The Middle Man Read online

  And that terrified me.

  Even in sleep that day still fucks with me. Listening to him scream at me. The disgust in his eyes.

  The day he treated me as a stranger. A stranger he hated.

  “You are not my son,” he yelled pushing me out of my own home. The only home I had ever known.

  “And you don’t come back here until you work that evil out.”

  “Evil?” I laughed in his hypocritical face.

  “I can smell it on you,” he growled at me. “It stinks boy.”

  “That’s you, old man,” I laughed again. “And that’s the difference between us. You reek of guilt and I cannot comprehend the purpose of it.”

  “Until you’ve done something you can actually be proud of, stay gone.”

  I was barely sixteen years old.

  I’ve been called selfish and cold.

  Labeled dangerous.

  Told I was evil.

  However, I was also impatient, short-tempered and territorial, so let’s not leave those out.

  And as far as the world was concerned, I didn’t exist.

  In my line of work, that’s the way it had to be. To do what I did, be who I was, I was nonexistent.

  Until I started getting her text messages, I had even convinced myself that I didn’t mind.

  Being the first of my kind, I helped create the rule book. At that time, I had nothing to lose, no one to miss me, so I gladly took orders when issued and one of those was this cell phone.

  While I worked independently, I was never truly alone. Someone was always watching, listening, recording.

  So, messaging her back was the cruelest thing I could have done to her.

  But, when it came to her, I lost all rational thought.

  I cared nothing for hearts and flowers or any other shit women went on about.

  Feelings, in my opinion, should be kept to yourself, or seared from your soul.

  But fuck, I had to have this woman, if only once.

  She had become a necessity within seconds of seeing her face. Initially, I thought she had the wrong number. But as her messages increased, I realized she was grieving the original owner of this number. However, it was mine now so I felt proprietary over her. Hell, I wanted to own her.

  And she was no ordinary woman either.

  No, she was wild as hell. Beautiful and defiant, raw and impulsive. Her short stories were so insane they were hard to believe. But, she always sent proof of her antics and my phone never left my hand unless I was working. Shit, I slept with the damn thing in my hand.

  She had become my oasis, my lifeline.

  And I knew responding to her would break the spell, so for a full year, I didn’t.

  Until she said she was going to start dating again.

  I lived and fucking breathed to see what would be in her next text and I’ll be damned if I lose this woman to another man.

  She was mine.

  I was hers.

  And I didn’t even know her name.

  Of course, I could have found out. That would be an easy thing to do. The problem was, if I knew then so would he. Plus, the unknown…God, how I craved it. This woman didn’t just exist, she lived. She was adventurous and brave. Her impulsiveness called to me. Hell, I jacked off regularly to just the blush of her God damn cheeks.

  Yet, I felt her loneliness as it echoed my own. I dreamt of her, woke up to her and had to have a taste of her.

  Just once, I needed to gorge on her, fill myself up and die a content man.

  Nothing I did was by accident. Calculation and I go way back. So, this behavior was out of the norm for me but I didn’t give a fuck.

  In less than twenty-four hours, I would find out if she did for me in person what she’d done in text messages. And depending on how that went, I’d then ask if she was fucking insane for meeting with a complete and total fucking stranger.

  When I made the decision to respond I knew it would bring consequences.

  Because my world held no place for her, I left it behind knowing that eventually that world would come for me.

  Yes, I was a dangerous man. I was a hunter, a leader, a ghost. I held no remorse over the things I have done. I have no feelings one way or the other as to what I’ve become either.

  But, for the first time in my life, I desired. I yearned. I craved.

  No force could stop me now. Not even, him.

  Not until I was ready.

  The darkness that drove me was steering straight for her and my heart willingly went along for the ride.

  “How much did this suite cost?” Ryan asked tossing his duffle on the couch.

  Shrugging because it wasn’t my money, I offered, “Who cares?”

  “Finn,” he groaned like always. “I want to pay my half.”

  He always wanted to pay his half. Only this room went for fifteen hundred a night. He was my wingman and they didn't chip in, it was a rule.

  “And I want a bubble bath and horror flick.”

  He was my best friend, the one who told me when my ass looked too big and held my hair back when I threw up. If spoiling him was an Olympic sport, I’d be a gold medalist.

  How many twenty-somethings got to travel the world, stay in swank hotels and get paid for a job they’d gladly do for free? Not many. So, Ryan sharing it with me was all I needed. All I would ever need.

  With frustration in his voice, he abandoned one argument for another. Tossing my phone at me, he grunted in disgust, “It's fucking Talon, again.”

  Ryan hated Talon, and these days I wasn’t far from it myself. The man spoke out of both sides of his mouth and that’s only when it wasn’t busy lying to my face. He was a problem I’d be handling sooner rather than later.

  “He can wait,” I said powering down.

  “He’s supposed to help your image,” he reminded me. “So, when’s he gonna actually do that?”

  “Talon’s trying,” I defended lamely. “It’s not like I’m helping matters.”

