Thirds: Inked 2

by SE Jakes

  "Don't let him win, Brogan. Don't let him take another person from me. Not fucking fair." Aleks kissed the side of Brogan's neck. "I love you, Brogan. You need to pull out of this so I can tell you, face to face. Please."

  The nurses let him stay with Brogan longer than they should've—Aleks knew that but it still wasn't long enough.

  "We've got to take some blood and change out tubing. Then you can come back in," a young nurse promised him, her eyes serious and kind.

  Aleks reluctantly let go of Brogan and walked into the hallway and into the small waiting area where Con, Quinn and Vann had camped out. All he said was, "Same," and Con and Quinn stood.

  "We'll grab you guys something to eat," Quinn told him.

  "He's strong. He'll come through just fine," Con added.

  Vann just sat there on the couch and patted at the open space next to him. Aleks curled against him, the way they would when forced to share a cage. Nothing sexual, all comfort. And time began to pass in a blur. In between sleeping and reports from the doctors and being given food and drink and being allowed to visit Brogan—and being vaguely aware of an older woman he semi-recognized coming in to talk to the other guys while he dozed off from stress and exhaustion—the sun began to come up. And finally, the doctor woke him up by saying, "Brogan's awake—and he's asking for you."

  Aleks entered, slightly hesitantly until he saw that Brogan's eyes were indeed open and looking at him. He walked right up to the bed and took Brogan's hand. "How're you feeling?"

  "Like shit." Brogan's voice was rough and scratchy from the tube that had been down his throat. "But I'm okay. What about you?"

  "I'm fine," he said automatically.

  "We'll talk about that." Brogan smiled a little.

  "Really, I'm okay. Con and Quinn are here. Vann too," Aleks told him.

  "I want to see him." Brogan's eyes meant business. Aleks went out and motioned him inside, and none of the nurses seemed inclined to argue with the big man in the leather MC rocker.

  Vann walked to the bed and after Aleks introduced them, Brogan said, "Thank you." Vann frowned and Brogan continued, "Thank you for pulling him out of the fire so I could find him again."

  Aleks stared up at the ceiling, feeling his eyes well up and goddammit it, he did not bond. But he had, and it was too late to attempt to deny it. He put a hand on Brogan's.

  "He saved me as much as I did him," Vann said gruffly.

  "I'm sorry you both went through that. I'm sorry my family was a part of it. I'll make it up to Aleks."

  "I know you will. Just be good to him. You were a victim too." Vann's voice rumbled through the room and the men shared a handshake before Vann hugged Aleks and said, "I'm going to head back. Keep me updated. And remember you're coming to meet Emme. Bring Brogan."

  "I will," Aleks promised.

  He turned back to Brogan, who moved over as best he could so Aleks could shove up next to him.

  "I like these rings." Brogan traced them along Aleks's right pec, the same way he had so many times before. Brogan had honed in on them early on, although he’d never asked about them specifically. Aleks wasn’t sure what he’d have said if Brogan had asked.

  "Yeah, me too."

  "It's a symbol of a Russian wedding ring. Past. Present. Future," Brogan whispered.

  Aleks stared at him, surprised. "You've been researching Russian wedding rings."

  "Russian traditions. But the rose gold ring's missing. Rose gold is the future."

  It was missing—not filled in, just barely outlined, like the ghost of a future Aleks never thought he'd have. He bit his bottom lip and finally said, "For a long time, it was just past and present. The future was on hold."

  "And now?"

  "Now he's here." Aleks squeezed his hand. "So don't fucking die on me, okay?"

  "Okay," Brogan breathed. "I think I might like one of those."

  "A wedding ring?"

  "One of those tattoos," Brogan said. "But I'd consider the actual ring too. Past. Present. Future. All precious. And we'll survive all of it."

  "That we will," Aleks told him fiercely. Then he lay his head down on Brogan's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, too full of emotion to talk anymore.

  But Brogan had other plans. "I love you too, Aleks."

  Aleks blinked but didn't look up. Because Brogan had said 'too.' That meant… "You heard me?"

