Chapter Fifteen Gideon
Chapter Fifteen
Gideon
“Oh my God, it’s so good.”
Lena’s eyes are closed as she chews, and her little noises go straight to my cock.
I was inside her hot, perfect pussy less than twenty minutes ago, and I already want her again. I should keep my hands to myself, lock her in a bedroom with a functioning door, and keep her safe until it’s time to send her home.
But I won’t do that, because now that I’ve had her, staying away from this little rebel is out of the question.
“We’ll move your things into my bedroom tonight.”
Her hand pauses halfway to her mouth, and she stares at me with surprised lavender eyes. “We will?”
“Fuck yes.”
“So that wasn’t just things you said in the heat of the moment?”
I lean on the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “I meant every word I said. You’ll be sleeping in my bed, baby.”
“What else will change?”
I tip my head to the side. “We’re still training together every day.”
“Even the obstacle course?”
I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face, and her eyes narrow menacingly.
“I see that you enjoy torture.”
No. Been there, done that, and I do not enjoy torture.
“That’s not what it is. It’s training. You’ll get stronger, your reflexes will get faster.”
“I’ll fall on my ass and maybe break a leg.” She pops a chip in her mouth. “Fun times. You must enjoy all this.”
“I live for it.” I grin at her and reach over to brush her soft hair behind her ear. “But I know that it’s not for everyone. For every ten new recruits I get for each session, thirty to fifty percent drop out before it’s done.”
She blinks rapidly at that, taking it in. “Holy shit, Gideon. I hope that’s not on your brochure. I don’t think it’s a strong selling point.”
“I don’t need brochures. I have a two-year waiting list.”
Her smile grows, and I want to lean down and kiss her.
So I do. I cup the side of her neck and jawline and kiss her before letting her go and crossing to the fridge to grab us some waters.
“And your leg really doesn’t bother you?”
I pause at her question. Normally, I would brush it off and change the subject, but things have shifted with her, and she deserves the truth.
She lifts an eyebrow, waiting for my response.
“I have moments,” I concede, “when it acts up. Usually if I’ve pushed myself too hard.
It gets sore and needs some ice. It’s why I couldn’t go back to active duty and return to your detail, and I worked like crazy for a year to get it back.
I’ll never be a hundred percent, and in order to protect the president and their family, you have to be better than a hundred percent. ”
She frowns down at her burrito.
“It pissed me off that no one would tell me if you were okay,” she says softly. “I wasn’t allowed to see you, or talk to you, but the worst was, no one would even tell me that you survived.”
She swallows hard, and I cup her head, kiss the top of her hair, and then pull her into my chest and hug her close.
“Finally, after a horrible week, I marched into Mom’s office and said I wouldn’t leave unless she told me. I threatened to go to the press. I threatened a lot of stuff.”
“You threatened the president of the United States, Rebel?”
“No, I demanded that my mother fucking talk to me.” She pulls back enough to look up at me. “Because yeah, she’s the president, but she’s also my mom. And her motherly moments are few and far between, but I’m pretty sure seeing me hysterical gave her one of those moments.”
“What did she say?” Using my pinkie, I gently nudge her hair back from her face, enjoying the way she feels against me.
“Just that you lived. That’s all. I got no details, and it was made clear to me that I wouldn’t get any more information. I was to keep my mouth shut about the whole ordeal and go back to my life.”
I scowl down at her. “Wait. You didn’t even get any therapy?”
She snorts and shakes her head. “I mean, sure, there are probably therapists with top security clearance, but no. I was told to suck it up and get on with it.”
The anger that moves through me is confusing because I’ve been trained to follow orders without question. If you question, you can get hurt. You can die.
But this is wrong.
After everything Lena went through, the answer was to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened?
“What are your nightmares about, Rebel?”
Her eyes dip to my chest, and I take her chin, nudging her face up to look at me once more.
“You,” she whispers. “It just plays over and over again. Sometimes you die. In the truck today—”
She shakes her head, unable to finish the thought, and I pull her in once more, holding her tight.
“I didn’t die.”
“I know.” She wipes at a tear but doesn’t pull away from me. “I always liked you. Not the way I do now, because I was too young and, well . . .”
“I get it.”
“But I liked trying to get you to smile, because you’re always so serious, and out of all my guys, you made me feel the safest.”
My chest swells. I love knowing that I did my job right, because she should always feel safe with me.