  “You went volcano boarding, Finn, not on a shooting spree at an elementary school. Not once has bothered to threaten the press or force a retraction. You’re the only one being raked over the coals for being an extreme sports junkie. None of that seems fucking weird to you?”

  Knowing he was right, or rather, feeling it in my gut he was right and wondering how I should handle it when the time came, I deflected with, “Well, there’s no such thing as bad press, right? Because jobs have been pouring in. Hence the suite we’re going to trash.”

  Because firing your employee, who was under contract and that you were boning, was easier said than done.

  “Finn…”

  “Ryan…”

  Sighing meant he was giving in, so kissing him on the cheek I whisper, “Pick a damn movie.”

  Falling asleep on the comfy sectional next to my best friend was my kind of night.

  I travel so much that I’ve never owned or even leased my own space.

  So, the idea of committing to one spot made me woozy, actually. You could say I was not a fan of being idle. For as long as I can remember, I didn't do 'still' well. My body and my mind required constant movement.

  Which is why I indulged in two expensive habits. Swank hotels and bad ass cars.

  If I’m going to spend time in either one, I want to love it.

  I want to overdose on it.

  Which means when I’m home and not crashing with my mom, I stay in places like the Atheneum.

  I had serious love for this hotel and its flair for floor-to-ceiling marble and oversized bathtubs. Located in the heart of Greektown, I can easily lose myself to food, drinks, slots, and the buzz of my hometown.

  And since I couldn’t sleep for shit last night, I decided to come down to the lounge early and have a drink or three to loosen up. Since I was meeting a stranger, I didn’t bother to dress for it at all. Ripped jeans, comfy tank, messy bun and flip flops was my current state of trying to appear at ease. I wasn't the type of woman to pretend to be anything o
ther than what I was for anyone.

  And it made me happy that my bartender, Carson, appreciated it.

  Actually, he’s appreciated it so much, I’ve yet to pay for my alcohol.

  Stupidly, I catch myself checking my phone and around seven-thirty, forced myself to shut it off.

  If he shows, he shows.

  If he doesn’t, I might nail Carson just for a complimentary bottle to go.

  No sooner did I have that thought, I felt the room expand and contract like when Neo realized he was ‘The One’.

  Slowly turning in my stool, I see a tall man standing perfectly still wearing a fedora with his eyes trained on me.

  His gaze was searing. In fact, if the air conditioning was on, I didn't feel it.

  “Oh, fuck me sideways,” I mumble taking him in. This was him, it had to be. God, it had better be.

  His nostrils flaring was the only indicator that I was what he sought. Actually, I felt like the hunter just locked on his prey and I felt the need to expose my neck in offering. Not knowing what else to do, I gave a ‘why the fuck not’ wave with my pinky. And I swear to God, I blinked and he was in front of me.

  “Your name,” he says so close I could smell his breath. “What is it?”

  “Finn Lee.”

  “Finley,” he exhales and I can almost taste it.

  “No,” I correct. “Finn is my first name, Lee is my last.”

  “Finn.”

  “Uh huh,” he is so damn sexy, it was hard to speak. “Your name, what is it?”

  “Phoenix,” he says staring straight into my eyes. “Just Phoenix.”

  “It’s nice to meet you –””

  “Are you drunk?” he asks trying to smell my breath.

  “No…”

  “Hey Finn, if you still want to grab that drink, I’m off in –” Carson starts then freezes in place exactly like I had done.

  “Turn around and walk away,” Phoenix threatens never taking his eyes from mine.

  As for me, I just sat there letting my thoughts wander to dark places. I wanted to ask where he bought his derby hat, how long it took him to grow his hair out, how often did he shave, did he use product and if so, what kind? Did he lean toward boxers or briefs? Would he pin me down or take me from behind? And please God, don’t let him be Vegan. I tried that once and nearly went Edward Cullen on a cow I passed on the highway in Akron. Then I asked myself when I started to find bushy eyebrows, stubble, and narrowed eyes sexy?

  “Anyone else you want to scare off?” I ask finding my voice.

  “The one who should have run from me is still gripping my hips.”

  “What?” I ask then look down to see I was, in fact, gripping his hips. “Oops.”

  “I wasn’t complaining,” he smirks devilishly. “I like your grip. It’s strong. Like the woman.”

  “I noticed when you aren’t staring at me you’re watching the exits,” I throw out and watch shock hit his face that a female he’d just met could be that observant. “Are you waiting for someone else?”

  He didn’t respond to my statement. Instead, he brought up the wild way we’d come to meet. “Who was he to you?” he asks and if anyone in the lobby thought this man standing between my legs was weird, they didn’t let on.

  And I knew exactly the who he was referring to. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to share so I went with, “Someone I loved very much.”

  “I got that,” he says grinding his jaw. “But who was he to you in your life? Husband? Boyfriend?”

  Letting out a sad sigh, I whisper, “He was…my everything.”

  “You said you plan to start dating again,” he says moving even closer leaving not a breath between us. “That’s why I responded.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Finn,” he leans in very close to my mouth. So, close the brim of his hat rested against my forehead and our lips touched. “You belong to me now.”

  And that kids, is the moment self-preservation should have kicked in.

