Protective Ink (Urban Fantasy) (7 page)

“I can’t…” The words were swallowed when he kissed her, his mouth diving into the kiss as if he were hanging on by a thread and the last strand had snapped. His hands cradled the back of her head and his body engulfed her. She hung on to his biceps for dear life as she was kissed like she’d never been kissed before. His tongue tangled with hers, stroking and demanding that she answer in kind. And then it was over and they both took a step back, breathing heavily.

“Well, shit.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” The teakettle whistled in the silence. “Tea? We need a battle plan, and I need tea to think.”

He snorted. “I’d prefer something a little stronger.”

“Well, you’re not going to get it in my kitchen. Head into the living room and I’ll be right there. Two sugars and enough cream to turn a brunette into a blonde, right?’

He gave her a sharp nod then thudded out to the next room.

She took a second to lean back against the counter where she’d found him and rubbed her upper arms. He’d just rocked her entire world. Thinking about that was not going to help her sort out this mess for Garrett. She and Jackson had always had their separate but equal roles in Garrett’s superhero-dom—she inked Garrett’s tattoos and Jackson helped protect him from the cops. After they sorted this out, they’d have to go back to the way things had always been.…

She’d make sure of it. Because she knew one thing: Jackson would break her heart if she let him.

* * *

For fuck’s sake! What had he just done?

Jackson was too pissed at himself to be worried about Lissa’s reaction just yet. It was one thing to think about her luscious hair and another to actually sink his hands into it. It was fine to think about those full, kissable lips, but to actually plant one on her? God, he needed a drink and not some crappy tea. There was no way he was going to be happy with the fantasies he’d spun after finally getting a delicious taste of the real thing. Well, shit, indeed.

He’d been Garrett’s protector for years. These attacks on him must have shaken Jackson to the soles of his size-twelve boots if he’d actually played tonsil hockey with one of his oldest friends. He was not a good bet for a relationship, and she deserved so much more than him. Not to mention that he’d never wanted to mess up the bonds they had with each other and the circle they had formed with Garrett. Well, that had just gone down the shitter.

He wanted to kick something, but the damn room was too well put together for him to consider ruining a single thing in here. If Lissa wasn’t already pissed at him for that lip-lock, having her come out to a destroyed couch would send her over the edge for sure.

He’d just focus on Garrett and his dilemma and pretend the kitchen scene had never ever happened. It might haunt his dreams tonight and for many nights to come, but for now he’d do his damnedest to put it out of his mind.

The living room in this apartment was too small. Jackson needed more than five steps from one window to another to effectively pace. Instead he was stuck in a room full of plush, velvety couches and a chair upholstered in some kind of brocade fabric. It was feminine but with an edge that suited Lissa down to the ground. Yeah, that wasn’t helping, either.

Cracking his knuckles, he shoved the thought back into the steel box he’d constructed in his mind.

He was here for Garrett. Garrett, who might be in more danger than he’d ever been before. Only last month the premier drug boss in the area—Morgan Sellers—had tried to kill Garrett. She’d died instead, creating this void that others were trying so hard to fill.

Jackson shook his head. None of that had any bearing on why he was here now. Here, where he might never be able to visit again, since he’d just felt something he shouldn’t and wanted to run from it like a dog with his tail between his legs. Not that he’d ever willingly admit that to anyone.

Finally, Lissa came through the doorway with the wretched tea he hated to drink. If nothing else, he was grateful for the distraction from his thoughts.

“You can sit down, you know.” She placed the tea tray on her leather-topped coffee table, bending at the waist and giving him a view of her backside that should not have sent him into another tailspin.

Tearing his eyes away from her lush figure, he stared at the wall and one of the stark black-and-white photographs she’d taken. Garrett had a few of them hanging in his apartment, too. They were haunting and beautiful. Like the woman who’d taken them.

“I can’t sit. Too much going on in my head.”

