Sapphires & Emeralds
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2009 by Taylor Gibbs

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3 - NCIS fanfiction.An undercover assignment leads to an entanglement for NCIS. Will Abby get trapped in a web of lies? Who IS that blue-eyed stranger who sets her on fire with his touch? Gibbs and Abby pairing. Alt. Universe. Co-written with Zabby.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Fan Fiction  

Tim watched a bit helplessly as Abby practically ran from the room. Looking down at the man at their feet, he asked Tony, "What now?"

The guy was stirring and Tony nudged him with the tip of a foot. "Get up." He motioned to Tim to hold his weapon at the ready as the guy stirred while Tony drifted into the corridor in case the guy had backup. Abbs should have been covering it, but she'd disappeared, heading for the sanctuary she'd find with Mike and Ziva. He didn't blame her, had told Mike this was a bad idea.

Jet opened his eyes slowly, tugging on his arms and realizing they were caught behind his back, His concern started rising and he had to squelch the thread of panic starting to rise up ... How had she discovered who he was? Or was it someone else, did someone else grab the mark, the gorgeous woman? He was in a whole hell of a lot of trouble here. He watched as one man with a gun went into the hallway while the other had his trained on him.

"What do you want? We can work out a deal. Information or goods and services. Where is the girl?" Had they hurt or even killed her? "She's nothing to you. Let her go. I don't even know her. I'm the one you want."

Tim's eyes hardened at the almost possessive way the man on the floor talked about Abby. Raising his arm a little higher, holding his arm a little stiffer, he said, "The girl," he began, emphasizing the word "girl," "is none of your concern, dirtbag. You have bigger things to worry about."

"Tony? Are we clear? Can we move out?"

"Clear," Tony replied, coming back into the room. "What'd he say about Abbs?" Tony grabbed the guy and hauled him to his feet. "Here's the story. You drank too much, we're helping you to your car. You scream or let our secret out, we kill you. Tim, the knives."

Pulling out an evidence bag from his pocket, Tim deposited the weapons and sealed it. He'd sign it when they got outside. "He wanted to know where Abbs was, tried to sound all concerned about her welfare. Even offered himself for her. Real sweet," Tim added sarcastically.

"Real damn sweet. But he had his hands all over her. He's got her lipstick on his mouth, Tim." Abby was like their joint sister and nobody messed with her. The fact that this scumbag did meant he was toast. "Our boss is gonna love tearing you limb from limb, buddy. You're gonna wish you never locked eyes with Abby when we're done with you."

"He ... he touched her?" Tim growled out. He was rarely ever aggressive, preferred to leave that kind of behavior to Franks and Tony. Too many Alpha males in the pack tended to muck up the process of an investigation. But with Abby? Abby was someone special. Abby was someone good, sparkling, despite her normal Goth appearance. Abby was beautiful, in her soul and her face. Abby was ... Abby was Abby.

"Who gave you the right to touch Abby?" he ground out through his gritted teeth, the barrel of his gun shoved into the man's stomach. He knew Tony would help him, wouldn't let this scum complain about his treatment, for Abby they would do whatever it took.

"Kissed her at least," Tony growled, getting pissed that the guy wasn't flinching. He was supposed to be uneasy, not standing his ground like this, head held high even though Tim has his weapon jammed into his stomach.

The bulldogs were kind of charming ... in a dangerous gun-toting way. They were obviously trying to protect her, which meant instead of her being screwed, he was. Unless they knew her casually and had taken her prisoner first.

Jet was still a bit fuzzy but he realized he had been taken out face to face and not from behind. She must have hit him with a stun gun. His respect and admiration for her growing, he smirked. Whatever had happened, she was one hell of a kisser and he'd hold onto that, even if she was part of Ravenlocks and the two armed bears. The baby-faced one was interested in her, and he wanted to provoke him. The other guy was streetwise enough to keep the younger one from shooting. He recognized law enforcement in the harder one's eyes. He'd sure as hell crossed paths with enough law enforcement officers before and the fallen ones were the meanest. This guy probably washed out after a few years or was paid off to drift onto the other side of the law.

