“Thank you,” she said, as she leaned in closer to the canvas of his skin. “This is amazing. It must have taken a long time to complete.”
“A few months.”
The detail of the piece was just as amazing as she’d hoped. She reached out with one of her fingertips and traced the line of one of the intricate flower and frond swirls that decorated the shoulder cap. It was just like she remembered.
Verity followed the piece around to his back, crawling around on the bed as she went. And she was glad that she did. The backside of the work was just as amazing as the front. He even had the harness straps that ran around the middle of his ribcage.
And the shading—it was phenomenal. Everything was so well done that, if it weren’t for the warm feel of Jake’s taut skin under her fingers, she would be tempted to believe that it was the real thing.
“You know, I saw real pauldrons like this back when I was in college. I thought they were gorgeous then, but this is exquisite. So much more alive,” Verity said. “What made you want to get it?”
Jake cleared his throat. The line of his shoulders stiffened as she came around to his other side.
“Same,” he said shortly. “Saw it. Liked it.”
“Come on,” she said with a laugh. “There has to be more to the story than that. You didn’t sit through countless hours of a needle poking into your skin on a lark.”
A second later, Verity ran out of mattress to crawl on. She lowered herself down onto the carpet to get a close up look at the finely crafted image of the archangel Michael with his sword held high that emblazoned the front.
Jake’s chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath, and Verity’s eye was caught by how the artwork moved with him. She spread her fingers out over the chest plate as it slowly fell back into place.
“I came across a similar piece of armor back when I was stationed in Europe, and I kind of fell in love with it,” he said. “It was light and strong. Made for real battle, but still someone took the time and effort to make it beautiful. I felt a connection to what it symbolized.”
“Which is?” Verity asked, looking up into his eyes. They were dark with an emotion she had a hard time putting her finger on.
“What it means to be a warrior living in a civilized world.”
Well, that sounded interesting. She cocked her head to the side.
“Please. Tell me more,” she said, lifting herself up a few inches higher on her knees.
Jake’s mouth went hard and flat for a moment, as if he were deciding how much to tell her, but his gaze never left hers. Eventually, Verity could tell that he’d decided to share, because his lips parted and he drew in a long, slow breath.
“War…combat…it changes you. There’s no way around that,” he said, his voice soft but even. “It has a way of stripping you bare, of forcing you to confront what lies behind all your carefully constructed masks.”
“And what did you discover about yourself?” Verity asked, honestly intrigued.
“Many things,” he said cryptically. “Most importantly, I believed in what I was doing. That I felt a calling inside me to keep innocent people, to keep my country, safe. But that didn’t make what I had to do any easier. To this day, I carry the weight of every decision, every action, every drop of blood around with me. Over time, that weight became a burden, one that threatened to drag me down to the ground.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Then, one day my team and I found ourselves in this Italian castle, and I saw this old piece of armor hanging on a mannequin. At first, I didn’t understand why someone had taken the time to make it so beautiful. A battlefield is a terrible place for a work of art. But then I realized that the armor wasn’t just meant to protect his body.”
“It was also intended to protect his soul,” Verity whispered as she slowly came to the same conclusion. Her hand stilled over his breastbone. “Of course. All that beautiful scroll work, it’s not just meant to remind him of what he’s fighting for, but who he is. To protect him from succumbing to the barbarism that he fights against.”
“Exactly.” Jake’s brows lifted as he gave a single nod. It was almost as if he hadn’t expected her to understand.
And until this moment, she never had. When she’d studied that armor back in school, she’d viewed the pieces through the eyes of an art student, not bothering to see past the medieval ornaments and patterns. Never once thinking of the living, breathing men that had worn them all those years ago.
Men like Jake who fought to guard and protect all that they held dear—their countrymen, their families…their lovers.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and she snaked the tip of her tongue out to wet her lips.
“See,” she said, her voice breathy. “I told you there was a better story.”
Jake stared down at her for another few heartbeats, before his eyes narrowed slightly.
“What are we doing, Verity?”
She blinked and opened her mouth, but at first nothing came out.
“T-talking about your tattoo,” she managed to finally say.
He lifted his hand and slowly curled his fingers around her wrist, but didn’t pull it away.
“No. I mean what are we really doing?” His voice was so low that even this close she could barely make out his words.
