Chapter Nineteen: Turn Me On

Chapter Nineteen

Lincoln

TURN ME ON

Performed by The Fray

When she slid off the counter , pushing our bodies back together, I was overwhelmed all over again with the scent and feel of her, aching for more of the sweetness I'd been able to savor. The sounds of her coming apart with just my mouth and a few slams of our hips hadn't been nearly enough. I needed to know what she'd look like, sound like, feel like as she quivered around me when I was buried deep inside her, riding out the waves.

I was harder than I'd ever been in my life.

But damn if I'd take her on a cold tile floor after we'd just spilled our guts about some of the worst nights of our lives. No. I wanted the moment we came together to be just like this kitchen. Full of light and warm memories. Not an escape from the dark.

Maybe it was an impossible thing to want. Maybe there would never be that kind of a moment for me in my life or Willow in hers, but I believed what I'd told her. Fate had given us to each other. Sienna had insisted Willow was my person, and I believed her, even if it was only me believing my own dark wishes.

So, I stepped back even farther away from her, allowing the cold air to shift between us.

We needed to think. We needed to take some sort of action so she didn't have to hide in fear.

"We need a plan. If you call the Marshals and tell them about the note, and it ends up being just Poco, they may still insist on moving you. If we tell the local police about it, we still risk the Marshals finding out. But I can ask Hardy to come and get the note and have him run some tests on it. I'd already asked him to do some digging on Poco, so he won't be surprised if I ask him to find out where he was when the note was left."

She frowned at me, the dazed passion in her eyes slowly dissolving. "Who's Hardy?"

Right. I had to remember she didn't know everything about my life. Just like I knew so very little about hers—just the worst parts.

"Hardy is Secret Service. Former head of my detail, but he's also a friend. He'll keep this quiet."

She hesitated. "I still need to call Deputy Marshal James, even if it's just to make sure Aaron is still in Chicago and hasn't found out where we are. I need to make sure my mom is protected."

"Can you just say you've been worried since you found out about Roci?" Her brows pushed together, doubts running through her mind. I pushed at them, trying to shove them away, trying to hold on to more time with her until I could find a way to cross the chasm between us. "If we have even one inkling this is something more than Poco, we can explain everything to them. I want—" My breath caught. "I need you to be safe. Nothing will stop me from making sure you are."

Could I sacrifice being with her if I knew it would ensure her safety? Abso-fucking-lutely. But I wouldn't sacrifice her, us, if I didn't need to. My conscience wiggled with thoughts of paparazzi. With thoughts of the many photos leaked in my lifetime where I hadn't even known someone had taken them. We'd deal with that too. Somehow. But first, we had this to handle—an ugly note and a threat from a local thug.

"What would you tell Hardy?" she asked. "About me?"

"He might already know everything there is to know about you. He ran my neighbors." I waved to the house on the opposite side of mine. "I guess the people next door are the Bristols."

"He won't know I'm in witness protection. The Marshals don't share that information with any other law enforcement group."

I wasn't exactly sure it was true when it came to the president's family. I wasn't sure any secrets were kept, but maybe some were. She was right when she'd said the Marshals hadn't lost a single person under active protection, so maybe they did keep secrets from even the president.

She pulled on the chain at her neck and the class ring there. After what I'd heard, I was even more convinced it was her dad's. A way to keep him close. To remember him. What had she said about the people in the cemetery? About wanting someone to think of them so they weren't forgotten? She couldn't go visit her dad, so she visited others like she hoped someone was doing for him. It sliced through me, making me want to find a way for her to visit him, making me want to end both the Viceroys and Poco.

"If there's a way to keep Mom safe and to keep us from having to give up our life here, I want that," she said with a quiet determination. "If it's Poco who did this, and we can just end it before it gets further out of hand, then that's what I'd like to see happen."

Her strength awed me. The way she'd crumbled and then yanked herself back to stable ground was stunning. After Sienna and after Lyrica, I'd wallowed in self-pity, and remorse, and what-ifs. Maybe she had too, but what I saw before me now was a woman who didn't let the knocks that came at her keep her down.

"Let me call Hardy while you call the Marshals and your mom."

I reached for my phone and stepped toward the kitchen table. While I talked with my former Secret Service agent, she stepped out of the kitchen with her phone to her ear.

Hardy wasn't thrilled things had escalated or that it was happening across the street with me tagging along for the ride, but he said he'd send a rookie to get the note this afternoon. He asked for the videos from Willow's alarm system, and I told him I'd have Willow send them as soon as we hung up.