But back to Baby Face. Jet would lay odds that he was the heir apparent to whatever Jet'd stumbled into and the harder edged one was his reluctant trainer. Baby Face would be fun to rile up. It'd get his ass kicked, but he'd go down with a smile on his face at least.

"She gave me the right to touch, and stroke, and kiss. Quite a kisser, that woman," Jet said in a near purr.

Tim started to tremble when Tony said that the bastard had kissed Abby. He kissed Abby. He put his slimy, wrinkled, disgusting, old hands on her. The hand Tim had holding the gun started trembling more noticeably. More than anything, he wanted to shove his knee as hard as he could into the man's groin, and then ram his fist into that cocky, arrogant face. See how much he really wanted to keep saying then, instead of spewing all that crap about Abby. It wasn't true. It wasn't possible. Abby'd never be interested in someone like this creep.

"There's no way," he growled, "no goddamn way she let a scumbag like you touch her. She's too good for you, too good for anyone. I know she's got bad taste in boyfriends sometimes, but her taste isn't that bad, not bad enough to include you. So keep your damn trap shut before I shut it for you."

Timothy McGee wasn't normally a violent man, rather preferring to leave the brute force of the job to Franks and Tony, and, most often than not, Ziva. Though more comfortable with a gun now than when he had first started, Tim tended to be stronger digging around computers and hacking for clues than in interrogation. Granted, he was improving there too thanks to observing the other men's work. Ziva wasn't allowed to interrogate suspects too often as they sometimes didn't come out intact from the room.

But this was Abby. All bets were off.

Jet almost felt sympathy for a kid who wore his emotions on his sleeve like that, but he had to keep his mind in the game. And he knew this was a game, all of it. From the moment he'd walked into the event, but even further back, from the moment he'd begun building this identity and becoming this person. Everything he did, every move he made, was a delicate dance along a tightrope and below him was a pit of man-eating sharks, mouths wide open.

Some days he wondered if he wasn't too old for this.

And when he saw someone like this kid who obviously felt something for a woman way out of his league, Jet wondered where his life had failed. He'd never been as innocent as this kid. Losing his mother at a young age, having a father who he fought with all the time, the Marines. Innocence had been dragged out of him. And it'd been buried forever when his wife and daughter were killed while in the hands of federal law enforcement agents.

"Easy, kid. If you get a chance, ask her who kissed who. And who was making little cat sounds in the back of her throat." And who had knocked him down like a sack of potatoes.

"Why you son of a..." Tim pulled back to take a swing at the guy, not realizing that being beat up was probably part of the suspect's plan. Right as his arm started to swing down, he felt Tony take hold of him, preventing the impact. "Tony! What are you doing? Let me go. Tony, let my arm go! Someone's gotta teach this cocky, son of a bitch a lesson." He struggled futilely against Tony's hold, needing to release his anger.

"Abby's not like that," he exclaimed, turning on the suspect again. "There's no way," he said again, repeating his earlier statement. "There's no way." But a part of him had to realize that what the suspect was saying was true on some level. He had seen Abby's state when they busted in that alcove. He had seen her run away. What if what the guy was saying was true? And Abby had reacted so strangely? What did that mean?

So, he had gotten to kiss what Baby Face hadn't, Made a lot of sense. He cocked his head, giving the other man a mocking little smile. "Abby is just like that. One hell of a kisser and what she did with that tongue..."

Exaggeration, but if he kept them off balance the possibilities he could get free increased.

Tim's struggling increased dramatically at the suspect's crass words. No one got to talk about Abby that way. She was too good of a person to have someone spew out stuff better left for the bedroom. No, not the bedroom. He will never be in Abby's bedroom. The coffin would probably scare the man to death.

He smirked at that even while he still fought against Tony's hold. For all the creep's suave looks and cool demeanor, he was probably a rigid old man, who would never appreciate the creative and fertile mind behind Abby's eyes. Imagining how the man would react to finding out that Abby was really a tatted Goth, who liked to play with voodoo dolls and sleep in a coffin, Tim's blood managed to cool enough for him to hear Tony calling to him.

