The Middle Man

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "Alright. I will get Nia on Blairtown Chem. And this David fuck," Quin declared when she was done. "For now, I think it is smart to hang here. I know it isn't ideal, but it is the safest place. Companies like that one have all the money they need at their disposal to chase down people like you if they want to. I don't want to take any risks. Kai and I will take Jules to your place to pick up some of your shit to make it more comfortable here for a while. And we will all take turns staying here with you."

  "I'll stay," I supplied, getting me a curious look from Quin. A look that was becoming familiar to me. Because Bellamy had given me the same damn one. One that said they didn't approve. That maybe I didn't deserve Gemma.

  The thing was, I didn't even disagree. I probably didn't deserve her. But I wasn't a big enough man to let that stop me.

  "Bellamy will probably volunteer some nights too," I added, leaving out the fact that even if he did, I would be staying as well, that I was invested, that there was no way I was going to leave her alone now.

  "Oh, man, is everyone having a party without me?" Bellamy asked, walking out into the room, already dressed in a fucking suit. I wouldn't be surprised to find out the man slept in one.

  "What do you know about Blairtown Chem?" Quin asked.

  Bellamy had proven himself useful in more ways than one. Having rubbed elbows with the rich and powerful for so long, he had an in to that world that none of the rest of us did. To those people, he was an insider. As such, carefully guarded secrets could be more easily shared.

  "Phillip is a fucking tool. A puppet, really, for some of the more conniving people around there. He's paid people like us to make sexual harassment claims disappear. Often."

  "Not surprising. He likes to grab ass whenever he can."

  "He what?" I snapped, making her head whip in my direction. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

  "It's not that big of a deal."

  I'm not sure which of us exploded first, but we all seemed to gang up--her sister included--about how it was a big deal, how it was unacceptable, how she never should have needed to put up with it.

  There was something almost defiant in her eyes as she stood there and took it, though. And defiant wasn't what you expected in that moment. Or from Gemma at all.

  I really needed to get her alone and get some more answers from her.

  She was on the defensive with Quin and Bellamy and especially her big sister around.

  Alone, though, she was more likely to let down her guards, to let you in.

  "Alright," Quin said, done lecturing. "Anything else about them? What about David?"

  "I don't personally know him. Much more private than Phillip. Doesn't run in any of the circles. Nia would have better luck than I would."

  "We better get her on it, then," Quin agreed, standing. "Come on, Jules. Let's get this shit going. We will get you some of your stuff later this afternoon. If you need anything, you know where to find us," he said, making his way to the door.

  "Quin?" Gemma called.

  "Yeah, babe?" he asked, half-turning back.

  "Thank you."

  "You're family," he repeated. "You have nothing to thank me for."

  "Can I be as cool as Quin when I grow up?" Bellamy asked, shaking his head.

  "You're cool enough as you are. Who else can claim they have had lunch with actual princesses?" Gemma asked, giving him a smile.

  Bellamy leaned in close to her, "I once went to a gentlemen's club with a president."

  "A sitting president?" she asked, eyes dancing.

  To that, he made a locking motion at his lips.

  "Tease."

  "How's your eye actually feeling?" I asked when their conversation ebbed.

  "It's not great, but it could be worse," she admitted, going about making her tea. "It probably looks worse than it feels."

  It didn't look great, that was for sure.

  Luckily, though, it wasn't very swollen. Just blackened.

  "How about I run out and grab us some breakfast?" Bellamy asked. "I imagine Lincoln and I will have greasy breakfast sandwiches. What should I get you? Grass clippings? With a side of cedar chip shavings and some coconut flakes?"

  To that, she let out a choked laugh, eyes dancing. "While I do enjoy a good wheatgrass and some coconut flakes, if they have a fruit salad or some kind of parfait... those would be great. If not, a whole wheat bagel will work too."

  "Got it. I'll be back in a bit."

  With that, he was gone.

  "That wasn't as bad as I had been anticipating," she admitted when we were alone. "I expected Jules to jump down my throat."

  "That might still be coming," I warned. "She might need some time to process it all."

  "That's true. Did Quin yell at you before I woke up?"

  "Nah. He's been pretty rational about it. Pissed about the whole situation, but not really at us."

  "Good. I don't usually sleep in, but I slept like the dead last night."

  "No surprise with how much shit you've been dealing with."

  "Yeah. Well, hopefully things will be over soon. Then things can, you know, go back to normal."

  "That's the goal."

  "I'm relieved it's over, honestly. That I don't have to go back there. It felt like a black hole every day, sucking in all the happiness."

  Christ, that was sad. Especially for someone like her, to whom happiness seemed to radiate. She'd always seemed to have a bottomless supply of it. It bothered me more than I could have realized to know she didn't always feel it for herself.

  "Gem..."

  "It's okay. I'm okay," she assured me, giving me a smile. And behind that smile was a spark, one I realized I hadn't seen since that night in my room when I had turned her down even though every damn cell in my body had been begging me to lay her down on the bed. "Luckily, I am not someone who stews and holds onto negativity. Once all this is handled, I know I will bounce right back. Maybe find a job that allows me to do something I am passionate about."