“Fine, I’ll sit then.” And she did, folding herself into that brocade chair with one leg tucked up under her, the other keeping time with short kicks as she sipped her tea, her eyes watching him over the rim of her dainty china cup.

The desire to lay his head in her lap, have those long fingers stroke over his short military cut, socked him in the gut. One kiss should not have done this to him. He was a war survivor, for Christ’s sake, not some hormonal teenager.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blew out a breath. He was good at giving orders, but he’d never been good at taking them. It had caused some issues during his stint in the Marines, but it had also propelled him to the highest rank he could achieve without a college degree.

“So we need to find out who’s after Garrett.”

“Yes, I believe you do. But we might want to also talk about what just happened ten feet from here.” She blew across the top of the hot liquid, sending curls of steam billowing toward him and making his abdomen tighten. Jesus.

He cleared his throat and massaged the back of his head. “Can’t we just attribute it to the urgency of the moment and move on?”

“Is that what you want?” She looked calm and collected, but she’d always had a good poker face. If he said yes, she might agree with him…or she might be perverse and needle him just because she could.

He decided to go with the truth. Or at least, what his over-stressed brain believed to be the truth. “Yes. It was a moment. I’m sorry it happened, and it won’t be repeated. We have more important things to do.”

“Fine.” Annoyance seemed to simmer beneath the word, but he decided to take her at her word and move on. The alternative was not something he felt capable of exploring.

“So who would want to hurt Garrett?” he asked.

“I honestly have no idea. He has enemies, I’m sure, but who would have the kind of power to really take him out? Then again, maybe they don’t.… Maybe they just want to see what he can take.”

“Well, shit. How do they even know he’s worth taking?”

“Come on, Jackson.” The tempo of her swinging foot escalated, like a metronome about to go off the scale. “It’s not like our boy is completely quiet about what he does. Yeah, we don’t know of anyone getting a recognizable photograph of him in the act, but he doesn’t wear a mask and he doesn’t have a convenient pair of glasses to pull off a daytime disguise. Maybe one of the former drug lord’s goonies got away and is trying to get some revenge.”

It was a logical assumption, but he knew for certain no one had walked away from that scene. Every one of that woman’s henchmen was either dead or in prison. “The catching him but not keeping him thing bothers me. If they wanted to take him out, why didn’t they do it then? And I keep thinking about those track marks on his arms.… It was like someone was bleeding him. Do you think someone wants to tap into his abilities?”

She took another sip of her tea, and his eyes flicked to the coffee table where his cup sat untouched. He didn’t want to get too close to her, and he didn’t want the tea, anyway.

“I have no idea. They’re going about it the wrong way, if that’s what they’re after. Maybe a new player is in the arena. Someone who can do what I do, but not as well. It could even be someone who knows just enough to want more knowledge. I can’t tell you what everyone’s agenda is. It’s not the type of thing you talk about at the monthly Chamber of Commerce meeting. Remember, Garrett got some press with that Morgan chick. There’s no telling if someone knows more than they should.”

“Well, shit.”

“You’ve already said that. It’s not attractive to repeat yourself.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to go to hell, but the easy camaraderie they’d shared for years was strained after that damn—fantastic—kiss.

“Let’s get down to business.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he widened his stance.

“Yes, let’s.” The words purred out of her mouth. There was no other way to describe it. The tightness in his abdomen moved south.

This was going to be a long night. Well, shit.

Chapter Six

It was night again and Jackson was no closer to figuring out who was after Garrett. He’d stayed with Lissa for almost two hours the previous night, the two of them combing over the guest list for her soiree. They’d come up with nothing. And now, though Garrett was still recovering from whatever bad juju had come his way, he’d insisted on going out tonight as bait to flush out the person or persons who were after him. Dory had done her best to dissuade him, but he was having none of it.