"TIM!" Tony rarely used his first name but this op was the time for it. "Don't let him rile you! It isn't worth it! He's pushing you because he knows you're going to react. Stay on target. Stay in the game!"

Tony tapped Tim's head like Mike did when they needed to focus.

Tim winced as Tony's hand made contact with the back of his head, but it did help to refocus him. There was nothing he could do here right now. But when he got back to NCIS headquarters, there were plenty of things he could do when he was behind his computer.

"You can't lay a hand on him, Tim. And Abby wouldn't want you to put your neck on the line like you're doing. Don't give him any power. Don't allow him to screw with your mind, Tim. He's a dirtbag. He isn't worth it."

Tony knew he had to get through to Tim but he wasn't sure how to accomplish that. He tried to keep his voice soft and quiet even though he knew it was McGee who had to decide that this dirtbag wasn't worth it.

"Think of Abby. And think of how Mike is gonna ream him, Tim. You know Mike'll get answers no matter what he needs to do to accomplish it." Tony grinned, knowing it was forced but not really caring. If it looked a little unstable, what the hell. Maybe that'd get the dirtbag thinking. "He is toast, Timmy. He just isn't smart enough to know it yet."

A low growl coming from him, Tim said, "Abby wouldn't have to know. Can't you see that he's gonna go after her. That he thinks he's made some claim to her. He can't have her, Tony. He can't." But he had to concede to Tony's logic about Mike. "Think Mike'll let me at him when he's done?" he asked, though he was pretty sure he knew what the answer was going to be.

"McGee," Tony said warningly. He was as pissed off at this guy's balls as Tim was but he was used to suspects blustering. Sometimes he forgot that McGee was still a probie at heart. "Let Mike work him over. Don't listen to him. Abby doesn't like grandfathers. She doesn't even like older uncles, remember?"

Tony was bothered by the guy's calmness under fire. This was a problem. He'd either been expecting this or had backup and they had to be extra careful. If this was the drug-dealing Marine scum, he was going to spend the rest of his life in Leavenworth and the team would gladly put him there.

Shoving Tony off of him, Tim started pacing, throwing furious looks at the stranger. He knew that if he didn't get his emotions under control he could blow the entire investigation. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Breathe, McGee! Go to your happy place. Think about writing, sitting in your leather chair, your pipe smoking in the ashtray next to you, a hot plotline flowing from your fingers, the clicking of the keys. It started working, calming him, restoring him to a state more like the Timothy McGee people knew.

When he finally got himself under a little bit of control, he asked, "So what do we do now? Can we take him outside now, or do we have to keep listening to his crap?"

"Back with me, Tim?" Tony asked quietly, He'd usually rag on the Probie but not with a suspect provoking him. They were family and this guy was screwing with family and they stuck together. "Ready to get the dirtbag to the big boss? Mike will make him pay, and not leave any marks."

"Yeah, Tony. I'm back with you. Sorry about that. I don't know what came over me," he said, hoping it sounded like a good enough explanation, or at least a good enough excuse that Tony would drop it and Tim could be left to figure out how to get the old bastard back. He may not have the physical prowess of Franks and Tony, or the cunning and skills of Ziva, but Tim had his own ways, his own strengths that he would use to get the suspect in his own way.

"Happens to us all," Tony answered, giving McGee an encouraging look. And with the way Tim felt about Abby, Tony should have expected it. "Let's get moving. Wasting a lot of time here."

Tony jammed the guy's hands down to the small of his back. "You yell, we shoot and ask questions later and dead is dead, got it?" Tony knew in his gut that this guy had done something to shake Abby up and even though he knew it was unprofessional, he accidentally slammed the man's head into the wall as they left the alcove.

What the hell? Jet's head was reeling anyway and when it was slammed against the wall he saw stars. He'd figured this whole situation wrong and was screwed as a result. She was the bait and not the mark at all and he'd fallen into their trap. His bosses knew he went on and off grid at will. How long before they got worried and investigated? Too damn long, he knew it. He was on his own here.