  "Yes."

  Aleks felt Brogan's hand in his hair. "Good."

  Things improved with Brogan quickly after that, although the doctors kept him in bed with various IVs and other monitors. Aleks wouldn't leave his side except to go to Brogan's to grab him clothes and grab himself a quick shower.

  As Aleks returned and rounded the corner to Brogan's hospital room, he saw the older woman he remembered from the waiting room. It was Brogan's aunt and another older man, armed with a briefcase, coming out. Aleks wasn't sure Brogan's aunt knew who he was, but she was already walking in his direction.

  He was prepared for anything—a cold shoulder, a sharp remark—but he got a small smile and a soft, "Are you Aleks?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he said automatically.

  She held her hand out. "I'm Brogan's Aunt Margaret. I'd like to thank you for saving him. My sister…" She put her hand on her chest and took a breath. "All I wanted to do was take care of him. He's so much like her."

  "He's a good man."

  "And so are you," she said firmly. "Everything is taken care of. I'm so sorry. If I'd known…"

  "It's okay. But thank you."

  She gazed at him. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you further, Aleks."

  "Same."

  She nodded and then she and the tall, suited man walked on.

  Aleks went into Brogan's room and found him sitting up, staring out the window. He brightened immediately upon seeing Aleks. "Hey. I'm thinking about sneaking out—want to help?"

  "Nice try. But I'll stay here with you."

  Brogan nodded. "That'll do."

  "I, ah, just met your aunt."

  "Yeah, she and her lawyer came by to talk to me," Brogan affirmed. "Without my uncle."

  Aleks sat on the end of Brogan's bed. "Did you…?"

  "They know now. They didn't before yesterday," Brogan said shortly. "And my uncle? He knew the entire goddamned time."

  Aleks went cold inside. "Brogan—"

  Brogan shook his head hard. "Don't. It's okay. My aunt is leaving my uncle. She's not perfect herself but she's not like them. My uncle's resigning his position. It's not going to take his fortune away but he won't have control anymore."

  "And you? Because you didn't want this."

  Brogan stared at him. "But it's mine. My responsibility. And it's time I started using the money to make up for what Harry and my uncle did. It might be too late but—"

  "It's never too late," Aleks told him quietly. "It took me a long time to get here, but I know that's true now.”

  Epilogue

  Brogan had been released after ten days. Aleks had moved into his place to help Brogan, who was supposed to limit his activities until all his blood tests came back clean from the long-acting drugs.

  He'd moved in, and never moved out.

  "I’d thought about buying my own place, but I found a sugar daddy instead," Aleks told him with a smirk and a shrug.

  Brogan just rolled his eyes and said, "You've definitely been hanging out with Con too much."

  Now, Brogan was sprawled out, half naked, under him. On Aleks's tattoo table in the middle of Inked.

  "First tattoo's a big deal," Aleks murmured as he held the gun, ready to freehand the rings on Brogan's skin. His own ring tattoo had been finished last night by Quinn as Brogan watched, and now Brogan glanced at the healing tattoo and then Aleks's eyes.

  "First and only."

  "That's what they all say," Aleks said.

  Brogan smiled and touched Aleks's hand. "I mean it."

  Aleks smiled back. "I know you do."

  Out Now: HOLD THE LINE<
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  Inked #1

  Catch up on HOLD THE LINE:

  Book 1 in the Inked Series, on sale now!

  Holding on loosely has never been such a challenge…

  What happens when a tattoo artist and a Delta Force soldier keep a promise and take a cross-country trip together? Quinn and Con are about to finally meet and find out.

  Quinn thinks he's the responsible one, but he quickly learns that he needs to loosen up if he's got any shot of holding onto Con.

  (This novella is now available as a standalone, but was previously published in the Danger Zone Anthology, with all proceeds going to Hope For the Warrior.)

  BOUND BY HONOR

  Men of Honor #1

  Don’t miss the Men of Honor!

  BOUND BY HONOR:

  Book 1 in the Men of Honor Series, on sale now!

