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

by Laura Kaye

  “I, uh, asked if you thought it would help if I got in with you.” The expression he wore said he was dubious about the idea.

  And as much as Jess loved the idea, she didn’t want him doing anything with her that he didn’t really want to do. “That’s okay. Why don’t you go get some sleep now? It’s gotta be almost morning.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, and then he tapped his hand against her arm. “Scoot over.”

  “Ike—”

  “Damnit, scoot your scrawny ass over already.” He cocked an eyebrow, humor sliding into his eyes.

  “Well, I’ll scoot over,” she said as she made herself move. “But you and I both know there ain’t anything scrawny about my ass.”

  “Jessica?” Ike said as he got in next to her wearing only his jeans.

  “Yeah?” The minute he was down, she nearly dove into the crook of his body, her forehead against his neck, her breasts against his ribs, her bare legs intertwined with his denim-clad ones. She wasn’t sure where to put her hand, because the not-sick part of her brain wanted to touch him everywhere right now. Oh my God, I’m in bed with Ike! But she settled for resting it on his chest, the hair on his pecs ticklish against her fingers.

  “Shut up and go to sleep.” He took the edge off the words by clasping her hand in his and pressing it more firmly to his skin.

  “Be nice to me. I’m sick,” she said, burrowing in further.

  Ike wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tighter against him. God, he felt good, warm and hard and strong. “Woman,” he said, his voice full of gravel. “This is me being nice.”

  * * * *

  Most of the next two days were a blur to Jess. The fever had come back, so she’d alternated between long sleeps and short periods of wakefulness where she choked down enough medicine and water to let her sink into unconsciousness again. Ike was still beside her every time she opened her eyes, taking care of her in every way she needed.

  Ike’s attentiveness did funny things to her insides—it wasn’t something she was used to. Her dad had been great, but he’d never been overtly affectionate and certainly never fussed over her when she’d gotten sick. Hell, he went to work with fevers, migraines, and bullet wounds, and was pretty much of the mindset that if you weren’t bleeding out, you were good to go.

  After her dad died, Jeremy had played a big role in helping Jess pull herself together. Luckily, she’d inherited enough money to take care of herself, but it was really the job at Hard Ink that finally forced her to start getting dressed again and face the world. Day by day, with Jeremy’s constant friendship and encouragement, things had gotten easier, life had gotten better, and the hole inside her shrank—at least a little. Getting back on her feet had given her the strength to start to forgive herself for falling in with a crowd of friends who’d been into way more trouble that she’d known—trouble that had gotten her father killed in the first place. She wished like hell he was still around to say “I told you so,” because he’d been a hundred percent right.

  In her whole life, besides her father, no one had been there for her more than Jeremy and Ike. And that made them the two most important people in her world.

  Stretching her aching limbs, Jess blinked open her eyes. Ike was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. “Hey,” she said.

  He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile. “There you are. How ya feeling?”

  “Sore. And tired. And really freaking disgusting.” She adjusted Ike’s big T-shirt on her shoulders as she turned over onto her stomach—during one of the periods where the broken fever left her shivering, Ike had dressed her. “And I hope you bought a couple bags of Doritos because I swear to God I could eat every single one.”

  “Maybe you ought to start with some toast,” he said, eyebrow arched.

  Fair point, given that she’d only had the broth and a few noodles from chicken noodle soup the day before and part of a banana that morning. She asked Ike to get Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets at the store, and he came home with fruit. Go figure. “Toast is boring. Doritos are life.”

  Ike shifted toward her on the bed. “Yeah, but Doritos will be way worse coming back up.” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “Feels like the fever’s gone.”

  “I think so,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Which is good because that really sucked.”

  “Apparently, you got taken out by a six-year-old. I talked to Bunny earlier and Ben’s been sick, too.”

  “Aw, hope he’s okay,” she said. It had to be terrible watching a little kid be so sick.