  But, it didn’t.

  The video started with her flicking hair from her flushed face. Leaning in close, she smiles so beautifully my heart stopped. With tears in her eyes she said, “I miss you,” and I wanted to tell her I missed her too.

  Logically I knew she wasn’t speaking to me but I couldn’t look away. So when she said, “I have something to show you,” and angled her camera to the world around her, I was transported.

  “Cappadocia, Turkey,” she said slowly turning in a circle to show me the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, next to her, of course. And there it was, the sky was full of them. “This hot air balloon is so sick,” she chuckled and aimed at the guy flying it. Pouting adorably, she said, “He won’t let me pilot, boo.”

  When her face fell, I knew she was going to end the video and I actually yelled out, “No,” because I needed more. Just before her beauty left me in the dark she whispered, “I did it, Ryan.”

  If I thought she was breathtaking in a text photo, seeing her in person nearly felled me. Her hair was normally long and wild. Even pulled up I knew the ends would touch my chest when she rode me. Not if, when.

  She had the brightest light blue eyes I have ever beheld, legs that went on for days and while her tits weren’t huge, I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra but that they stood high all on their own. Her tank displayed strong defined arms and chiseled shoulders, her fucking lips were puffy like they’d been nibbled on…

  Thank fuck I made it in time.

  Because whatever male she chose wouldn’t stand a chance against her.

  I was already a goner.

  I was going to be her everything, even if it killed me. And being honest with myself, I knew that it would. I also knew it would be one hell of a way to go.

  This woman, Finn Lee, was venturesome.

  It radiated from her, coated me, seared me clean.

  The unknown I loved so much didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

  And she wasn’t afraid of me.

  Clearly, she was touched in the head.

  But she was also hands-on. And if her grip was anything to go by, strong as fuck.

  Here I was standing between her thighs in a crowded hotel bar and found myself struggling not to reach into her jeans to get her off.

  “I belong to you now?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts. “Just like that?”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute,” I advise her. “Your messages concern me.”

  This was true. Finn, it seems, was a bonafide dare devil. She also played with weapons, fought viciously, leapt from buildings, surfed, braved fires, rode motorcycles, and dismantled fucking bombs. And these were the photos she sent within the last thirty days…

  “Why would anything I do concern you?”

  “Finn,” I say pressing my chest into hers. “You will find that when it comes to you, everything concerns me.”

  Staring at my mouth she says absently, “I’m a stunt woman.”

  Blinking at her because surely, I didn’t hear right, I ask, “Repeat that.”

  “I’m a stunt woman.”

  “When you say stunt woman –”

  “As in, I perform stunts in movies, videos, and commercials.”

  “Fuck me,” I mumble piecing it together.

  “Mostly, I act as a double,” she says softly. “But recently, I auditioned for a leading role.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Here, there, everywhere.”

  “You don’t have a home?”

  “Nope.”

  Neither did I…

  “Children?”

  “Ew.”

  “Pets?”

  “I live in hotels or in my trailer when I’m on location, Nix. I have a backpack and a passport.”

  “Nix, is it?”

  “It suits you,” she smiles beautifully raising the brim of my hat to see my eyes and asking, “What do you do?”

  “Later,” I promise her. “First, let’s have a drink.”

  An
d lucky for that bartender, he wasn’t the one who served us.

  Ryan traveled everywhere with me. When he wasn’t acting as my over-protective best friend, he was my personal trainer and partner in crime. So, when I slammed back my third shot, he crowded me mumbling, “You have to be on set in six hours, Finn.”

  Thinking on my morning scene, I giggle, “I can swim inebriated if I have to, relax.”

  “You’re either immortal or seriously drunk.”

  Throwing my arms around his neck, I squeal, “We’re in Hungary, Ryan. Let’s leave our mark! Egészségére!”

  Laughing, he kissed my forehead setting me back on my feet. Ryan thought it was cute that I learned how to say 'Cheers' in the native tongue of every country we visited.

  One drink led to five, with my hands going rogue on the third finding any plausible reason to touch him.

  It wasn’t just me acting like this either. His hands haven’t left my body in hours and it should tweak me out that I crave this. But as usual, the sane part of me is too busy purring like a kitten to care.

  I needed to eat something, but to do that would alter the course we’re on. The one where I’m his total focus. Where he asks me questions and I answer. Where I ask him questions and he doesn’t.

  By text messages alone, he pretty much knew my life story.

  And I liked not knowing his.

  It made him mysterious.

  Danger surrounded him, yet never got close enough to touch. Danger even kept its distance. I, however, could not. Phoenix-just-Phoenix with no last name, had incredibly long brown hair, muddy brown eyes, stubble on his face and smelled like cloves. In my line of work, I was surrounded by larger than life men and women, but never has anyone commanded my attention like he has. He was tall, cut, a mountain of power. But when he smirked or touched me a certain way, he looked so much younger. He was gorgeous because he had no idea he was or if he did, he didn’t care.

  “How long are you in town?” I ask tracing his thick thigh.

  “As long as it takes,” he says as his eyes search the exits again.