So Garrett was stalking the street in jeans and a leather jacket, weapons forged from his tattoos tucked into every available pocket and the tops of his boots, just waiting for someone to look at him the wrong way. Jackson was ghosting along behind him, thinking hard about being invisible and hoping it worked. He’d told Garrett he would follow him from a distance, staying out of sight. He hadn’t mentioned his dubious powers and might not until this whole mess was over. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the new situation himself and couldn’t see himself confiding about it in anyone other than Lissa.

Garrett turned the corner into the alley behind the house where Jackson had found him hanging in the bathroom. Noise exploded from the narrow space a heartbeat before Garrett was blown backward out of the alley, falling into a bleeding heap in the street.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Jackson concentrated hard on not being detected as he double-timed it toward the alley. Three men stood shoulder to shoulder with some kind of handheld cannon, cackling to themselves. Thank God Dory had convinced Garrett to wear a full chest shield before heading out tonight. A quick glance assured Jackson the majority of the blood was coming from a small cut on Garrett’s head. It began sealing itself with a thin line of dark from a tattoo on his neck, so Jackson averted his attention to his friends’ attackers.

These fuckers were in for the surprise of their lives.

Completely invisible, he went to work like he was in the trenches. He didn’t make any killing strikes with his knife, but he made good and sure that the men wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The third man was spooked and then some by the time Jackson got to him.

“Show yourself, you fucker!” he screamed.

Jackson kept absolutely still and silent as the guy dropped the hand cannon, pulled out a gun and started firing it into the air every which way he could. Jackson waited until the clicking of an empty chamber echoed in the small space before he got right in the guy’s face. “You have another weapon you want to try that with?” he said in the deepest, most menacing voice he could muster.

He grabbed the back of the guy’s shirt in one hand and landed a punch right to his kidneys with the other. Though the hit had him down for the count, Jackson put in another one for good measure.

A sudden noise caused Jackson to jerk up his head. Someone dashed into the alley from a dark doorway then swung a left around the corner. The guy was tall, but not that tall, and had on a coat that covered him to his knees. A dull red scarf flapped over his shoulder and his light-colored hair glinted in the glow from the street lamps.

Was it someone running to avoid getting caught up in the drama, or perhaps the ringleader, who’d decided to leave his men to their fate and come back another day? The urge to tackle him for information was nearly overwhelming, but Garrett was groaning the street, and the three stooges on the ground wouldn’t remain there forever. Taking zip ties out of his back pocket, he trussed up the first and went for the second.

Before he could get to him, the second man popped up off the ground and caught Jackson in the nose with a swing of his fist. He staggered back and crashed into the wall behind him as pain exploded in his head. The fizzy feeling in his blood, which he’d come to associate with invisibility, evaporated, leaving him exposed to the man who’d struck him. The other guy roared as Jackson desperately tried to turn his power back on. It didn’t work and he was forced to go hand to hand with his attacker.

He punched and circled, kicked out and doubled back. The guy was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked. It wasn’t until Garrett tapped the back of the man’s skull with a black-as-sin hammer that Jackson was able to lean back against the wall and breathe.

“Shit,” he said between heaving breaths, cradling his injured wrist against his abdomen.

“Fuck,” Garrett answered. “Who the hell am I going to call to clean up after the two of us this time?”

* * *

Lissa walked up to her apartment above the shop and nudged the door open with her hip, her hands full of Chinese takeout and a six-pack of beer. She deserved something to ease her nerves after the worry she’d carried around all day. If she’d been certain a buzzing phone wouldn’t get Jackson into trouble, she would have called to check up on him and Garrett. But she knew it was better for her not to risk distracting him.

He did a complicated dance to keep their boy safe. She had no intention of messing that up.

He wasn’t in her kitchen this time. He was on her couch, all six foot plus of him sprawled out, his eyes closed. A shiver went through her body, nearly making her stumble.

Why the hell did he have to invade her space like this? After what they’d shared the other night, it was really too much.…

But they had to join forces to keep Garrett safe, and that meant there would be much more together time over the next several days. She would just have to get used to it, even though she really wished he would learn to use the phone again. Life had been simpler when she’d been able to block out how being close to him made her feel.