The Middle Man

by Gadziala, Jessica

  All I should have been feeling then was my relief at not being in some random guy's trunk, or maybe the throbbing in my temple, the frustration at this not being the end, but a new sort of beginning.

  Yet there was no denying the fluttering in my chest, though, at hearing him call me important. Even if I knew he didn't mean it the way I so badly wanted to take it.

  "My sister is going to kill me," I murmured, eyes glued to the rearview, paranoid making me jump at any car that turned onto the road.

  "She's not going to be mad at you for accidentally getting involved with someone with bad intentions. That's not your fault."

  It was the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth, to ease that burden, to clear the air once and for all.

  I didn't do that, though.

  "Okay, listen," he said a moment later, parking. "No one has been following us or anything, but we don't want to take any chances. I am going to get out, come to your side, grab you, and we are going to run. You yell if you see the guys or car, okay?"

  "Okay," I agreed, taking a steadying breath as he cut the engine and flew out of the car.

  With that, it was a bit of an adrenaline-filled blur until we were in the building, up the stairs, and officially behind two locked doors and bullet-proof glass.

  The moment the door was closed, Lincoln's hands were framing my face, his thumb carefully probing the soreness in my eye socket and temple.

  "Yeah," he said, looking grim. "I think you have a break. You're getting a nice shiner already. How's the pain?"

  "Blinking kinda hurts. It's not that bad, though. I have a bit of a headache."

  "I know you aren't a fan of taking shit, but we have some Ibuprofen. Don't be a hero if your head is splitting, honey."

  "It's not that bad," I assured him, feeling next to nothing but the way his hands were holding me. "Maybe some ice before bed."

  "Never a bad idea," he agreed, his thumb stroking down my cheek, making my belly flutter, my sex tighten.

  There shouldn't have been anything sexy about that moment, one that only existed because of pain and fear. That said, there was no denying that my body was humming with need for more of his touch.

  "Why don't you go get cleaned up?" he suggested, yanking his hand away, seeming to remember that he believed he was not supposed to be touching me. I imagined my face showed the confusion I felt. "Your cut," he explained. "And your hand is covered in blood."

  Oh, God.

  Right.

  His blood.

  My attacker's blood.

  "Don't pass out on me, Gem," he demanded softly as my arm raised, looking at the blood that was more maroon as it dried. "You did what you had to do," he added. "You never have to feel guilty for protecting yourself. Anyone who wanted to hurt you deserved whatever he got."

  "It went through his cheek," I told him, closing my eyes against the memory.

  "Good."

  "Lincoln..." I said, shaking my head.

  "I know you're a 'do no harm' kind of person, babe, but this was what you had to do to get away. Now go wash it away. I will put some water on for you. And call Quin."

  "Okay," I agreed, nodding, moving numbly down the hall to my usual room, going in, but pausing, waiting inside the door, listening.

  "Quin... we have a problem," was what he said first, pausing, listening. "Yeah, no. It's Gemma. Yeah, that Gemma. She's okay. Safe. But shit isn't good. Yeah, I know. No. No, she's had an idea of it for a while, but was worried she was paranoid. She's been crashing with me. But... yeah, she went back home and then some fuck was waiting for her. Chased her. Not bad... just what seems like a broken eye socket. She stabbed one of them with that keychain Gunner got her. Yeah. No. We're at the office now. Yeah, it could wait. Alright, see you then."

  With that, I moved into the bathroom, scrubbing my hand pink for fear of missing a spot of the blood before finally getting to cleaning up my face. A ring was slowly forming around my eye, a deep blue-black that, at the moment, could be confused with sleepiness, but I figured it would just keep darkening as the night went on.

  Taking a deep breath, I moved back out into the main area, finding Lincoln putting water in a mug for me.

  "Quin said that since we're safe here, we are going to meet in the morning after everyone gets some sleep. Aven has the flu, so he's playing nursemaid. Hope you don't mind waiting."