  Emotions Jess couldn’t read moved across Ike’s rugged face. “If you want to grab a shower, I’ll throw some dinner together for us.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said. “I need to get out of this bed anyway. I’m not even sure what freaking day it is at this point.”

  Ike rose and offered her a hand. “Tuesday.”

  “Wow,” she said, allowing him to help steady her as she got out of bed. Ike’s shirt was so big on her it nearly hit her knees, and part of her was sad to change out of it. But, honestly, it should’ve probably been burned at this point.

  “You okay to go it on your own?” he asked, half looking like he expected her to fall on her ass.

  Jess grabbed a few things from her bag and made for the steps. “I’m good,” she said. “Though if you still feel inclined to carry me around everywhere, I won’t complain. A girl could get used to that, you know.”

  She threw a smirk over her shoulder and he shook his head.

  When she was clean and dressed in actual clothes for what felt like the first time in forever, she met Ike in the kitchen where she found two plates on the counter. One with very lightly buttered toast and a banana, the other with a big-ass ham and cheese sandwich and a mound of Doritos. Her Doritos.

  She planted her hands on the counter. “That is so not fair, Ike Young.”

  He scooped the plates up and transferred them to the table. “Better?” he asked, throwing a single chip onto her plate.

  “You are not funny,” she said, glaring at him as she sank into the seat.

  He held his hand up, thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. “I’m a little funny,” he said, stealing her words from the day they’d arrived.

  “Have you heard from anyone at Hard Ink?” she asked as she took a bite of her toast. Amazing how something so simple could taste like heaven after days of not eating much.

  “I’ve talked to Dare a few times. Seems like things are in a holding pattern right now as they track down some leads. Guys are getting antsy.” Ike tossed a chip in his mouth and made a big show of enjoying it.

  “You suck,” Jess said. “Better save me some, too.”

  Ike chuckled and gave her a wink. “I bought three bags.”

  “Good.” They ate in silence for a few minutes as Jess wolfed down her food. When she was done, she brushed off her fingers over the plate. “I’m worried about everyone.”

  “Nick and his team know what they’re doing, and the Ravens can handle themselves. Don’t worry.” Ike gave her a look full of confidence.

  It helped. Jess nodded. “I know. But these aren’t any run-of-the-mill criminals they’re up against.”

  “True enough,” he said. “But the neighborhood around Hard Ink has been cordoned off and no one is getting in or out without our guys knowing it.”

  “Well, that’s good,” she said. “It’s just…” Jess hesitated to finish the thought, but given the danger they were all in, it felt like it should be said. “You and Jeremy, and even Nick…you guys have become my family the past few years. And I couldn’t take it if anything happened to any of you.”

  Chapter 7

  The only thing Ike didn’t like about Jess feeling better was that he no longer had an excuse to sleep with her. Selfish bastard.

  They’d been sitting on the couch for a few hours trying to find something to watch. Cop and military type shows were out—too much like real life. The Walking De
ad marathon was out, because people you liked always died on that show—too much like what they feared life might become. Ike had suggested the World Series of Poker, but Jess thought watching people play cards was boring. She’d suggested a dancing reality show, but Ike put the kibosh on that idea with a single look. Ike’s desire to put off sleeping alone again had him finally agreeing to a house hunting show Jess liked where the couple saw three houses and had to decide which to buy.

  Ike’s conclusion: people were idiots sometimes.

  “Should’ve picked the older house. More character,” he said.

  “Right?” Jess said, smiling. “You can fix up an older house, but it’s harder to give a newer house that kind of character.”

  “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he said, giving her a wink.

  “Because I’m awesome.” She turned toward him on the couch and propped her elbow on the back of the couch.

  Well, Ike couldn’t disagree with that, but he probably shouldn’t agree with it either. Lest it lead them into saying—or doing—things they probably shouldn’t. Now that Jess was feeling better, Ike’s brain kept resurrecting the memory of their fucking amazing kiss as Ike had carried her to the loft. And his body was completely on board with the idea of picking up where they’d left off.