  "And not get groped by your boss."

  "Yes, well, that goes unsaid. No one wants to be groped. I mean... at least not by their boss. Don't give me that look," she demanded, making me realize my lips had quirked up.

  "Why not?"

  "Because."

  "Because why?"

  "Because I haven't showered yet, and Bellamy is going to be back any minute," she told me, making me take a deep, steadying breath, realizing that it had been held since we got interrupted, that I had maybe taken Bellamy's words to heart, and started to doubt if Gemma would want me once she was safe, if the situation was making her feel attached to me, that it wasn't a real, organic thing. I'd never been so happy to be wrong.

  I got where Bell was coming from. I know that I didn't exactly have a great track record with women. I treated them well when I had them, but I moved on so easily that, yeah, I could totally see his concern about my growing feelings for Gemma being just as superficial.

  They weren't, though.

  This was different.

  She was different.

  Maybe because I knew her, because I had known her for a long time, because I didn't jump into anything before I even knew who she was.

  We'd even played house for a week for fuck's sake. It wasn't like I was suddenly going to find out she chewed with her mouth open or snapped her gum or left crap everywhere or was the type to throw fits or be so needy it was impossible to function.

  It was the first time I thought that maybe, possibly, this could be something. Something lasting.

  While I had been hopeful with each woman I had brought into my life, I had never been confident in them, in a possible future.

  With Gemma, with realizing my house felt oddly empty without her, with the way I couldn't stop thinking about her, yeah, I felt sure enough to say I could see something with her, something lasting.

  "Still got a couple minutes," I suggested, watching as her eyes burned. "Get over here."

  As if the words summoned her, her feet imm
ediately started moving toward me as her breathing went quick and shallow, as a blush bloomed across her chest, up her neck. I couldn't wait to find out if she flushed all over when you touched her, if she always came as hard as she had the night before.

  "I thought you might have been having second thoughts again," she admitted as she stopped in front of me.

  "No more second thoughts, baby," I told her, taking far too much pride in the way her eyes were already heavy-lidded, unfocused, the way her lips were parting.

  My hand raised, slid down her jaw, slipping into the hair at the back of her neck.

  It was right fucking then that the beep of the keypad broke the spell.

  And there was Bellamy, charging in, talking a mile a minute, stealing away Gemma's attention.

  If he ever decided to stop working in his current professional, he would make a great fucking professional cock-block.

  The day was a bit of a blur from there.

  We ate.

  Kai stopped in to do a little big brother talking to her.

  Eventually, Jules and Quin came back with Gemma's stuff, Quin pulling me aside to tell me what he found at the apartment. Which, unfortunately, wasn't much since the super hadn't realized the security system hadn't been working for several days. There was broken glass, there was blood in the parking lot, and there was a police report. Because, apparently, Gemma had run screaming down the halls and slamming on doors as she fled the man chasing her.

  Though, luckily enough for our purposes, no one had actually known it was Gemma who had been screaming. The report was vague, just stating that a woman was heard screaming.

  The last thing we needed was her being questioned, the police coming in to try to talk to Phillip and David. Because, let's be honest, everyone knew that there was no way a company like Blairtown Chem was going to be brought down on the suspicion that they had hired a man to kidnap or kill one of their employees.

  It was better that she remain anonymous, that we handle the situation from here. That was what we did. We fixed the shit that the police sometimes couldn't.

  "Has Nia found anything out yet?"

  "Whoever it is that she stabbed, he hasn't gone to any of the local hospitals about it. Unfortunately. Though it's not exactly surprising if they are professionals."

  Like us.

  We didn't end up in the hospital over much, not wanting to have to deal with the questions, only going if something needed to be sewn back on or put together with metal rods. A couple puncture wounds to the cheek could be stitched up reasonably easily at home.

  "So we're nowhere."

  "It's only been a couple hours," he reminded me. "And if you had brought us in on it earlier, maybe we would be further along."

  "I get it. I won't keep shit from you again."

  "Know you feel like shit over her eye. Think that is punishment enough. I won't keep harping. But we need to fix this."

  I agreed whole-heartedly.

  Sure, we would probably have some time alone even if we were staying above the office. But it wasn't the same.

  I wanted to give this a real shot.

  To do that, we needed to be back to our old lives, not secluded from everything.

  "Where are you going?" Quin asked as Bellamy squeezed past us.

  "Oh, it's a beautiful day. Flowers need smelling. People need killing. The usual..."

  "Nope," Quin said to my furrowed brows, "not work related. Must be a passion project."

  Only Quin would refer to murder as a 'passion project.' But, then again, Bellamy only took out people who had it coming. So none of us could really even fault him for it. Least of all Quin who paid to utilize that particular skill of his.

  "Alright. I am heading back in. Keep me posted if you guys find out anything."

  "Will do. Keep an eye on her."

  Oh, I planned to do more than that.

  Much more.

  But that was our little secret for the time being.

  I had been lectured enough for one day.