  A promise forces two men to bare themselves…completely.

  One year ago on a mission gone wrong, Tanner James failed to save the life of Jesse, his Army Ranger teammate. Before dying in that South American jungle, Jesse extracted a promise that won’t let Tanner rest until it’s fulfilled—no matter what it costs him.

  Damon Price loved Jesse, but problems in their relationship had come to a head right before Jesse left on his final mission. Now a reluctant Dom and a man still in mourning, he’s not happy when Tanner appears at his BDSM club. And even less happy with Jesse’s last request—that Tanner sub for him for one night.

  After a rough start, Damon realizes that the tough soldier, despite his protests, aches for someone to take control. And Tanner senses a hesitance, an insecurity in Damon that makes him wonder if he’s simply a placeholder for Jesse, or if their tentative connection could grow into something more.

  For Jesse’s sake, they agree to try one weekend together. Then duty calls, and a series of attacks that have been happening near the club hits too close to home, making both men wonder if giving their hearts is a maneuver fraught with too much risk…

  Warning: Contains rough language, rougher sex and warriors who fall hard for each other.

  Chapter One from Bound By Honor:

  Tanner James had been to hell and back more times than he could count over the course of his twenty- six years and was always pretty sure he’d live to make the trip again. But this time, even as adrenaline raced through his body and every muscle tensed for battle, hell beckoned with a one-way ticket and without a goddamned firefight in sight.

  No, that would’ve been easier, much easier than this slow crawl to the door of Crave—a BDSM club with the reputation of being both accessible and safe—the week before Christmas.

  He looked up at the dark sign with white lettering at the entrance and thought about turning back and going home.

  If he hadn’t promised Jesse that he’d do this, that he’d look up Jesse’s former boyfriend, he’d be home right now, having just returned from a month-long mission, not about to offer himself up like some bondage sacrifice.

  This wasn’t his scene. Not really. He was all about rough sex, was bisexual with a definite preference to men for as long as he could remember, used to having to don’t ask, don’t tell, thanks to his military career—but this? Having to go in and greet the owner with a message from his dead lover? Well, that was fucking weird and could get him thrown out on his ass.

  Jesus Christ, this was going to suck.

  The man checking patrons who entered was dressed in bright, loud colors. Tight black leather pants. Guyliner. And he flirted in an over-the-top manner with anyone he deemed hot enough.

  Tanner knew he’d be the subject of the man’s flirtation. Although he’d shrugged it off his entire life, the looks and stares and come-ons he’d been on the receiving end of forever told him he was handsome.

  He was more interested in being the best Army Ranger he could, spent most days knee-deep in jungle crap with paint on his face and men who only cared that he could shoot an M-14 with dizzying accuracy.

  “Hey.”

  “Hello, gorgeous. Please tell me you’re alone.” The man peeked behind Tanner, saw no one and clapped his hands. “Alone. There is a God.”

  “I’m looking for Damon Price.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Shame, really, that they all want what they can’t have.”

  “I just need to talk to him.”

  The man erupted into peals of girlish laughter and Tanner rolled his eyes. He’d never been into queens and this was why. If he was going to fuck a man, he was going to fuck a man. “Tell him I’ve got a message from Jesse.”

  The man stopped, nearly choked, but before he could answer, he was elbowed out of the way by a much taller blond man—ruggedly handsome although unsmiling, and Tanner wondered if he was face to face with Damon himself.

  But rather than introduce himself, he asked, “What did you say about Jesse?”

  “You heard me,” Tanner bit out.

  The man nodded slowly. “I heard you. I just don’t know how Damon’s going to feel about this.” He paused. “Are you sure you want to go there?”

  Tanner reacted before he could stop himself. “Why the fuck would you care where I want to go?”

  The man raised a brow and held up a finger, indicating for Tanner to wait a minute, before disappearing down a back hallway.

  Last chance to head for the hills. And despite the ease with which he could do so, Tanner remained rooted in place.

