A/N: This isn't a popular pairing, I know, but I think it has great potential, winkwink. Hope you review!

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Every Inch A Mile

So she was attractive. Fairly.

It stopped there.

For one thing, she was his brother's wife. A million other arguments stemmed from that one alone. And then there was the fact that they were escaped convicts, not to mention she wasn't even supposed to be with them, but no, she insisted on coming. All of this combined with his trust issues, except that they weren't really issues, he was just extremely careful about who he did and did not trust.

Nika Volek fell right in the middle.

Guilt crept over him. He had no reason to doubt her loyalty- then she had stolen his gun. Disgust replaced the guilt quickly; he had fallen for it, and left the weapon within easy reach. But then again, he hadn't thought she would have gone for it. He had no reason.

Reason, reason. It all came back to that.

Reason sucked. Reason was what kept his mind from flitting back to when she hugged him. How his hands fit perfectly around her waist. The warmth of her body as it brushed up against his chest. Hell, the whole thing in general.

Normally he would have dismissed the thought. Of course; being in jail would do that to you. Other than Veronica, Sara had been the only woman he had seen in what seemed like in entirely too long, and Linc knew how hard his brother had fallen for her. That, and he simply wasn't interested in Sara.

Not like Nika.

He snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He was getting warm. Michael slept soundly in the backseat, oblivious to what was going on around him. Nika stared absently stared out the window.

Lincoln scowled. This was ridiculous. He needed to get out of the car, and fast. His eyes shot back to the road where a gas station lay ahead. He pulled into a parking space and twisted to look into the back. "Michael, wake up."

"What?" Instantly his brother was alert and awake.

"We're taking a pit stop." He opened the car door, got out, and slammed it behind him with a little more force than necessary, stalking, irritated, into the convenience store.

The teenage kid working the cash register gave him an odd look, but didn't comment. Michael entered the store moments later, heading for the restrooms. Lincoln paid for a drink and some food, then dumped it through the window of the backseat, walking off to the side of the building, hands shoved in his pockets. He leaned his back against the concrete, sighing tiredly, closing his eyes. Three seconds passed before they flew open again. "What?"

"I said, is something wrong?" Nika repeated, frowning at him. Her arms were crossed as she rested her shoulder on the wall.

Yes. No.

"Where's Michael?" he growled, not answering.

"Still in the bathroom. Look, I know you probably don't like me-"

Hardly.

"-but I needed a place to go. I can't go back."

She is not pouting at me.

"I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking." He was half-amused, half-annoyed. "I don't have time to be mad. I don't care why you're here. Whatever Michael says. He's the brains, you're his wife. He decides what happens to you. We done?"

"You're lying."

He smirked. "Elaborate."

"You're mad," she said, angrily glaring. "Don't toy with me."

Laughter erupted from his mouth. "You're not going to pin this on me, Nika, not a chance. I'm not the one that started this conversation." Sarcasm seeped into his tone at this.

"You can't think this is funny." She stared at him disbelievingly.

"Oh, it's very funny." He rolled on his shoulder so they were standing front to front. He lowered his head to look her in the eye, amusement only lingering in the back of his mind now. "Get in the car, Nika."

She stepped forward, her breath tickling his lips. He forced himself not to retreat. "I know what you're thinking." She whispered, the hint of an impious smile at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled, challenging.

The amusement was back. "Really." His voice was no louder than hers. "You think so."

"Yeah."

She was closer now, so close that if he dipped his head even slightly, their lips would be touching. The sounds of the gas station and passing cars faded into the background as their gazes stayed locked in silent competition.

The next thing he knew, her lips were on his and his hand was sliding from her jawline to the back of her neck, and his fingers were threading through her hair while he did so, and then the sound of a car door closing jerked him harshly back to reality.

He dropped his hand, balancing himself upright. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you."

One eyebrow shot up as she regarded him through dark lashes. "Maybe." She raised her chin defiantly and she glanced at him over her shoulder as she walked away. "Maybe not."

He almost smiled at her retreating back, and walked behind her to the car.

Michael sat in the front seat, waiting, patient as he was most of the time. He didn't ask where they had been.

Gazes met again over the roof of the car. He opened the driver's side door; she opened the one behind Michael.

"Maybe, huh?"

"Mhmm."

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