  I walked in expecting to find Gemma on the couch where I'd left her, binging the show Bell had put on the night before, drinking her tea.

  But I found the TV paused instead, her tea cooling on the coffee table, and the room vacant.

  That wasn't what had me pausing, though.

  No.

  That was the unmistakable sound of whispering down the hall.

  I wasn't an eavesdropper. At least not in my personal life. People had a right to their private thoughts and words.

  Something about this, though, had me on edge, had my heart starting to thud, my spine stiffening.

  Carefully inching down the hallway as to not squeak any floorboards, I flattened myself against the wall next to Gemma's door, hearing her voice clearly as she paced the room.

  "You should be getting the package today. Yes, the drive and the papers. No. I... I think I got everything. You don't need to yell at me. I did the best I could. I know. Yes, of course I understand how important this was to you. I could have died last night over this. I could have gone to jail half a dozen times before this. I wouldn't do that if I didn't believe in this."

  What the fuck was going on?

  "I can't really meet right now. Because now everyone in my life is involved, and I am locked behind steel doors and bullet-resistant glass with full-time bodyguards."

  Rationally, I knew I shouldn't have been thinking such things, but there was no denying that my pride took a bit of a hit at the term 'full-time bodyguard,' worrying that was maybe all she thought of me as, that I was just some pawn in some game I hadn't even known I had been involved in.

  "Well, yeah, I hope it is enough too. No, there's no way I can go back there now. Because I don't want to die over this. Yes, I know. I know. Yeah. If you need more from me, then, yeah. Okay. I can do it if I have to. Yeah, I hope I don't either. Text me when you get it. No, don't call. Okay. Alright. Bye."

  I had no fucking idea what was going on, but I understood a few things right in that moment.

  One, this explained the false notes I had always heard in her stories, but couldn't seem to understand why they might be there.

  Two, she was in way over her fucking head.

  And three, I didn't care how important whatever this shit was, there was no way in hell I was ever going to let her get involved in it again.

  "Alright. It's alright," she consoled herself, taking a few deep breaths, exhaling them loudly, then yanking the door fully open.

  And letting out a shriek at seeing me there.

  "I think we need to have a little talk."

  EIGHT

  Gemma

  I had felt myself blanch when the phone had rung, knowing who it was, feeling dread well up inside me. Then the guilt at feeling dread. It wasn't his fault that I wanted my mind on lighter things, happier things, things that involved Lincoln who was no longer going to fight what was blooming between us.

  I had answered despite my trepidation, knowing it would be rare for me to get a chance wholly alone to talk, and that it was all way too much to try to text.

  I can't say I expected a little sympathy, but I found myself a little deflated when I got none.

  I had maybe even reiterated how dangerous all this was for me, only to be reminded how very inconsequential I was in the grand scheme of things.

  He always had that ability.

  To make me feel incredibly small.

  I wanted to resent him for it, but needed to remind myself that he was right, that there were greater things than me, that sometimes sacrifice was necessary to bring about a better world.

  In the end, hanging up, I felt deflated, wrung out, a bit empty and sad and sorry for myself as I made my way back out to the hall, ready to put on a mask I really didn't want to have to wear anymore. Least of all in front of Lincoln.

  As fate would have it, though, that wouldn't happen anyway.

  Because he was standing right there.

  The look in his eye said everything I nee
ded to know.

  He'd been listening.

  There was no way I could talk myself out of this.

  It was finally, finally time to tell someone the whole truth.

  I expected to feel panic at the idea, but instead, all I felt was a surge of relief so strong I was almost surprised it didn't bring me to my knees right there.

  "Gem," Lincoln said, the firmness gone from his voice, replaced with something like concern as he arm shot out, hand grabbing my arm, holding tight. Like maybe he thought I was about to pass out. "Hey, I'm not mad at you," he added. "I just want to know what is going on."

  I pulled against his grip, sliding my hand until it was holding his, pulling him with me back into my room, closing the door, leaning back against it.

  "I planned to tell you the truth eventually," I told him, searching his face for doubt, but all I found there was confusion, concern, and maybe a tiny sprinkling of hurt at realizing I had been lying to him from the beginning. "Once it was all settled, I was going to tell you. And then everyone else."

  "Right now, I need you to tell me."

  "Are you going to tell everyone else?"

  "Maybe," he admitted, and I had to appreciate him not lying to me even if I hadn't shown him the same respect.

  "Okay," I said, nodding. "Well, it started my last semester in college..."

  I had always been big on going to events on or around campus. Things I believed in. Things I was passionate about. Green rallies, strikes over a living wage, animal rights meetings. I wasn't sure how much good we actually ever did, but I figured that it was never a waste of time to dedicate yourself to improving awareness among the population with regard to important, pressing topics. And it was always nice to be around like-minded people, those who gave a damn about the world around us, about each other. It seemed rarer than ever these days, and I liked to cling to it where I found it.

  So it wasn't at all odd for me to attend a small meeting at a local coffee shop where we were all discussing environmental contaminants, about the untold repercussions of them on our vulnerable bodies.