  "Not at all," I assured him, shaking my head. "It will be nice to get my head together before Quin starts picking it apart." I'd seen him do it enough times to know there was no way around it, not even if we had a personal connection. "Is he telling everyone tonight?" I asked, belly falling at the idea of my sister showing up, reaming me out.

  "No. He doesn't want to get Jules freaked out. The morning is early enough. Unless you want me to wake someone and get them over here to work as bodyguard," he added as he carried his coffee and my tea over to the couch, putting them down on the coffee table to cool.

  "No." The word rushed out of me as I moved to sit down beside him. "I mean... I have bullet-resistant walls and glass, security systems... and you."

  "Wish you never went back to your place, Gem. Maybe we could have avoided this," he said, brushing my hair off of my temple, tucking it behind my ear, letting him get a look at the cleaning job I had done.

  "But if I hadn't gone back when I did, maybe we wouldn't have known there was an actual threat until it was too late," I reasoned as his fingers followed the path down my hair to my shoulder until he dropped it suddenly.

  "I guess there is some truth in that," he admitted, though the words seemed a bit sour on his tongue. "Things have been... different without you around," he admitted, eyes refusing to hold mine even as I tried to search them for some sort of meaning.

  "Lots of takeout, huh?" I asked, not sure what he meant exactly, and knowing my pride wouldn't be able to take it if I responded sentimentally when he didn't mean it that way.

  "It hasn't felt as warm," he told me, eyes closing for a second with the confession. "Felt a little homier with you around."

  "Lincoln..." To my own ears, my voice sounded soft, a little unsure. His head lifted, gaze finding mine, holding. A hundred things passed between us in one silent moment, questions and answers, recognition of the fact that there had never been a misunderstanding, a real rejection. He hadn't wanted me to go back to my room any more than I had wanted to.

  I'm not sure where the confidence came from. If you told me the day before that I was going to make another move on Lincoln, I would have laughed, would have sworn that I wouldn't risk myself like that again, open myself up to more hurt.

  But somewhere in that moment, I found myself folding up onto the couch, turning, moving over to straddle his waist, hands pressing into his shoulders.

  My gaze moved to his as I released my held breath.

  "I don't think I can take your rejection again," I admitted in a small voice.

  There was none to be found, though.

  His eyes flashed; his hands lifted, curling around me, crushing my body to his, and his lips sealed over mine.

  There was no hesitation, just heat, just need, just a spark bursting into flame, threatening to consume us both, just a warmth so new, so comforting that we both seemed perfectly happy to bask in it forever.

  Lincoln's hands slid down my back, fingers sinking into my ass, dragging me closer, making my cleft grind up against his hardness, tearing a ragged moan from between my lips.

  Hearing it, hungry for more, he pulled me against him again.

  He didn't need to make it happen a third time.

  The need overtook me, let me take over, drove me on, leaving me riding him, writhing, letting out loud moans muffled by his lips on mine.

  The orgasm built to a fever pitch, Lincoln's lips ripping from mine, suddenly pushing me back a few inches on his lap, pressing his fingers between my thighs, pulsing against my clit through the layers of fabric, pushing me over the edge, sending me spiraling down into the waves, his name tearing fr
om somewhere deep as I curled forward, burying my face in his neck.

  "Fuck," he hissed as my body shuddered.

  I had to agree to the sentiment.

  Fuck.

  Coming back down still left me in a dreamy sort of reality, brain floating, body humming.

  I took a deep breath, breathing him in.

  And then the spell was broken.

  By a very unmistakable sound.

  The beep of the keypad from the other side of the door.

  I'm not sure if I flew up first or if Lincoln tossed me to the side first, all I knew was that one minute, I was on his lap, recovering from a pretty epic orgasm. The next, I was on my ass on the couch as he was reaching for his gun even though there had been no fumbling at the keypad like someone was trying to figure it out. There were the steady, quick beeps followed by the long beep of access granted.

  "Thought I saw Gemmy's car out on the street!" Bellamy's voice met my ears, taking a long second to sink into my frazzled system. "Think you can put the gun away," he added, making it clear Lincoln wasn't exactly thinking clearly either because it was still raised.

