11. Lance
11
LANCE
I keep my head on a swivel as I stride along the campus sidewalk, keeping within easy reach of Quinn at all times. From the nervous glances her classmates cast in my direction as they pass, I imagine no one has doubts I’m armed—even if no one can see the guns concealed beneath my suit jacket. I’m sure they’re not allowed.
But no one’s tried to stop me from carrying them. Perhaps Killian called to inform the school about sending Quinn to school with a bodyguard. Or maybe no one wants to risk starting a confrontation with me. Either way, I’m glad. Because while no one tried coming for her during the first four days she returned to school, I’m not about to let down my guard. And I’ll be glad when her last Friday class is done so we can head back to the King house.
Quinn walks briskly beside me, hugging her heavy textbook to her chest like it’s a shield. And though she smiles every time she greets another student on their way past, I get the feeling she has to put effort into acting cheerful. Her eyes flick up in my direction as the sidewalk clears, leaving us relatively alone for a moment. And after the quick, sidelong glance, she looks straight ahead.
“You know, you could try looking a little less like a storm cloud on occasion. I think you just made poor Chad pee his pants,” she quips, her lips twitching into a grin.
I know she’s trying to tease me. I can tell because Quinn and Killian both have that dancing green flame in their eyes when they make a joke.
But I’m not in the mood today. And my scowl intensifies as I look down to meet her gaze. “Why should I care if Chad has proper control of his bladder?”
Quinn laughs, the sound light and contagious, and she shakes her head. “My point is you don’t have to take things quite so seriously. You’re glaring at my classmates like you think one of them might kidnap me.”
“I don’t know which ones are your classmates,” I point out bluntly.
Quinn rolls her eyes. “They’re the ones who turn and run the other direction every time you glower at them. Maybe try a smile every now and again?”
I frown at her.
“Come on, Lance. Do you really think Lucian’s guys are going to come for me in the middle of the day on this busy campus? In the meantime, my classmates are starting to avoid me because they think you want to murder them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I state, glaring coldly at the skateboarder who comes far too close to Quinn for comfort.
He swerves closer to the grass to give her some space when I take a step in his direction.
“Seriously, Lance. Matty called me the other day to ask if it’s okay to talk to me in your presence.”
I snort.
Perhaps I have been more on edge than usual. But I can’t seem to help the frustration building in my chest day by day. I’m furious at the Italians’ audacity to take Quinn—and that I didn’t foresee the danger and insist on increasing her protection before anything happened.
I know Killian feels the same way, which is why he pulled me out of Quinn’s room that first morning after her return to put me in charge of her protection. We both agree that making me her personal bodyguard is the best way to ensure her safety. So, what do I care if her classmates are a bunch of pansies? Quinn is what matters, not their delicate egos or lack of spine.
“Do I scare you?” I ask.
That makes her laugh again. “Of course not. But I do like having friends…”
Silence stretches between us. As far as I’m concerned, if Quinn’s not scared of me, then the rest doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have to like how I protect her. I will follow Quinn to school, social events, in short, everywhere her brother can’t constantly have an eye on her, until Lucian and his men have been taught a lesson.
It frustrates me that my new guard duty means I can’t be out hunting down and punishing the men who hurt Quinn. That’s really the only thing that might release my growing tension. And I don’t know that anyone will deliver the message quite so convincingly as I would.
At the same time, I doubt I could trust anyone else to keep an eye on Quinn right now. My protective instincts have been in overdrive since I saw her unconscious on the sidewalk that night. And lying awake, listening to her nightmares night after night is doing nothing to help me put it behind me. I know Quinn’s trying to maintain a brave face, but she’s not okay. And because of that, I’m near volcanic about the need to make someone pay.
Which is why I could give a rat’s fart whether I’m scaring her classmates.
Because I fully intend to pulverize anyone who looks at Quinn the wrong way.
“Come on, Lance. Lighten up,” she insists, dancing in front of me and turning to walk backward in time to my steps. “You’ll give yourself an aneurysm holding on to that much fury.”
“I’m fine,” I growl, looking past her at the group of three guys who take note of her ass before they look up and find me watching them.
Immediately, they make themselves scarce, dispersing into the building they stood in front of moments before. And while it gives me a sense of satisfaction to know they might think twice about ogling Quinn again, it irritates me that the only good I’ve done this week is dissuade a few frat-boy pervs from looking at her. Because as lewd as their appraisal was, they’re harmless. I can tell by the way they practically melt into the wall when I catch them.
They’re not the threat I need to be protecting her from. Meanwhile, the men who beat her hard enough with a riding crop to leave welts on her body are still out there. And though I know Killian’s on the job—that he has men hunting them down, I feel like a caged tiger, eager to track them down myself.
“All I’m saying is you should stop taking everything so seriously,” Quinn teases, still walking backward, completely oblivious to the pricks who just objectified her. “What’s the point of life if you can’t have a little fun, right? Oop!”
In her effort to give me a hard time, she must not have noticed the raised planter to her left, and her heel catches on the corner, destabilizing her as she starts to topple backward.
Without thinking, I reach forward to catch her, my hand closing around her wrist as she flings it out for balance. And with a jerk, I pull her upright and against my chest as I grip her other elbow to stabilize her.
Quinn’s eyes go wide, her cheeks coloring. But what drives a knife into my gut is the way she flinches. Probably because I accidentally grabbed her where she’s still wearing a bracelet of bruises. I drop her wrist like it’s on fire, clenching my teeth as I fight my impatience.
“This is serious, Quinn,” I growl. “They could have killed you. I should be out there destroying the bastards who thought they could touch a member of the King family and get away with it. Not strolling around campus, babysitting you.”
Hurt flashes across her face, her green eyes holding a puppy dog’s disappointment that says I insulted her personally—though that was not my intent—and I immediately feel bad for letting my frustration get the better of me.
But before I can apologize, she recovers quickly. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine following me around is the most exciting job you could have. But I bet Killian would be willing to give you a few days off from nannying his annoying little sister.” She offers me a tight-lipped grimace. “And I can stay home this weekend so you don’t have to constantly keep an eye on me.”
“Quinn…” I start, searching for how to make things right—because I know I hurt her, even if she doesn’t want to say it. But as usual, the words stick in my throat, making it impossible to talk.
“Come on. One more class, then you’re free to let loose and slaughter Italians to your heart’s content until Monday.” Her smile is watery as she turns away from me, and she skips lightly up the steps to the science building.
Silently kicking myself for letting my frustration get the better of me, I follow. And I return my attention to glowering at the people in our vicinity.