For the first time, Verity looked down at her hand—really looked at it. Her fingers weren’t splayed across a piece of armor. Her fingertips hadn’t been caressing a lifeless mannequin. And there was no pretending that deep down she didn’t know that.
A part of her—a big part, if she was being honest—had touched Jake because she’d wanted to. Sure, the art on his skin had drawn her in, but it was the man underneath she was almost desperate to feel.
And dear God, did she feel him—the steady, constant pounding of his heart under her palm, the rise and fall of his breath, the heat of his body.
Her hand started to tremble under his touch. She raised her eyes to his. The intensity of his look nearly stole her breath.
He was right.
What had she done? What had she really done?
And how the hell was she ever going to live it down?
“I am so sorry,” she said. Her voice was soft, but she punctuated every word. “I got carried away. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know you’re not…”
Her words trailed off as shame got the better of her. Verity closed her eyes, doing her damnedest to regain her composure.
“Verity—” Jake tried.
She shook her head, stopping him short. She couldn’t bear to swallow his consolations.
She opened her eyes a long second later and pulled her palm away from his chest. He released her wrist. Slowly, she rose up from her knees.
“It won’t happen again,” Verity said, taking a step back. Then another. “I promise.”
Jake’s stare stayed steady on her. It seemed like he didn’t blink for a full minute. His body remained motionless, but still somehow hummed with a potent energy that Verity swore she could feel from across the room.
Finally, he rose from the edge of the bed and strode the few steps to his duffel bag. He drew back the zipper, pulled out a fresh shirt, and slid it over his head.
Something that felt suspiciously like panic crept into her chest as she watched him slip on his boots.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“We need to eat,” he said without a hint of emotion. “There’s a diner a couple of blocks down. I’ll go and bring us back a couple of cheeseburgers.”
“Oh. Of course.” Verity’s shoulders fell in relief. He wasn’t walking out on her. Not really. “Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t be gone long. Fifteen minutes maybe.” He started toward the door. “Twenty if I stop at the liquor store and pick us up a six pack.”
“Better make it twenty then,” Verity said with a nervous little laugh. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a cold beer right now.”
The door shut behind him with a soft click, and Verity didn’t waste any time rushing over to the window and pulling back the corner of the heavy drape. She leaned her shoulder against the wall as she watched Jake stride away across the parking lot, only letting the curtain drop once he had turned the corner onto the sidewalk.
Twenty minutes.
Suddenly, that seemed like a lot of time to be left alone with all of her thoughts and plans and regrets.
Especially since one of those three felt a lot heavier than the others.
A hell of a lot heavier.
Chapter Five
Jake stared up through the darkness of the ceiling above his bed.
Verity had turned off the light above her bed well over two hours ago, but he was nowhere near falling asleep. It looked like tonight wasn’t going to be much different than any other.
That wasn’t entirely true.
This one was shaping up to be a hell of a lot worse.
And he’d be a liar if he said that he’d expected anything else.
There’d been a couple minutes there when he’d been out walking when he’d hoped that the fresh air and solitude would clear his head. But hoping was a hell of a lot different than expecting.
Now Jake knew, down to the marrow of his bones, that it was going to be a long time before he was able to shake the image of Verity down on her knees, her hand pressed against his chest, her wide, dark eyes staring up at him.
His cock stirred at the memory.
Shit.
This knot that had formed deep in his belly had nothing to do with lust.
Okay. Maybe that wasn’t totally true.
But it wasn’t completely about lust.
Desire was something Jake knew well. He understood it. He was a damned master of it.
He’d felt the passion pouring out of her fingertips as she’d caressed his skin. He’d heard the soft tremble in her voice when she spoke. She wanted him.
And that was fine.
He wanted her back.
Hell, the air between them had been crackling since the moment he’d first spied her back at the Crossroads. God knew, there was nothing Jake wanted more than to spend the night peeling off her clothes and exploring every lush curve her body had to offer.
But he wasn’t going to.
Verity Green might be the most tempting woman Jake had come across in months—hell, years—but she was also his responsibility. He was honor-bound to protect her. And not just her body, but all of her.
It had nothing to do with Carter forcing him to take this ridiculous assignment. Verity had tracked him down because she trusted him. Her devotion to her brother might be misplaced and her reasoning might be flawed, but that didn’t change a damned thing.
Verity might want him with a passion that showed in every move she made, but she needed him more. She needed him to be sharp and on top of his game…and not distracted like he had been that morning with Tessa and Charlie.