  "Did you talk to Quin?" he asked, putting the gun on the coffee table.

  "Not since my last reaming out. Why, does Dad need to speak to me again?"

  "Depends, did you get yourself into any trouble this week?"

  "Define 'trouble,'" he demanded, that mischievous smile that melted panties across the globe lighting up his already stupidly good-looking face.

  "So, that's a yes."

  "Probably. So what are you guys doing hanging out here, of all places?" he asked, moving over toward the couch, dropping his body in the very narrow space between us, slapping a hand down on each of our knees. "This is cozy."

  "Think you mean invasive," Lincoln supplied, leaning forward to grab his coffee.

  "Oh, for me? You shouldn't have," Bellamy said, pulling it from Lincoln's hands, taking a long sip. "No TV or music?" he asked, tssking.

  "No, we were just... talking," Lincoln supplied with a very unconvincing cough at the word 'talk.'

  "About anything interesting?" Bellamy asked, and I suddenly got the impression that he was being deliberately obtuse.

  Sure, he was a generally light-hearted, superficial, out-for-a-good-time guy. But that didn't mean he was dumb or unobservant. If anything, he was someone who really paid attention even when you least expected him to.

  So I really couldn't quite believe that he wasn't picking up on the charged air around us, the flush to my face and neck, the tension all over Lincoln's body.

  He had to have known what was going on with us.

  Yet he, someone usually likely to bring up uncomfortable topics for the heck of it, said nothing.

  "How Gemma's face got busted up," Lincoln told him, voice a bit tight.

  To that, Bellamy jolted, turning fully to face me for the first time. His gaze--usually so light, airy, carefree--was steely, cold. Frigid.

  "Who am I killing?" he asked.

  It was not a joke.

  He was completely serious.

  "We're having a meeting about this in the morning," Lincoln interjected. "I think maybe right now, Gemma could use the time to relax, not be questioned."

  "He's probably right," Bellamy agreed, leaning forward to grab the remote and my tea. He handed me the tea, tossed the remote at Lincoln, then grabbed my legs, draping them over his, giving my knees a playful squeeze. "So, what do you watch to relax? A little Carrie and Big? Ross and Rachel? Nick and Jess? Sookie and Bill?"

  "Sookie and Bill?" I repeated.

  "I know, I know. She's really got more chemistry with Eric or even Alcide. And in the books, she ends up with Sam, of all people..."

  "I have no idea what you are talking about," I admitted, but did so with a giant smile.

  "You're right. Probably too much violence for you, sweet girl. Sitcom it is!" he announced, selecting one at random, putting it on. "You know what would be perfect right now? Popcorn. Maybe Lincoln will make us some."

  And just like that--likely wanting to stop being so crushed by Bellamy--he did.

  I got to watch Nick and Jess meet and develop feelings, but found myself passing out on Bellamy's shoulder before they could fall in love.

  "The fuck was that about, Bell?" Lincoln asked, intruding on my sleeplessness, but not waking me up entirely, just leaving me in that dreamy in-between, aware enough to know what they were saying, but body still mostly sleepy.

  "Got a couple beers in Finn tonight. It got his tight lips opening a bit. He had the damndest thing to say about you hurting our sweet Gemma here. When I saw her car here, I figured I would check in to see if she was okay."

  "She was okay."

  "She was likely about to get fucked over by a guy who likes the idea of relationships better than being in them," Bellamy corrected. "And I think she got fucked enough today. You can take your hurt ego to bed. I am settling her in."

  With that, I was jostled a bit as Bellamy got to his feet, cradling me to his chest, carrying me to my room.

  "I know you're up," he told me after placing me down in the bed.

  My eyes fluttered open, finding him sitting there off the side of the bed.

  "I'm a grown woman, Bell," I told him, voice groggy. "You don't get to make my decisions for me."

  "No," he agreed, nodding.

  "You don't strike me as the overprotective sort either."

  "I'm not," he agreed with a low chuckle. "But you're something unique, Gemmy. Been around the world. Met a fuckton of people. You're something special. And I don't want to stand by and watch him dick you over because he doesn't know what he wants."

