Hard As Steel: A Hard Ink/Raven Riders Crossover (1001 Dark Nights) (7 page)

Ike woke up his phone to see that it was nearly three in the morning.

Another moan, so high-pitched and needful it was almost a whimper.

He crossed to the bed and pressed his hand to Jess’s forehead. If he’d thought she felt hot earlier, it was nothing compared to now. Jesus, she was uncomfortable to touch.

“Jess, wake up. Time for more medicine,” he said.

Bleary, unfocused eyes struggled to look up at him, and then fell closed again.

“Jess.” He shook her gently by the shoulders, but all that got him was another agonized groan. “Fuck,” he bit out. He had to get this fever down. He rarely got sick, so he didn’t have a thermometer there to see just how high her temperature was. And, damn it all to hell, the situation they were in would make taking her to a clinic or emergency room risky anyway. A few weeks before, someone had nearly abducted Nick’s girlfriend from an ER in Baltimore, and the Hard Ink team had been avoiding them ever since. Granted, he and Jess were outside the city now, but hospital admissions created digital records and paper trails that those with the right capabilities—and questionable ethics—could follow if they were motivated enough. And these mercenary sonsabitches clearly were just that.

Which meant Ike needed another plan.

In a flash, he ran downstairs to the bathroom. He ripped the shower curtain open and knocked Jess’s clothes out of the way, and then he turned on the cold water. Christ, given how hot her skin had felt, he worried the water might be
too
cold, so he made it just shy of lukewarm and hoped that would do the job.

Back upstairs, he pulled back the covers and scooped Jess off the bed. She moaned and turned into him, her face burrowing against his chest. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he said. Though the sheer heat soaking into him everywhere they touched was picking at those never-healed places inside him from the last time he’d made a similar promise to a woman he cared about—and failed.

The tub was about halfway filled when he got back downstairs. Gently, he lowered Jess into the water.

Her whole body seized on contact. Groggy eyes flew open and her hands flailed and splashed water over both of them. Formless words spilled out of her.

“Hey, it’s okay. We gotta get this fever down. I know it’s cold but it won’t be long,” he said, his hand stroking cool water over her forehead.

“Ike,” she whimpered, a tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Wha’s hap’ning?”

“Sshh, don’t you worry. We’re gonna get you feeling better. Okay?” God, he hoped this worked.

“So cold,” she said, her teeth chattering. Goosebumps broke out across her flushed skin.

“I know,” he said, reaching behind him for the towel she’d used earlier. He submerged it into the water and then covered her with it, both to bring the coolness up onto the parts of her skin not yet under water and to give her a little privacy. He scooped handfuls of water onto her shoulders, her throat, her face. He wet her hair. He rubbed her arms when she shuddered so hard he worried she’d hurt herself.

Shit. If this didn’t work, he wasn’t going to have a choice about getting help. But he couldn’t let himself go there yet. He’d cross that bridge if and when he had to.

After about fifteen minutes, Jess was shivering nonstop, but her eyes looked at him with more clarity and awareness. “I’m really cold, Ike,” she said. “I think it worked.”

He pressed his hand to her forehead. Better, but still warmer than normal. “Can you stand it a few more minutes?”

Her shoulders sagged. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, his brain not well filtering the words coming out of his mouth. Obviously.

But then Jess smiled at him. Just a little bit. And the fact that he could do something to make her feel even the smallest amount of happiness or pleasure in the midst of her illness chased away whatever regret he might’ve felt.

Jesus, he could be a sap. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s get some more Ibuprofen in you and then I’ll get you back to bed.”

She nodded.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink.

She smirked and rolled her eyes.

There
was his girl, sass still alive and well. Thank God.

He returned quickly with the meds and she downed them with a whole lot of water. He let her nurse as much of it as she wanted. Last thing she needed was to get dehydrated on top of the fever, which seemed like a real possibility given how bad it was.

“Ready?” Ike asked, hitting the lever to drain the tub.

“Yes, please,” she said, her voice weak.

Ike tossed his damp T-shirt onto the bathroom counter and pulled a few towels from the cabinet under the sink.

When he turned back around, Jess blatantly stared at his chest and waggled her eyebrows. It made him chuckle. Even sick, she was still flirting and busting his balls.

He held up a dry towel longways, blocking his view of her. “All right. Kick off the wet towel and I’ll cover you with the dry one.”

Jess chuffed out a small laugh. “You carried me down here, right?”

“Uh huh,” he said, already knowing where she was going with the question.

“So, you’ve already ogled all the goods.”

He’d tried not to, he really had. Besides, for once, sex had been the last thing on his mind when he’d felt how much her fever had spiked. “I kept the ogling to a bare minimum. I promise. Now would you let me switch out the damn towels already?”

She pulled the cloth out of his hands and covered herself, the wet towel balled between her feet in the now-empty tub. “All the naughty bits are covered. Better?”

Ike gave her a droll stare, but he couldn’t deny feeling some major relief that the cool soak had brought back the old Jess. He handed her another towel. “For your hair.”

She squeezed it out as best she could. “I’m so tired,” she said.

“That’s good. Sleep is probably the best thing for you. Ready?” He threw another towel over his shoulder. When she nodded, he gently slipped his arms beneath her knees and around her back and lifted her from the tub. God, she was a little slip of a thing in his arms, even with all her curves, and he fucking loved the feel of the bare skin of her side against his abs.

Even awake and aware, she curled her face against his chest. She pressed a kiss above his heart. “Thanks, Ike. Sorry I’m always such a pain in the ass.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, carrying her back up the stairs. “You’re not a pain in the ass.”

An expression flitted over her face, one that said she didn’t believe him.

He hated that she thought for even a second that he minded taking care of her. “I mean it, Jess. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than where I am. Right here, with you.”

* * * *

The good news was that her fever seemed to have broken, but now Jess was absolutely freezing and, no matter how many covers Ike added to the bed, she couldn’t get warm.

“Any better?” Ike asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Jess peered up at him. “A little.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re still cold, aren’t you?”

She shivered and pulled the cover tighter around her shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Ike scrubbed a hand over his bald head and mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out. “Maybe I shouldn’t have put you in the tub after all.”

“I think it was the right thing, Ike. I was so out of it. It
is
better than it was before.” She worked at a small smile. No matter how bad she felt, the last thing she wanted was to make him feel bad given everything he was doing for her. As if he hadn’t already gone out of his way in giving her a place of refuge and his personal protection for as long as she needed it, now he had to play freaking nursemaid to a sicky. Which, on top of everything, was super attractive.

The only upside to that ice-cold bath was that Ike had gotten wet and tossed his shirt, and Jess thought she might be willing to be sick more often if it meant getting to see him shirtless. Because, holy bad-ass tattooed biker on a stick, he was so freaking hot. Cut muscles, ink everywhere, two insanely delicious indents low on his waist. And scars Jess had no idea how Ike had gotten.

All that goodness and Jess couldn’t even see the big Ravens tat that she knew covered Ike’s broad back. But she’d seen it before, back at Hard Ink when Jeremy occasionally did a new piece for Ike. She’d seen it enough to know that she’d love to have a good reason to dig her fingers into that tat…

Oh, for fuck’s sake, even sick she couldn’t stop fantasizing about what it would be like to be with Ike. Just once.

“Jess?”

Her gaze snapped to his eyes. “Huh?” Hopefully the warmth crawling up her cheeks would pass for a fevered flush. Because she was so busted.

“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.”