As soon as their guards were down, he needed to overpower them and get free, whatever the cost. It was the only option left for him.

Leading the way out, Tim cleared the hallway again and proceeded quickly to the nearest exit, covering each alcove, room and hallway along the way.

Tony led the guy out, feeling the tension and the bunched muscles. "Killed before and I'll kill again, so don't get any ideas, buddy." He tried to use his Jack Nicholson voice, but he was too worried about Abby to make it sound convincing.

When they got outside, Tony hurried to the van, aware that the dirtbag's backup could be lurking behind every car or up every tree. He opened the door and threw the guy in for Ziva to handle then came around the front. "Boss, Abby took..." Then Tony realized Abby was in the passenger seat. "You okay, Abbs?"

She turned to look at the voice coming through her window. "Hey, Tony. I'm okay, I promise. I keep telling Franks that, but he won't listen to me." Holding up her hands, she said, "See? No bruises, no marks. He didn't hurt me, I swear. I'm just ... not good in the field. I belong in my lab. That's all. Gonna check that off my list of things I do well. Field agent, no. Forensic scientist, yes. Did I ... Is he okay?"

Her lipstick was smeared. "Did he force you to kiss him?" Tony asked quietly. Abbs was his best friend. She was the soul of all of them and he hated that she'd been put in this position. But Ziva was too cool in those circumstances, nobody had wanted to approach her before and in the meantime people were dying. They were desperate to find answers before anyone else got hurt.

She didn't answer him. She couldn't. What would Tony say, or for that matter what would Mike say, if they knew that she had let a suspect get that close? Close enough to kiss, to touch, to... stop it, Sciuto, she warned herself. Sure, she could blame it on being undercover and that it was part of the job. But Abby wasn't the kind of girl to lie to her guys that way. She knew, deep down, that it hadn't happened because she'd been undercover. Maybe I can blame it on a low intake of Caf-Pow ... hmm...

"He said you kissed him. Is he lying, Abbs? Did you kiss him or did he force you..." Tony had to know how hard to kick his ass,

Abby turned to look at him, desperation painted all over her face, darker than the smeared lipstick had been at the beginning of the evening. "Tony..." she whispered, begging him not to push it, to push her. What if he lost respect for her? She'd never been in this situation before, never been put on the spot like this. Well, once with Mikel, and that had been hard enough. This was so much different, so much more exposed than even that ordeal had been.

Leaning forward, she popped the visor down. With a Kleenex from her clutch, she wiped at the lipstick that had given her away, that had put her in the spotlight in between Mike and Tony. Looking in the small mirror, she finally noticed how swollen and red her lips were now, even without the makeup. She looked ... well, kissed.

"Abbs," Tony replied, her eyes telling the story. He watched her, knowing there was a lot that they needed to deal with. Why she was so shaken up. Why she seemed to have changed in such a short time. His Spidey senses were screaming that there was a lot more to this and they needed to investigate not only the dirtbag but how he'd shaken Abby up.

And when she wiped that lipstick off, it just make her look even more like she'd romped with some random dirtbag, not less. And it bothered him. He and Abby weren't involved—never had been. But he thought of her like his tattooed Goth wild child sister and nobody was going to mess with her on his watch.

Settling back against the chair with a "whoomp" sound, all she could do was stare at her face in the mirror, defeated, knowing she wasn't fooling either of them. Her lips were swollen from her encounter with Jet, her eyes wide and confused, her hair was slightly messy. What kind of a tangled web had she gotten herself in now? Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. How fitting, she thought bitterly. Sir Walter Scott had NO idea how right he was when he wrote that.

Closing her eyes against the sight in front of her she asked again, "Is he all right?"

Tony wondered why she was asking about the dirtbag. Did she not trust them? Or was there something to that kiss? "He's fine. Have him in the back of the van. May have hit his head..." Tony gave a wolfish grin to Mike, knowing that the boss would know that it hadn't been completely innocent but that it had been justified. The dirtbag had hurt their Abbs. He was lucky he was still walking. "But he's fine, Abbs and you never have to see him again."

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