Indefinite (Salvation #6)(32)

“You’re fired from protecting me or being around me—again.”

“Keep trying, fragolina. I’m unfireable.” He grins. “Besides, I love you, and as the man who is willing to lay down his life for you, it’s my duty to be here day in and day out until you see the error of your ways.”

Seriously, this is going to be hell. He has no intention of giving up.

“Well, try to keep up,” I say and then head for the stairs. I don’t care that I’m on the eighteenth floor, that his leg hurts thanks to overdoing it with his stupid jog with my father, or that I can probably outrun him.

Going down the stairs is faster than waiting for the elevator.

“You think this is going to deter me?” he asks, staying right on my heels.

I knew it wouldn’t, but at this point, making him miserable is my only source of entertainment regarding this entire situation.

Instead of arguing with him, which would probably end in some sort of kiss or loss of clothes in the stairwell, I put my music on and head to work.

Quinn does exactly what he promised when we were at my place, he is sort of there, but not. This time, there is no talking, taking my headphones, or irritating me. I’m able to get on the subway, get off, and grab my bagel and coffee from my favorite shop on the way, all without him even being in my line of vision.

I know he’s there. Regardless of whether I can see him, I can sense him.

After I get my food, I walk the streets of Manhattan, smelling the roasted nuts, coffee, and smog as I go. All the while knowing that, if there’s any chance of danger, he’ll be right there.

When I’m about a block away, I decide to test my theory.

I push forward a little too hard, bumping a rather large gentleman dressed in a huge sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that are low enough to show that he’s wearing Calvin Klein boxers. The force of my accidental bump sends his food and coffee tumbling to the ground. He turns, and in typical New York fashion, he yells. “Jesus! Watch where you’re going.”

“You watch it,” I spit back.

“Lady, you pushed me, and now I’m out of my breakfast.”

“Oh?” I sneer. “I’m so sorry you’re so delicate that you can’t handle it. Looks to me like you could afford to skip a few meals.”

He glares, and I know this is going to be bad. “Excuse me?” The bald man takes a step toward me. “You push me and then you come at me like this? You should be apologizing or offering to buy me a coffee and donut, but you want to be a bitch? Fuck you, lady.”

What started as a fun experiment has now pissed me the hell off. There are only four people in the world who can call me a bitch, and this douchebag isn’t one of them. “Excuse me? You’re calling me a bitch?” My Jersey accent gets even thicker. “Fuck you harder.”

The bald asshole chuckles once. “You’re not worth it. Stupid bitch.”

I go to move forward to push him or maybe knock his ass out when a pair of arms wrap around me from behind, spinning me around before setting me down. I go to move, but I’m met with a very large and angry person blocking me with an arm out.

“Apologize to the lady,” Quinn’s voice is filled with danger.

The hairs on my arms rise as goose bumps appear.

Oh, you’re in big trouble now, Baldy. My ex-boyfriend-navy-SEAL-who-can-kill-you is about to go commando on your ass.

I peek out from behind him with a grin. “You heard the man. Apologize or get knocked out.”

Quinn levels me with a stare.

I slink back behind him, my hands on his broad back, and I can’t stop smiling. He was here, ready to save me even if I provoked it. There’s no doubt he knows exactly what I was doing, but then again, it serves him right.

“Look, I don’t know who you people think you are, but I’m not apologizing to no one. She pushed me and then wanted to get tough, control your woman.”

Oh, he’s going to die. Maybe my big plan wasn’t exactly the best idea. I touch Quinn’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Quinn, why don’t we let Mr. Clean here go about his day with his shitty attitude.”

He doesn’t move.

This is bad.

I try again. “You know, you could kill him, but then you’d be in jail and I would be out in this big scary world without a protector. Imagine all the trouble I could get into . . .”

Not like I don’t live a perfectly safe life pretty much daily, but whatever. He needs to calm down. Also, I feel a little guilty since I created this hot mess.

Quinn’s shoulders relax slightly, and I use that opening to get around him. “Listen, you should go before he kills you, and he really will, we’ll chalk this up to another day in New York City, okay?”

“Whatever.” He huffs and then walks off.

Thank God.

I turn to Quinn, who is still fuming, and the small amount of guilt I had is now quite a bit more. I was trying to prove something to myself, but what if he hadn’t been there? Then what? I would’ve been in some real trouble. Not to mention, I was toying with him, which is what I’ve accused him of doing for years.

“Thanks for jumping in like that,” I say sheepishly.

Quinn closes his eyes, his hands holding my wrists. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ashton.” His voice is full of warning.