  Ike stretched his arms over his head and yawned so big his jaw cracked. “Man, I’m dragging.”

  Jess peered up at him. “Can’t imagine why. It’s not like you’ve lost any sleep the past couple days while taking care of anyone.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know if you remember me telling you this the other night, but I really didn’t mind, Jess. Still don’t.”

  She nodded, her gaze assessing, maybe even hopeful. “You know, you could still sleep in the bed if you want.”

  Oh, he wanted, all right. “Nah. Be fine here.”

  Hell, if the disappointment that flickered across her face wasn’t a kick in the gut. But he was doing the right thing for both of them. Besides, he’d rather have Jess in his life as a friend—even if he wanted more—than fuck things up with her one way or another and lose her altogether.

  Her words from before still echoed in his head. You guys have become my family the past few years. And I couldn’t take it if anything happened to any of you.

  Ike felt the same way about her and Jeremy. Since he saw and worked with them every day at Hard Ink, he’d come to be as close to them as he was with the Ravens, who he’d known for over a decade.

  And Ike knew for goddamned sure that he wouldn’t be able to take it if anything happened to Jeremy or Jess, but especially Jess—whose safety and protection rested squarely on his shoulders.

  Thus why he would not be sleeping in the bed again.

  “Okay, then,” she said, rising. “I’ll go up so you can get some rest. Besides, I want lots of sleep tonight so I have enough energy to sit on the couch all day tomorrow eating Doritos and watching trash TV.”

  “It’s important to have goals,” Ike said, shaking his head.

  Jess chuckled. “My thoughts exactly.”

  When she disappeared into the bathroom, Ike took the opportunity to grab a pillow and blanket from the closet in the loft as well as something to sleep in and clothes for the morning. By the time she came out, her wavy red and black hair pulled into two low pigtails that sent Ike’s thoughts right into the gutter, he’d made up a bed on the couch.

  “Night,” she said, heading up the steps.

  “Night,” he replied, watching her hips sway in a pair of silky black shorts. Combined with the form-fitting black tank top and those perfect-for-grabbing pigtails, she was going to make it damn hard for him to fall asleep tonight.

  Damn hard, indeed.

  He turned out the light and went horizontal, the soft couch so comfortable against his sore back even though it was a little too short to fit his whole body. He adjusted his erection, willing it to get with the no-sex-with-Jess program. Problem was, in the quiet darkness, Ike could hear her moving around in the loft. Soft footsteps on the wood floor. The shifting of covers. The squeaking of the box spring. And all that did was invite his imagination out to play. Easy, since he had so much material to work with after sleeping with Jess wrapped around him the past two nights.

  His shoulders and chest knew what the silk of her hair felt like when it skimmed over his skin. His hip knew the heat of her core when she slept with her knee across his thighs. His hands had memorized the curve of her lower back and the shape of her biceps and just how much of her luscious ass he could fit in his palms.

  Ike knew what her mouth tasted like, how tight her legs could wrap around his waist, and how fucking beautiful the combination of ink and steel was on her skin.

  Jesus, his cock was never going to let him go to sleep at this rate.

  And was it fucking hot in here or what? He tossed the cover off, wishing he had a ceiling fan downstairs, too. Something for the to-do list around this place.

  Ike sighed and flung his hand over his head. And wondered why the hell he was torturing himself this way.

  He could just go up there and get in the bed—and take what he wanted, and what he knew Jess would be only too happy to give. Neither of them was immune to the mutual attraction that had always been there between them. And her reaction to his kiss the other day made it crystal fucking clear that she was waiting for him to make his move.

  Jess had plenty of one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Ike knew she was perfectly capable of handling that kind of relationship.

  Except.