  He couldn’t see very far into the club at all from where he stood—it was designed purposely to let the incoming patrons hear the familiar sounds of sex occasionally rising over the music. The smell of sex was also unmistakable, partially hidden and mixed with whiskey and smoke. It was meant to beckon, to lead men astray…and Tanner didn’t bother to hide his hard-on.

  A few minutes later, Tanner was being led by the blond man who introduced himself as LC back to a private office with a big Do Not Disturb sign on the door.

  No doubt, this counted as disturbing Damon, but it had been eating away at Tanner for a year now. He had to rid himself of this burden, do what Jesse asked and then go home and pretend none of it ever happened.

  Before going in, he glanced at his watch. Just after midnight. Exactly the way Jesse had wanted it.

  A hard growl of a voice called, “Come in.”

  LC stared at him, and Tanner, in turn, stared at the floor for a long moment. And then he opened the door and realized he’d been anything but prepared for Damon Price. Tanner was big and broad and strong, stood six foot three and turned heads wherever he went. But Damon—he was well over six foot five, with jet black hair and chiseled features. He stood, hands at his sides in a deceptively casual stance, dressed in full black leather and looking like a fucking badass.

  Tanner nearly hyperventilated, because Jesse hadn’t mentioned this part.

  “He’s my boyfriend and he owns a club,” was all Jesse said. “He’s strong—reminds me of you. He’s a Dom.”

  “I’m not a Dom.”

  “No. But you could probably use one. It would be the only kind of man who could handle you.”

  Jesse had closed his eyes then before Tanner could tell him he had no interest in being anyone’s bottom boy. Because Jesse had been talking to him about boyfriends and Doms when he’d been dying, slowly and painfully in the middle of a jungle in South America where he and his Ranger team had been on a mission, and Tanner had been fucking helpless to stop it.

  Fuck.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets so Damon wouldn’t see the fists he couldn’t uncurl and hoped the pain didn’t show in his eyes.

  This was supposed to bring closure—to both Damon and Tanner. There was no way to break a promise to a dead man.

  Damon studied him for a few minutes. Tanner wasn’t the type to squirm and he wasn’t about to start now. Finally, the man said, “I hear you have a message from Jesse. And I swear to Christ, if you’re fucking with me, I’ll put your head through the wall.”

  Tanner sn
orted in spite of himself. “Okay, sure. I’d like to see you try.”

  Damon pushed away from the desk and stood toe-to-toe with him. “Talk.”

  Talk. Yeah, like it was that easy. “Jesse told me to come here—to ask for you. To tell you that…” Fuck. He shifted, aware that the proximity of Damon was freaking him out. If he hadn’t been Jesse’s, Tanner might’ve made a move without a second thought.

  As if he knew what he was thinking, Damon arched an eyebrow at him, his lip curled into a half sneer.

  Fuck it all. “I’m supposed to tell you to have a session with me. Jesse wanted it that way.” “A session?” Damon repeated.

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to let you Dom me. It was Jesse’s dying wish.”

  Damon paled, took a step back from Tanner, and then another. “Is this a sick joke?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “You little fuck.” Damon had Tanner’s shirt bunched in his fists, was slamming him against the office wall hard. “You sick bastard. You think you can ingratiate yourself to me by using Jesse?”

  Tanner ground his teeth together hard and tamped back his anger. He’d known Damon wouldn’t take this well. If Tanner had been in the same position, he doubted he would either. “He asked me to wait a year before I came here. He died after midnight.”

  “How do you know that?” Damon demanded. “Even I don’t know that.”

  No, he wouldn’t. The mission was deemed classified—and Jesse’s time of death a closely guarded secret. “I was with him when he died.”

  Damon let out a long, hissing breath and let go of Tanner’s shirt.

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to tell you. Jesse made me promise—”

  “Stop saying his name,” Damon growled hoarsely.

  “He made me promise I’d wait the year. Said you wouldn’t be ready before that. That you’d need to be dragged back into the land of the living, kicking and screaming. He said to tell you…to use the skull- and-crossbones collar with the broken latch.” He spoke fast, stopped to catch his breath at the end. Gauged Damon’s reaction.