I was just shoving my phone in my pocket and heading to find her when she came back in, still talking. "I just want to make sure you are taking extra precautions. I just got off the phone with Deputy Marshal James and confirmed Aaron is still in Chicago." She paused, listening to her mom. "I just… I don't know, Mom. I didn't tell her about the note because I'm pretty sure this is Poco, and I didn't want her to overreact. He came into the café today and said some nasty things." Another pause. "Hector didn't know, or he would have kicked him out. Don't say anything to him. I don't want him getting into it with Tall Paul." The quiet made me wish I could hear her mother's side of the conversation. "No, I'm okay. I'm with Lincoln." After a beat, her eyes went wide, and she put a hand to her forehead as she lied. "No. He didn't hear me talk about the Marshals. He doesn't know anything. He was in the other room. What? I don't think—" She grimaced. "Hold on. Let me go get him." She waited for a second, as if she'd really had to come find me, and then offered me her phone with a hand that shook. "She wants to talk to you."

I reached for it without hesitation. "Hello?"

"Lincoln?"

"Yes."

"My name is Erica, and we haven't met, so pardon my directness, but who the hell are you, and why are you doing this?"

Even though I knew she was right to demand answers to those questions, it still irritated me. My voice was sharp as I replied, "You're right, we haven't met, and you don't know me. So, let me put it simply. I'd never stand by while someone was accosted or hurt, but it's much more than that now. As I've gotten to know your daughter over the last few days, I've been amazed by her strength and courage. I can easily say I'd do just about anything to make sure she remains unharmed."

Willow inhaled sharply, but silence hummed over the line between her mom and me for a moment before Erica finally spoke again. "Willow has been through a lot in her short life. A lot. Things we can't and won't discuss. If you're not okay with any of that, you need to step back right now."

"I won't push her to do or say anything she's uncomfortable with," I growled out.

A little huff of something close to laughter drifted over the line. "I see. You like my daughter quite a bit."

"Like is putting it mildly." Every word was spoken with a vehement truth.

Willow's eyes grew wider, and the remnants of the desire we'd flamed sparked between us.

"Hmm. I'm quite happy with this development. What I'm not happy with is some local yokel thinking he can scare my daughter. I'm out of town for the weekend—not far, just in Richmond—and I can come home if I need to, but I think me changing my plans and leaving my students would upset her almost as much as Poco has."

She was right. Willow would hate it. "There's no need for you to come home. I don't plan on letting her out of my sight while you're gone."

And maybe that would have raised some parents' hackles, but I swore I heard a smile in Erica's voice as she said, "Good. When I get home, I expect to have dinner together."

If she thought to scare me off, it didn't work. The idea of embedding myself further into both their lives was exactly what I wanted. "I'd like that."

"Well. Okay, then," she said before clearing her throat. "Lincoln?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Her voice went soft, tucked full of emotions. "Not just for taking care of her when Poco confronted her at the cemetery or even when he's obviously upset her today. Thank you for seeing her for the smart, courageous, brave woman she is and giving her some beautiful memories. You are going to do that, right?"

For the first time since I'd picked up the phone, a spike of panic welled. It wasn't because of her words or because of what was blooming between Willow and me. It was much more because my world could easily shatter theirs.

Still, I kept my voice steady and sure when I responded, "I'm hoping to give her more than just a few."

Erica laughed again. It was light and lyrical, just like her daughter's. I handed the phone back to Willow, and they said goodbye with warm I love yous that reminded me of my family. Living through trauma either bonded people together with a cement-like glue, or it tore them apart. My family had only grown closer. Not just because of the traumatic events of my life, but because of Dad's career choice and the hate that got tossed our way.

Willow bit her lip and wouldn't meet my gaze. "I'm sorry…she just—"

"Loves you. Wants you safe and happy."

She ran a hand up and down her arm before tugging on the ring at her neck. She cleared her throat. "I don't know what to do now."

I had plenty of ideas of what I wanted to do with her, starting with taking off every article of clothing and exploring every sweet-smelling inch of her. But I wouldn't. Not yet. I'd spoken the truth when I said I wouldn't take our first kiss and turn it into something she wished she'd stopped.

I could take her to the gallery with me, but if I did, I'd get lost in my paintings like I always did, and I couldn't guarantee I'd know if something or someone showed up at my door when I was lost in my art. But thoughts of the gallery reminded me of the way I'd all but shoved Trinity out of the shop with barely a word while I'd chased after Willow.

"Crap. Hold on. I need to text Trinity—the artist at the gallery. I left her in a bit of a hurry."

Willow grimaced again, as if she was upset that she'd messed with my day.