  Except Ike wasn’t a clueless idiot, and he wasn’t in the habit of doing things he knew damn right well would hurt someone he cared about. Jess wore her emotions like she wore her ink—out loud and unapologetically. He had a pretty good idea that she was rocking some more-than-friendly and more-than-physical feelings for him. Right now, she thought them unrequited, and that kept a kind of sexually tense equilibrium between them. But if he let himself off the leash more than he already had—even just once—he’d very likely raise and dash her hopes, give her all kinds of mixed signals, and screw things up royally between them.

  He shook his head and heaved a deep breath. If he wasn’t going to go the distance with her, he had no business taking the first step.

  End of.

  * * * *

  Oh, fuck. He was dying.

  Pain throbbed in every joint and the bass beat of his pulse pounded against the inside of his skull. Dizzy and disoriented, he reached for the lamp—

  Thud. The floor body-slammed an agonized groan out of him. What the fuck just happened? Where was he? Why was it so goddamned hot? His face, his neck, his chest were all damp with sweat.

  “Ike, is that you?” came a soft voice. Somewhere above him, soft golden light glowed.

  “Jess,” he rasped, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

  “Oh, my God. Are you all right?” Footsteps raced down the stairs, and then Jess was kneeling on the floor beside where he still lay. Her hand fell on his shoulder, so cool against his skin. “Oh, no. I made you sick.”

  “I don’t get sick,” he said, and then he realized how ridiculous the proclamation was given that he was currently laid flat-out on the floor. “Not usually.”

  “Let me help you up,” she said, barely budging him.

  He shook her off. “S’okay. Get me drugs?”

  “Of course.” While she rushed toward the bathroom, Ike heaved himself back onto the sofa, the effort it took to move his ass like he’d just done an extreme weight-lifting workout. “Here you go,” Jess said as she settled next to him on the couch.

  He accepted four little red pills and a glass of water into his hands and choked them down. The water was both a blessing and a curse—the cold brought relief, but even just water against the back of his throat was torture.

  “Lay your head back,” Jess said.

  When he did, she draped a cold, wet washcloth over his head from eyebrows to bald crown. “Fuck,” he said.

  �
�I’m so sorry,” she said. She pressed a second cold cloth against the side of his neck.

  Ike groaned. “Don’t be. That helps.”

  “Good.” For a few minutes they sat in silence, Jess moving the rag over his neck, his face, his chest. Touching the one lying on his head, she said, “These are warm already. Let me wet them again.”

  He tried to nod, but the movement sent the room on a Tilt-A-Whirl. Ike wasn’t sure how long it took before the combination of the cold compresses and the Ibuprofen made him feel good enough to stretch out and doze off. What he did know was that every time he woke up, Jess was right there, sitting on the floor beside the couch, ready with more drugs or a soft, soothing touch.

  As the gray light of early morning streamed through the windows, Ike found her asleep with her head resting on her arms by his hip. Shit, she’d sat on the floor all night. For him.

  He pushed himself up onto an elbow. The walls stayed in place, which Ike took as a good sign. As he stood, Jess didn’t react to his movement at all. No doubt she was exhausted after mostly pulling an all-nighter right after being so sick herself. He had to get her off the floor.

  Curling his arms around her back and legs, he lifted. Annnnd the walls started spinning as the floor went wavy beneath his feet.

  “Ike?” Jess grabbed onto his arms, steadying him. How fucking pathetic was he? “Did you fall off the couch again?”

  “Was trying to put you back to bed,” he said, shifting to sit his weak ass down.

  Jess pushed herself up to sit next to him. “In case you didn’t get the memo, it’s my turn to take care of you right now.” Ike dropped his face into his hands on a groan, and Jess’s cool hand massaged his neck. “Oh, my God. You’re so hot.”

  He chuffed out a small laugh. “Why, thank you.”

  Jess chuckled. “You realize you don’t have to fish for compliments, right? Not from me. Because I will straight-up tell you that the sight of your Ravens tat stretched over all these muscles gives me a lady boner.” Her fingers traced the design across his shoulder blades—a spread-winged raven perched on the hilt of a dagger sunk into the eye socket of a skull. The block letters of the club’s name arched over the menacing black bird.