Page 37 of Knot your Princess
“Sit your ass back down,” Franco snaps. “I’m not done, and we are best buddies now, remember? Inseparable.”
I look around to see if I can escape, but the Quinn pack is closely knit, and all eyes are on me, alphas, betas, male and female; they are all daring me to make a move. I haven’t even been able to have a wank in peace since I got here two days ago. I’m getting seriously pissed off.
“Fucking hell,” I grouse and sit. I don’t have a choice. As much as I love a good rumble, I know my limits. It’s not like I can even pretend to be Cain to slip past them. He lent me two sets of clothes, one to wear, one to wash, and they consist of t-shirts and combat pants. He has tats down both arms, whereas mine is on my back. A huge phoenix that has special meaning, rising from the ashes and all that bollocks. If I could just find a jumper or a jacket of his, I could try but probably fail. It would be too obvious, and making a run for it in the dead of night is also not an option. This place is as heavily guarded as Fort Knox, twenty-four-seven.
“Dad’s back,” an alpha called Tony says. He is Quinn’s youngest son, so I believe. I find it weird that he and his two brothers live out here in the main compound instead of the family residence behind electronic locks.
“Come,” Cain says, standing up.
Pulling a face, I stand again and follow him and Franco out to the driveway, where a black van pulls up, and Quinn climbs out before it’s even stopped. He opens the back door and helps Nico out, who looks the worst for wear.
“You okay?” Cain asks, going over to help.
Nico grimaces. “Yeah, fantastic, you?”
Cain glares at Quinn. “It’d be better if I knew when my arse was going to be kicked so I could prepare.”
“Ha,” Quinn lets out a loud guffaw. “The torment is in the waiting, cocksucker.”
I stand idly by, feeling like a spare part. Even though Aidan Quinn must be fuming that his daughter has been abducted, he is acting like it’s a typical day. His front is clearly belying his inner worry and concern. I can’t even help with that because I don’t know anything — not that I would, of course. He is still a criminal that I’m trying to put away. I find it grossly sickening that the IPP has all but abandoned me here. They must know, even though it’s not like I’ve had a chance to ring them and tell them my whereabouts.
Cain shoves his shoulder under Nico’s armpit and helps him hobble back into the compound. I turn to follow, seeing as Franco is also heading back, when Quinn stops me.
“Atlas, wait a minute.”
I glare at him. “What?”
“I know who you’re working for.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s that then?” I’ve been waiting for this. The accusation.
“You’re IPP, yeah?”
“Have no idea what you’re talking about. I had the fortune to run into your daughter at the gallery, taking a bit of a shine to her, I decide to check you out. Unlucky for me, I came across these arseholes.” I gesture to the retreating group. “Who then abducted me.”
“Riiight,” he drawls. “Okay, that’s your story and you’re sticking to it? In that case, know that any alpha who comes sniffing around my daughter is put through a stringent background check and will end up dead if he doesn’t pass. Care to change your story?”
“Nope. Check away.” I know my cover will hold…unless the IPP have decided to cut their losses, that being me and I end up being outed in the middle of the Quinn backlands.
Fun fucking times.
Turning away, unconcerned, I amble back into the compound, realising that I’m alone. No little bodyguard to watch my every move. Quinn has let me off the hook.
Turning back to the door, intending to make a run for it, I hesitate. Run to what, exactly? Back to the IPP where I will be followed, without a doubt. I’m in the lion’s den. Surely that means destroying from within?
The question is, do I want to?
I don’t know anything anymore. But one thing is bugging me…turning my back on the door, I head down the corridor to the living quarters and find Nico in a room a way down on the right. He is alone, stripping off his bloodied and tattered shirt and throwing it on the bed with a grunt.
He looks up when I lounge in the doorway, leaning against it with a curious glare.
“What?” he growls.
“You’re a fucker. You let her be taken.”
“Don’t be a fucking cock.”
“Ouch. You sure about that?”
