Page 93 of Unleashed

I roll my eyes, but I can’t really be mad at him. Getting Zara protected is my number one priority. “Fine.” I stand, pushing my chair into place. “But I get to be the passenger princess this time.”

29

Trevor

“Idon’t know how I feel about this.” Maren stands close to me in the kitchen, watching Zara and her new buddy Quinn like a hawk. “He looks terrifying.”

I’m not sure we’re looking at the same guy. Quinn looks like the rest of the men I’ve met from Alaskan Security. Yes, he’s generally physically large and imposing, but he hasn’t been anything but polite and friendly since we picked him up from the private airport Pierce flew him into.

“Are you seriously terrified of him, or do you think Zara is terrified of him?” My attempt at gaining clarity earns me a scoff and a shove to one shoulder.

“I’m not terrified of anybody.” Maren looks from her sister to Quinn. “Zara doesn’t seem to be afraid of him either, but I’m a little worried about the rest of the kids at her school and the aftercare center.”

That has me looking at Quinn a little differently. “I can see how that might be a problem.”

We might be in the position of when it walks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.

Or in this case, a mercenary.

“Maybe it’ll be better when he’s not wearing tactical gear.” Maren sounds skeptical.

“I’m not sure it matters. We have a signed note from a doctor saying Zara is in need of additional monitoring for the foreseeable future. Quinn has identification showing he’s licensed to provide that sort of care. They don’t really have a leg to stand on if they want to fight us on this.”

Maren rubs at her eyes, looking tired. “I hope they don’t try to argue. I don’t want to make Zara’s time at school shitty because people are mad at me.”

I reach out to rest both hands on her shoulders, working the tight muscles there with my thumbs. “If they fight us, we’ll just pull her out and send her to a private school.” A private school won’t argue over Zara having a medical aide, even if he looks a little imposing. And if they do, I’m sure I can throw money at the problem and make it go away.

“I can’t just pull her out of school, Trevor. Private school is expensive. Where am I going to come up with the money to⁠—”

“I would pay for it.” I assumed that was understood when I suggested it. “She can go to the same school my brothers and I went to.” I like the sound of it already. Zara graduating from the same place I did. Getting to see her go across the stage where we all accepted our diplomas.

Maren snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You cannot just start paying for her to go to private school. That’s not how this is going to work.”

We haven’t really established what this is, so I can’t blame Maren for being confused about how it’s going to work. I know her well enough to recognize I can’t simply tell her I’m paying for everything now and expect her to be fine with it. Not after everything she’s been through. Not after how hard she’s worked to claw her way out of the life she was born into.

I’m probably going to have to fight her every step of the way. I’d like to think one day she’ll give up and let me take care of her and Zara without an argument, but that’s not the woman she is. Which is probably why my dick is getting hard right now. A lifetime of verbal sparring sounds pretty fucking good.

Almost as good as the makeup sex that will follow it.

“Are you sure about that?” I give her a quick kiss on the lips, moving fast, both so Zara doesn’t see and so I don’t get bitten. “I’m willing to negotiate the terms.”

Maren shoots me a stare she probably thinks is a glare. “You’re always willing to negotiate the terms.”

“Only with you.” I go to the fridge, grateful my mother dropped off food for us this morning so I have plenty of options to offer everyone. “Hey, Zara. Do you want lasagna or beef and noodles for dinner?”

Her little head pops up from where she’s sprawled on the floor with her coloring books. “Lasagna.”

“Lasagna, please.” Maren offers the correction as she reaches around me to grab a couple containers of salad from the fridge.

“Puh-lease.” Zara hollers the word, dragging it out before dissolving into a fit of giggles that makes me stop in my tracks.

For years, my house has been silent. Perfectly organized and impeccably clean. Everything exactly the way I paid for it to be.

Tonight, it’s loud. Chaotic. There are coloring books and crayons strewn across the great room and book bags and shoes piled next to the door. My counters are covered in lunchboxes waiting to be unpacked, half-filled reusable water bottles, and the artwork Zara did at school today. Voices fill the air as Maren reminds her sister she will be eating vegetables with her lasagna, and confirms Nana DeeDee did in fact pack a tray of frosted brownies for dessert.

For the first time, my house feels like a home.

“I know there’s a lot to choose from, but standing there with the fridge door open isn’t going to make the decision any easier.” Maren bumps me out of the way so she can grab Zara’s lasagna.