Hard As Steel: A Hard Ink/Raven Riders Crossover (1001 Dark Nights) (6 page)

Jess held on like her life depended on it, and at some point she became aware of the breeze on her bare skin. She’d dropped the towel, which meant she was totally buck-ass naked in Ike’s big arms, and she couldn’t have cared less.

Ike licked her mouth, sucked her tongue, nipped at her lips. He turned with her still in his arms and made for the stairs, and Jess thought she might die from sheer joy and anticipation. He tasted like strength and sin and sex, and she tightened her legs around his hips as he carried her to the loft, eager to see if
all
of him tasted so good—or even better.

When they reached the second floor, Ike growled low in his throat and his grip tightened on her ass, his fingers digging in. She moaned and—

Cool air from the ceiling fan washed over Jess as Ike dropped her onto the bed—and promptly turned around to leave. Jess was so stunned she couldn’t speak. Just as he hit the top of the steps, he said, “Don’t fucking tease me, Jessica. I’m trying to do right by you, but I’m still just a goddamned man.”

* * * *

Ike felt like a bomb waiting to go off.

For one goddamned second, he’d let himself off the leash, and he’d been all over Jess.

For two glorious minutes, he’d held her and tasted her and had his hands and mouth all over her.

For the past three hours, he’d worn a path in the wooden floor of his cabin, wanting more but holding himself back from taking it. And feeling hungry and empty and desperate, like a man who’d just had his last meal and would now be forced to go without for the rest of his life.

After the stunt he’d pulled, he was also worried about Jess. Because after he’d dropped her curvy little ass on the bed—trying like hell not to put a visual to the fucking incredible physical sensations he had from carrying her naked body up the stairs, she’d never come back down.

She hadn’t said a word or made a sound, either. And combined with the chaos roaring through Ike’s body, her silence was driving him stark-raving mad.

Man-up, Ike. You created this problem. Fucking fix it.

He walked to the bottom of the steps. “Jess?” No answer. “Jess, I’m coming up.” Nothing. He frowned, but then he was in motion, his boots thudding against the treads as he made his way to the loft.

The sight that greeted him sucker-punched him right in the heart.

Jess was curled into a little ball on her side, her hands tucked under her face. She’d folded the blanket over her, but it had slid down, leaving her shoulder and breasts exposed.

God, she was fucking beautiful.

Maybe it made him a pervert, but Ike was drawn to the bed. He crouched down beside it, his gaze drinking Jess in. Her skin was a work of art. Her right arm had a swirling watercolor rainbow and waterfall running the whole length of it, flowers and fish woven in. Her shoulder and biceps had an ornate Mexican
calavera
skull, the detail done in reds and golds and dark blues. Ike remembered every one of the after-hours sessions they’d spent together doing these pieces, Jess telling him one colorful story after another. The time with her had made it simultaneously easier and harder to go home to his empty apartment—easier because her liveliness and passion filled up some of the dark, lonely places inside him; harder because he never felt more empty and alone in his apartment than after spending a night with Jess talking his ear off. Smiling at him. Teasing him. Making him want.

On her other arm, Ike could just make out the black and dark-green leaves surrounding the wide-open faces of a half-dozen bright-pink roses. She’d already had part of that sleeve done when Ike first met her, but he’d expanded it for her over the years.

His gaze skimmed over her chest, where a constellation of different sized dark-blue and black nautical stars spilled over her right collarbone, down her chest, between the curves of her breasts, to finally end in a sweeping flourish on the right side of her ribs. She was fascinating and alluring to look at, and that was saying absolutely nothing about the little silver hoops piercing through her nipples. Jesus.

Ike reached across Jess and pulled up the blanket, covering her.

What was even more fascinating, though, was her face. Usually so animated, colorful, and just fucking
alive
with emotion, she looked peaceful and oddly young sleeping, her face bare of makeup. And it made him feel even more protective of her.

With gentle fingers, he pushed a wave of black and red hair off her face—and was surprised to feel how warm her cheek felt. He pressed his fingers to her forehead and found her warm there, too. Someday he’d get around to installing air conditioning in this old place, but he spent so much more of his time in Baltimore that he hadn’t made it a priority.