“All the guys are fine to have around. Except the one, you know.”
“The traitor.”
She nods. “Richie’s been with me forever. Others come and go. But you were my favorite.”
“I wasn’t exactly nice to you.”
“You were a dick.” She pulls away, laughing, and wipes the last of her tears away, and I breathe a sigh of relief because I do not want her to cry. “Barking orders, grumpy face. You’d never answer my personal questions.”
“I’m not there to—”
“—‘be your friend,’” she says, doing a horrible impression of me, and then she smiles, and I feel my own lips twitch. “Yeah, yeah. But so much changed after you left.”
Sobering, I pick her up and carry her into the living room and cuddle up with her on the couch.
“I never took you for a cuddler.”
“If you’re here, I’m a cuddler. What changed, baby?”
“I made it clear to Chelsea that there would be no more acting out on my part. No more games. And I was in such a depression for so long that—”
“What do you mean?” My voice is hard as fuck, and the anger pushes through me again.
“It had been a lot, Gideon. Not nearly as much as what you went through, but it overwhelmed me. And you were gone. Even though you weren’t there to be my friend, you were a safe presence, and you got hurt because of me.”
I’m shaking my head, but she continues.
“You were there because of me. If I didn’t exist, you wouldn’t have been there.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“I went back to college that fall. I graduated early because I actually hated college, got my own place, dated Howey the idiot for a while. I was already going to break up with him, but then we were at a party, things got heated, and he hit me. Richie had him on the ground so fast. It was quite impressive.”
“Howey’s lucky he isn’t dead.”
And he still might end up that way.
“I guess all I’m trying to say is, I’m not that girl anymore. Actually, I don’t think I was ever that girl. Therapy probably would have helped, and maybe I should still look into it. I’ve never talked about it with anyone until I came here.”
I scowl. I was able to talk to a therapist, and although I haven’t told Ry and Willow everything because it’s classified information, I’ve been able to talk about my feelings with them.
Lena has had no one.
“You can always talk to me, baby.”
“I’m just so relieved that you’re okay. That you have this great place, and a career you love. That you didn’t lose the leg.”
I almost did. It was touch and go there for a little while.
“It occurs to me that I don’t know what you do for a living.” I frown down at her and drag my fingertip down her soft cheek. “What did you major in in college? What do you do now?”
“I was a fine art major with a minor in finance. Which was a big waste of time. I’m not allowed to work as a financial advisor.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I’m the daughter of the president. I could be accused of insider trading. So no one will ever hire me.”
One more thing she’s lost or can’t do because of who her mother is.
“I want to create art.”
“Then that’s what you should do.”
“Someday.” She nods slowly. “Someone suggested I use a pseudonym. I kind of like that idea.”
Stay here and make your art.
I can’t suggest that.
Because this has an expiration date.
And I’m nowhere near good enough for her. She deserves so much better than me.
It’s five in the morning, but it’s seven on the East Coast, and I have to make some calls, so I left a sexy and sleeping Lena in my bed, and I’m sitting in the office with a cup of coffee at my elbow.
I hit the call button on the phone and press it to my ear, staring out the window into the darkness.
“Bishop.”
“James,” I reply.
“Report, James.”
If Lena thinks I’m short and to the point, she’s never spent any time with Bishop.
“All’s quiet. Blackbird is safe. There’s been no movement here.”
I hear the man sigh on the other end of the line, and that has the hair standing up on the back of my neck.
“We found messages on Tucker’s phone to an unknown number, which has since been disconnected, indicating that it wasn’t a one-man job.”
I figured.
“There’s been rumors, but nothing concrete. We’re still digging. As of now, she stays where she is.”
Every muscle in my body relaxes in relief.
She doesn’t have to go yet.
“I’ll touch base next week unless there’s a change.”
He hangs up, and I drag my hand down my face.
Who the fuck wants to hurt my Rebel, and why? And why, with all the tools at the government’s disposal, is it taking them so fucking long to find out?
They should have known seconds after it all went down in that gallery.
Something doesn’t add up.
But there’s not much I can do from here, without official access. Nothing I can do except what I’ve been tasked with, which is keeping her safe.
Which I’ll do with my life.
Glancing at my phone, I realize that I missed a text from Willow late last night.
Willow: I miss you. Stop being mad at me.
I blow out a breath and think about how to respond. Then, an idea takes shape.