I jotted off a text to Trinity.

ME: I'm sorry I had to rush out like I did. Your work is truly incredible, and it will be an honor to show it, if you're still interested.

TRINITY: You've got to be kidding, right? I'd be a moron not to be interested. Besides, I knew you'd get back to me. You have three of my pieces sitting in your gallery.

I couldn't help the smile that curled my lips. I had basically stolen her work, but at least she wasn't upset about it.

ME: I don't have a date for the opening yet. Send me pictures of everything you have completed and are willing to part with as well as what you're working on. We can decide where to go from there.

TRINITY: Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll send you everything once I get home from class.

When I put my phone back in my pocket and raised my eyes, Willow's were hooded, taking in my grin. She was jealous, just like she'd been when she'd seen Trinity and me at the gallery. It shouldn't have, but it made me happy to know she was. That somehow, what we already felt for each other was enough for her to not want to share me.

Lord knew I didn't want to share her.

"What were your plans for the day?" I asked.

Her gaze flicked to my lips and away, and once again, I had to fight off the urge to pick her up, take her upstairs, and finish what we'd started.

"I was going to work on ideas for a new dessert piece, and you?"

"I need groceries. I've been putting it off for too long. I'd planned on shopping after I met with Trinity." The silence that settled wasn't awkward so much as expectant. "Come with me?"

She shifted, looking away, and I had a moment to wonder if it was smart, leaving the house in the daylight with her. But before I could take it back, she responded, "Okay."

I patted my pockets. I needed my wallet and keys. Where had I put them? "I think my keys are in the study."

Her lips twitched. "Think?"

I grunted. "I'm good at losing keys, phones, and wallets."

"Your detail must not have liked that," she said as I led the way out of the kitchen.

"When you have a security detail, you rarely need anything with you. I blame them for adding to my problem rather than helping it."

The keys were sitting on the desk next to my laptop. I opened the drawers and sighed with relief when I found my wallet sitting there, which only meant I'd driven to the gallery this morning without it. Shopping would have been a short trip if I hadn't remembered to come back for it.

As we stepped out of the house, I felt the tension that had left Willow for a few moments return as her body stiffened. She scanned the street, and I did the same. No gray sedan. No Poco. No random people raising their phones to take a shot. And yet, just like when I'd left the gallery the other night, I felt eyes on me. On us.

After I locked up, I tugged her closer and kissed the top of her head.

"It's going to be okay." It was a statement I hoped I could make true somehow.

"Do you need anything?" I asked with a chin nod in the direction of her house.

A shudder went through her as she stared at the gate. She shook her head. "I'm not ready to go back in yet."

I put a hand on the small of her back, directing her to my Range Rover I'd left parked at the curb down the street. I opened the passenger door, and as she slid in, I caught the scent of her once more. It made me hungry, deep-in-the-soul hungry, and made me wonder why the hell we were leaving instead of retreating to my bedroom.

I jogged around the car and got in before I hauled her back into my lair.

I looked over at her and asked, "Where's the grocery store?"

Her eyes widened, and then she giggled. "You live here and don't even know where the grocery store is? What have you been eating?"

My lips twitched. "I've been subsisting on takeout and tea."

It was only partially true. I hadn't been eating much at all because I'd been lost in unpacking, insomnia, and painting. But I was suddenly ravenous. For more than just Willow. For actual food rather than microwaved junk. For a drink and a meal I'd be able to share with her.

"But how can you have moved here not knowing where the store is?"

"I know about the convenience store on Main Street, but I don't want to do my bulk shopping there. I'll use it for the day-to-day stuff. Where's the nearest chain store?"

She waved at my console. "I think your fancy GPS can tell you." But she still gave me directions, and I headed out. "Do you really shop at regular stores?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

She shook her head, the blond waves shimmering in the sunlight that glinted in her window. Even in the golden rays, it still looked like moonlight. "It just seems so…normal."

I chuckled. "Hate to break it to you, but being the son of the president doesn't get you out of shopping for your own groceries. Now, if I lived with my parents at the White House, it would be different. But my siblings and I are only there for a few days at a time, usually for the holidays or for special events."

"Where do your sisters live?" she asked.

"Juliette is in her final year of residency at Boston General. Katerina is working for a studio in Hollywood. I take it you don't have siblings?"

Willow shook her head. "No. Mom had a hard time carrying me. I was born premature and spent a couple of months in the neonatal ward. Which was why Mom ended up working there. She wanted to pay it forward."

"Did you ever wish you had a brother or sister?"

"Sometimes, when I was little. But after everything went down, I was glad we didn't have to drag another person through all of it with us."