  "He told me that his house feels different without me there. He said it was less homey," I added, feeling a bit of warm spread across my chest.

  "Well, shit," he said, snorting, likely knowing what I did. That Lincoln didn't get hung up on exes. He just moved on. He didn't pine. He didn't miss them. But he'd pined for me. He'd missed me. "So I am just a cockblock, huh?"

  "Pretty much," I agreed, reaching out to pat his knee. "Don't worry. I won't hold it against you."

  "Of course you won't. No one can stay mad at someone as devilishly handsome as me. It's just a law of nature. Get some sleep, sweets. We can talk more in the morning."

  And with that, I curled up under the covers, drifting off to sleep with a couple heartwarming thoughts.

  I was surrounded by people who wanted nothing but the best for me.

  And Lincoln was finally done fighting what was growing between us.

  Even with men on the loose wanting to hurt me, the impending discussion with Quin, my family learning the truth, all the worry in the world I could have been focusing on, I slept like a baby for the first time in ages.

  SEVEN

  Lincoln

  "What do you mean she's still sleeping?" Jules asked, fully decked out in her usual work attire, including five-inch heels and perfect makeup despite it being barely after six in the morning. "Gemma never sleeps in."

  "She's been through a lot, Jules. She's probably beat from all the adrenaline," Quin reasoned. "We're not in a rush," he added. "Her sleeping in gives me more time to get some fucking answers out of Lincoln here," he added, looking a little perversely pleased at the idea. "Starting with what the hell possessed him to keep shit like this from the rest of us."

  I knew this was coming.

  A part of me had been hoping from the beginning that Gemma had just been paranoid, that nothing was actually going on. Because I knew the shit I would be in if it turned out her worries had merit.

  "It's not his fault," Gemma's voice--a little rougher from sleep--called out, making us turn to find her standing there in the entrance to the hallway.

  Her red hair was a mess around her shoulders, her silky pajamas rumpled, her eyes a bit swollen and unfocused still.

  Every part of me wanted to get up, grab her, drag her back into that room, and finish what we had started the night before.
<
br />   Before Bellamy decided to actually take an interest in something other than himself for a change.

  He hadn't even gotten to spend the time with Gemma that the rest of us had, so it was all the more surprising that he felt the need to step in. Which, well, made sense in a way. Gemma was just someone that others wanted to protect, to allow to keep being her sweet, airy self, untouched by all the dark, ugly, cynicism of the world.

  "Oh, God. Look at your eye," Jules said, face paling.

  "I'm fine," she insisted. "It doesn't really even hurt."

  I had busted an eye socket in the past, so I knew that was bullshit. It hurt to blink. But she didn't want anyone worrying about her.

  "I get that you don't want Lincoln to get in trouble, babe," Quin cut in, "but he fucking knows better than to take risks like this."

  "He wasn't taking a risk because I wasn't sure if there was even a threat at first."

  "How did he even find out there was?" Jules asked, brows furrowing. "I mean... why would you go to Lincoln? No offense," she added. "But that just seems random."

  "She didn't come to me-" I started.

  "He just happened upon me while I was hiding out here," Gemma said at the same time.

  "Come again?" Quin asked, looking confused.

  "I was paranoid, but not sure I had anything to be paranoid about. But, you know, I live alone. I was creeped out. So I was, ah, I was crashing here at night. I know, I know. I shouldn't have been doing that. I had no right to use the codes and hide out without telling you, but..."

  "Alright, that's enough," Quin said, cutting her off. "I don't give a shit that you crashed here. That's what this floor is for."

  "Yeah, but for clients and employees. I'm neither."

  "You're family," he corrected. "Moving on. What the fuck is going on?"

  So then she launched into it, with the same choppy timeline, the same couple false notes that I couldn't quite place, didn't understand why she was still using.

  I didn't want to call her out in front of everyone, demand she tell all of us the whole truth. She would never trust me again if I did that. And if I wanted to pursue something with her--and I did--then we needed a base of trust to stand on.