Sighing, Ike made his way back downstairs. At least she hadn’t come back down because she was avoiding him. And now that he thought about it, he was fucking tired, too. Jess had called him around four in the morning and he’d made it to her apartment on the second floor of an old row house within twenty minutes. After he’d gotten her out of that little shit hole of a crawl space and held her in his arms to prove to himself he hadn’t lost her, they’d packed a bag, gone back to his apartment so he could pack and grab some extra firepower, and made their way to the remaining part of the Hard Ink building in time for the team’s morning brief about their investigation.

He kicked off his boots and stretched out on the couch, intent on catching a little shut-eye himself. Except the minute his eyes closed, a movie started playing on the back of his lids. The terrified and embarrassed look on Jess’s face during that morning brief when she saw the projected image of a tattoo worn by one of their enemies—and she realized she’d slept with someone wearing a tat just like that a few days before.

His eyes blinked open again and his gaze settled on the ceiling’s exposed wooden beams.

Given the way Ike had always felt about Jess, he didn’t love hearing about her sexual exploits—which were many and often colorful. Not because he disapproved, but because he wished he could be the one making her come, making her shake, making her scream his name. Otherwise, he didn’t get a fucking say in who Jess gave her love or her body to, and he knew it.

But Ike did get to be pissed that someone had apparently picked her up for the express purpose of using her for information about Nick and Jeremy, and then came back days later, after attacking and destroying part of Hard Ink, to tie up loose ends. As if Jess was just so much disposable trash.

Ike’s hands fisted.

The only thing he hated about protecting Jess right now was that it kept him from being a part of the fight back in Baltimore…where Ike might get the hands-on opportunity to find the man who had done these things to Jess and teach him some manners—or put him in the grave. Ike didn’t really care which.

Ike wasn’t aware of finally drifting off to sleep. All he knew was that he opened his eyes to total darkness. He flew into a sitting position. Momentarily forgetting where he was, he reached for the lamp on the nightstand that wasn’t there. Because he wasn’t in his apartment back home, he was at the cabin. With Jess.

How the hell long had he been asleep?

He reached for the lamp on the console table behind him and flicked it on.

Across the room, the kitchen clock hanging on the wall said it was almost nine thirty. Jesus, he’d slept all day.

On a big yawn, Ike rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and then he heaved himself off the couch. His eyes went immediately to the loft, which was as quiet and still as it’d been earlier in the day.

“Jess?” he called. Nothing. And then…was that a small moan? He crossed to the steps. “Jessica, you up?”

“Ike,” she said in a croaking voice.

Ike took the steps two at a time and found Jess lying on her back. In the dim light cast by the lamp downstairs, he could see that she’d pushed the covers down below her belly button. As he closed the distance between them, she pulled a pillow over her breasts, and the movement looked like it took an inordinate amount of effort.

Ike frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. Before he even touched her, he could feel the heat radiating off of her. And it had nothing to do with the lack of air conditioning in the cabin because the night air had cooled the place down by a lot. “Hey. You okay?”

She shook her head. “Feel bad.”

He put his hand on her forehead. Her skin was on fire. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”

Jess grasped his hand in both of hers and pressed it more firmly to her forehead, then her cheek, then her neck. “Hand is cold. Feels so good.”

“Besides the fever, what else feels bad?” he asked.

“Just hurt everywhere,” she said, looking up at him. The pain on her face and in her eyes slayed him.

“We need to break this fever. I’ll be back.”

She clung harder to his hand. “Don’t leave.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m not. Just getting something to make you feel better.”

“’kay,” she whispered. As he rose, she turned onto her side, balling herself around the pillow. Drawing her knees up pulled them out from under the covers, exposing the big, intricate dream catcher that started on her hip and ran beaded feathers down the outside of her thigh.

Ike had done that piece, too.

God, it was like he could measure his life these past few years in the moments he spent putting ink on her body.

