. This meant a lot to Quinn. And it meant a lot to Nash too.
“I’m an idiot for agreeing to this.”
Quinn smiled wolfishly.
“And I’m not convinced that Crista is ready for the two of us. It’s not fair to use her as a buffer between us if we start fighting. We need to take things slowly. It’s enough to deal with the two of us being together without involving Crista. Deal?”
Quinn nodded. “Deal.”
They shook hands. Nash didn’t make a move toward anything more physical, figuring Quinn wouldn’t be ready for that kind of public display of affection.
Quinn slung his arm over his shoulders, surprising the hell out of Nash as he drew him close and kissed him full on the lips. A brief kiss that probably no one else saw, but warmth lingered on Nash’s lips.
They were silent for a long moment, sipping their beers.
“What do you suppose Crista meant when she said she’d been hit before?” Quinn asked.
Nash had been worrying over that comment all afternoon. “I don’t know. I’m going to ask her about it tomorrow. If someone has hurt her, I want to know about it.”
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