Page 4 of Bound

“I’m not taking your money, Declan,” Quinn barks as her cheeks slowly begin to turn a shade of red, similar to that of her hair. “I’m not a charity. I earn my money.”

“Shhhh!” Layla whisper-shouts as she storms toward us from the hallway. “The two of you are going to wake Fiona up again. Both of you are so damn stubborn.”

I’m not being stubborn. I’m right. I’m just trying to take care of her, like I promised.

“We don’t need to fight about this,” I dictate, crossing my arms and glaring at Quinn, “because we are not going to stop taking care of you.”

“If I’m not working for it, I don’t want it,” Quinn mimics my tone and mockingly crosses her arms to mirror my stance while raising a brow.

“You are all impossible!” Layla exclaims, tossing her arms in the air. “The solution is pretty simple. Just hire her.”

“To dowhat?” Quinn and I reply practically in unison. We all know that she will probably never work in the bar again, and she’s been quite clear the club is too much right now, too. Based on how much she jumped when we walked into the apartment, it’s not something she will be up to for quite some time.

“She needs a job. You need a nanny. It seems pretty simple to me,” Layla states diplomatically, oblivious to what she’s actually asking.

“I…I can’t,” Quinn stammers, her eyes darting between me and Layla. Her lips repeatedly part, and I know she has more to say.Things we don’t talk about.But no further words come from her.She merely stares at me as though she’s waiting for me to fix the Pandora’s box that Layla is slowly prying open.

“Why not?” Layla shrugs.

I don’t give Quinn a chance to answer and blurt, “She doesn’t even like kids.” It’s a lie. I know it is. I merely said it, hoping she would go along with it. The way her face scrunches, I quickly realize that’s not happening.

“I love kids,” she huffs.

“Then it’s settled,” Layla chirps with a pleased smirk spreading across her face. “I’ll finish the week with Fiona to give Quinn a chance to get her things in order. She can move in over the weekend.”

What the fuck just happened?

CHAPTER FOUR

QUINN

I have cursed Layla nearly every day this week. As I watch the movers grab the last box from the entryway, I swear silently once more about the situation she’s put me in.

Not that she is even remotely aware of what she’s done.

And not that I plan to tell her.

When I finish, I take a moment to silently berate myself. As much as Layla is the one who insisted I become Fiona’s nanny, I’m the one who could have denounced the whole idea. What scares me is that part of me wanted this—because I could have said no. I had almost a week to get out of this.

But I didn’t.

And then again, neither did Declan.

“We’ll head straight to your new place with your things, ma’am,” the guy in charge of the moving crew explains. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride over there?”

“No. Uh…I mean…no, thank you,” I fumble through the rejection of his offer. While he seems nice, and I am certain he means well,I’m not getting in the car with a man I don’t know. Being alone in this apartment with four strange men was stress-inducing enough. It was made only slightly better by the armed security Tristan sent to make me feel safer. “I actually have a friend waiting for me downstairs.”

He nods before responding, “Just didn’t want to leave you stranded. We’ll start unloading as soon as we get across town.”

After giving my keys to the super and collecting my security deposit, which I will be forcing Declan to let me give to him in exchange for paying off the remaining months on my lease, I head out to the front of the building. Waiting for me in a large, black Suburban are two of the security guys who work for the Evans. The guy previously in my apartment is behind the wheel. A big, redheaded guy—I think his name is Rory—climbs from the passenger seat and opens the rear door of the Suburban for me. “Do you need to make any stops on the way?” he gruffly asks as I slide across the black leather.

I shake my head to answer, and he shuts the door. The moment he retakes his seat upfront and closes his own door, we begin our drive toward Midtown. As usual, it’s silent with the exception of the bustling city traffic around us. For what these men have in muscles and their ability to keep us all safe, they definitely lack in conversation skills. I don’t even try to hold small talk with the security guys anymore. I’d be better off talking to the back of the seat.

When we pull up to Declan’s building, Rory immediately opens my door. I slide out and stand on the sidewalk and stare up at the massive skyscraper before me. This luxurious apartment building is a far cry from the historic, four-story one in Throggs Neck that I’ve called home for the past three years.“Miss?” Rory’s deep voice startles me, immediately drawing my attention. “It’s best if we get you inside and off the street.”

While I am provided withvery sparse details, I am fully aware that the war between the Evans and the Bratva is still in full swing. The news runs rampant with shootings and building fires. Not a day goes by that the boys are always riddled with bruises, bloodied knuckles, and, I’m sure, other wounds I’m not privy to.

I’m also not naïve. The blood of one Bratva man is on my hands, and as hard as they tried, I didn’t die that night in the bar like I was supposed to. I am both unfinished business and a walking reason for vengeance. My security detail isn’t just for my comfort; it’s for my protection.Eventually, they will come for me.

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