Downstairs, Ike made quick work of gathering some Ibuprofen, a glass of water, and a wet washcloth. When he returned, Jess was in the same position as when he’d left, her heavy eyelids making it clear she’d nearly fallen back to sleep.

He needed to get drugs in her first. “Hey, Jess. Can you wake up? I have some medicine for you.”

She pushed herself onto an elbow and downed the pills and some water. “Thanks.” When she settled down again, he placed the cold washcloth against her forehead. She moaned and covered it with her hand. “That feels good.”

Ike nodded and cleared his throat. “You know, uh, you never got dressed before you fell asleep earlier. Want me to grab you a T-shirt? Or something?”

“Too hot,” she whispered. “Is it bothering you?”

Given the amount of ink he’d put on her body, he’d seen
a lot
of her up close and personal—he’d done the stars running around her right breast, after all. And he knew how much it pleased her that he appreciated what he saw, too. So, under other circumstances, he might’ve suspected her of being coy, but there wasn’t an ounce of mischief in her right now. “No. Just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Never could,” she said, eyes drifting shut. “You’re a good man, Ike Young. The best.”

As much as he couldn’t agree with the sentiment, he also couldn’t deny liking hearing it. From her.

He grasped the washcloth to turn it over, only to feel it soaked through with the heat of her fever. This time when he left, she didn’t notice. He cooled it down in the bathroom sink, then returned to her bedside and laid it against her forehead and the side of her face.

In her sleep, the corner of her mouth curved up.

Ike sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, and then he moved to the old brown armchair that sat in the corner by the window and pulled out his phone.

What’s the word there?
He shot off the text to Dare.

Dare’s response popped up a minute later.
We set up some snipers’ roosts to get better eyes on the area. Holed up in one for the night. Got the guys organized into watch units. Otherwise things are quiet.
Dare was a good choice for lookout—he was one of the best shots Ike knew.

Sorry I’m not there
, Ike replied.

Do the job you need to do
, Dare said. Of all people, Ike knew Dare wouldn’t question his need to protect Jess. No one knew the full extent of the shit that had rained down on Dare as a kid, but the man seemed to have devoted his life to making up for it by taking care of as many people as he could. Hell, Dare had put it right there in the Ravens’ motto: “Ride. Fight. Defend.”

Another message from Dare:
Jeremy accepted responsibility for Harvey and Creed’s deaths today.

What the fuck? Why would Jeremy think he was responsible for the Ravens’ deaths? He wasn’t the one who’d shot a missile at the Hard Ink building in a predawn attack—that was all on the mercenaries masquerading as legitimate defense contractors that the team had identified at the morning’s brief. Former military guys who worked for Seneka Worldwide Security, Nick’s teammate had said when he’d showed the image of the tattoo that had set Jess and him off on their flight out of the city.

And on top of it all, Jeremy had nearly been killed when part of the warehouse’s roof collapsed. Responsible for Harvey and Creed dying? Hardly.

OK, I’ll take care of it
, Ike responded. He knew the hell that guilt for someone else’s death caused. He’d dealt with it for years. Only, for Ike, it was deserved. No way was he letting Jeremy, his best friend outside the Ravens, think any of that burden lay at his feet.

On a sigh, Ike dropped his head against the back of the chair. Fuck, he was tired. And not just because of the disrupted sleep and the crisis he’d helped manage back at Hard Ink the past few weeks. Ike was tired of the weight of the guilt he bore. He was tired of living half a life. He was tired of being alone—and knowing he didn’t deserve more.

His gaze drifted over to Jessica, still balled in the center of the bed.

She definitely deserved more than he was or he could give. Which, in a twisted way, probably meant it was a good thing she’d gotten sick. Ike wouldn’t be tempted to jump her the way he had this afternoon when she’d come out of the bathroom, skin still warm and damp and pink from the shower. And if he kept his hands off, he wouldn’t give her the mistaken impression that they could be anything more than they were.

Just friends.

Chapter 6

A long, low moan had Ike’s eyes snapping open. He wasn’t the slightest bit disoriented this time. Instead, his gaze cut immediately to Jess, who was moving restlessly on the bed, though she still seemed to be asleep.