The shadows returned to her eyes, and I didn't want them there, so I kept talking, sharing things about myself I normally kept private. "Sienna was an only child too. When we first became friends in elementary school, her parents sort of adopted me as their second child."

"You were together since elementary school?" she asked, eyes curious but hesitant.

"Well, we were obviously just friends for a long time, until puberty hit, and then—bang—all of a sudden, there were all these feelings and emotions we hadn't expected." I'd felt the bang with Willow too. Different…but stronger, more demanding.

"Do you still see her parents?" she asked gently.

I nodded. "They're usually with us for the holidays, and they spoil me and my sisters like we're their favorite nieces and nephew. They're also the reason I have the gallery in D.C."

"They are?"

"They had a trust set aside for Sienna for college and weddings and stuff, and they handed it over to me so I could open the gallery she'd always dreamed about. I was actually with them, talking about the plans, when Lyrica was shot."

Willow inhaled sharply. "Wh-who's Lyrica? Did you lose another friend?" The pain and sorrow in her voice made me want to kick myself.

I pushed the hair back from my forehead with one hand. I kept forgetting Willow didn't know every single fact of my life like most people I met.

"Lyrica is the manager of my gallery in D.C. These days, we're just really good friends, but at the time she was shot, we were dating." I glanced over to see how this news landed, and Willow's eyes widened.

"What happened?"

"It was the anniversary of my accident with Sienna, and every year on that day, I spent time with her parents. Lyrica knew and was happy for me to go, but I still felt bad about leaving her, because her sorority was throwing this huge, end-of-the-year bash that she'd been responsible for organizing. She couldn't just leave to go with me any more than I could not go see Henrik and Shannon. We didn't argue about it, but she did give me crap for feeling guilty. She told me if I felt so damn bad that I wasn't sticking around to help, then I could go pick up the ice for her on my way out of town." My voice faded away before I cleared my throat and kept going, trying to keep it nonchalant. Just the facts. "But I forgot to do it. I was so focused on getting to Delaware, so in my head reliving that awful day, that I didn't even realize I'd forgotten until I got the call. Lyrica had gone into a convenience store to buy ice and got caught in the crossfire of a robbery gone bad."

Silence settled down into the car.

"Oh, Lincoln… I'm so sorry."

Damn. Why had I told her all that when I was trying so hard to push aside the dark of the truths we'd already shared?

"Mumbles were already hitting the streets about Dad running for president by that time, so anything they could get on our family was food for the machine. The press talked to her sorority sisters," I said with an inward sigh. "The way the media twisted their words made it seem like I'd abandoned Lyrica right outside the store. Like I'd sent her in there on her own and hadn't shown up when the bullets started flying. If you look me up on the internet, it's still one of the top search results. The gallery's success is always buried under the tragedies tied to me—Sienna, Lyrica, Leya's kidnapping, and even Felicity's bullshit."

Quiet settled down, and then, to my surprise, Willow started laughing. I looked over at her, confused. "What? What did I say?"

She put her hand over her mouth, horror in her eyes, but she didn't stop laughing. Eventually, she stuttered out her thoughts while still trying to control the chuckles. "I'm sorry. That's awful. I'm just… You've had so much happen to you. Here I am, like, ‘Woe is me, my dad was shot,' and you're like, ‘Every woman I thought I loved has experienced death and tragedy, the press has repeatedly used me for fodder, and I've been made into a villain by America's sweetheart.' You've just had so much happen…" The laughter drifted away, and she reached over to squeeze my hand resting on the console. "It isn't funny. Not at all. But it made me feel ridiculous. It put things in perspective. I'm just incredibly sorry you had to go through all of it."

We pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, and I cut the engine before turning in my seat to look at her. "Not that it's a competition, Sweetness, but I've never once had shots fired at me and a street gang threatening to murder me and my family. Let's not minimize what you've gone through by narrowing it down to a ‘Woe is me.'"

That sucked the laughter away. I reached over, skimming her jawline with my knuckles. Her breath caught while mine disappeared completely for several seconds. She was so beautiful. Stunningly gorgeous. Unforgettable.

"None of it was your fault," she said with deadly seriousness. I knew it. My therapist, my family, Sienna, Lyrica, and even Leya had all said the same thing. But for the first time, the words carved a place deep in my soul and stayed there. Every single person who'd ever said it to me had been right, but it was Willow saying it that finally found a lasting home. None of it had been my fault or really about me. I couldn't change the past, but I damn well could influence the present, and I would. I'd keep Willow safe and build a life that meant something.