That’s why he’d been so certain that he’d be able to resist Verity’s hungry gaze as he explained the story behind his tattoo.
And he had been.
But what he hadn’t been prepared for was the look of deep understanding that he’d found there too. One look at the compassion burning bright in her eyes and Jake had felt himself falling deep into unfamiliar territory.
He was used to women wanting him. He was even accustomed to a little curiosity. But that was about as far as things went.
About as far as Jake would let them go, if he was being honest.
But Verity hadn’t waited for his permission. She’d just jumped straight in with her empathetic looks and her gentle questions. Then she’d listened to his answers as though she truly cared about what he had to say.
As though she truly cared about him.
And that was what had him wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. At least it wasn’t guilt this time. No, this was all new.
All it took was a story from his past, a few understanding words, and one sweet smile that had somehow moved him all the way to his core, and—boom—he felt a connection to her.
What surprised him even more was the sensation hadn’t been fleeting.
When he’d returned with their burgers and beer, Verity had met him with that same smile. Of course this time it had been hidden under a few layers of embarrassment, and a couple more shaky apologies, but the sincerity in her eyes still shone through.
He had no idea why she insisted on pretending that he wasn’t interested in her, but in the end he figured that everyone had their own way of coping with stress.
And seeing how he was awake in the dead of night staring at the ceiling because for the first time in his adult life he had feelings for someone that had nothing to do with duty, or honor, or lust, Jake figured that he wasn’t one to judge.
He glanced over at the clock just in time to see the hour turn over.
He let out a long breath as he leaned back against the pillow. He bent his elbows, slid his open palms beneath his head and listened to the soft sleepy sounds Verity made as she rolled over beneath her covers.
Yeah. He didn’t get to judge at all.
***
Verity woke up slowly. She opened her eyes gradually, giving herself plenty of time to adjust to the sunlight pouring in through the gauzy curtains.
So, it was already morning. It felt like she’d only fallen asleep a few minutes before, but she figured she must have slept the whole night through.
And here she’d thought she’d have trouble falling asleep.
Maybe those two beers last night hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. Between them and that greasy cheeseburger that Jake had brought back for dinner, she’d nodded right off.
She stretched out her arms and arched her back against the mattress before sitting up. There weren’t any kinks in her neck, no soreness in her muscles. Her body felt rested, but her mind, well, that was another story.
All the troubles that she’d turned the light off on last night were still here waiting for her. They all came back to her in a rush—the problems at work, the awkwardness between her and Jake, Roman’s legal troubles. Not to mention the art she needed to get and send back before Roman arrived at the house.
It was that last one that made her heart clench.
The clock was ticking. She knew what she needed to do and why, but she couldn’t seem to ignore the fear that sunk its claws into her insides every time she imagined getting out there and actually doing it.
But that was exactly what she needed to do—ignore it. Because the sooner the task was done, the sooner this was all over. The evidence that Roman had broken the law would be gone, the treasures would be returned to their rightful home, and she could get back to her normal life.
Her nice, quiet, unremarkable normal life. The one where she didn’t find herself picking pockets, or dodging bar fights, or road tripping with soulful mercenaries.
Verity rubbed her eyes before looking around. She found Jake sitting across from her in the room’s only chair. In one hand he held a sharpening stone, in the other the scariest damned knife that Verity had ever seen.
“Good morning,” she said, pulling back the covers from her legs.
Even from across the room, Verity could make out the tense lines around his eyes as he glanced up at her. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one that was worried about the day’s activities.
“Good. You’re up,” he said, sliding the knife in a smooth arch down the length of the stone. “I was hoping we could get an early start.”
“Then you should have woken me up,” she said, but her tone lacked any punch. Her eyes were glued to the beast of a blade in his hand. “Do you think we’re going to need that?”
“I hope not.” But the edge in his voice told her just how much stock he put in hope.
“All right then. I’ll get ready.” Verity plopped her feet down on the
floor and went to her bag. She pulled out a fresh set of clothes and crushed them against her chest. “Just let me take a quick shower.”
She turned around just in time to see him stand up and slide the knife into a sheath hooked onto his belt.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side as Jake strode past her to the door.
He was in a hurry. There was no doubt of that. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was if it was because he was anxious to get on the road, or to be away from her.
Either way, she couldn’t blame him.
Verity swallowed past the lump quickly forming in her throat and made her way to the bathroom. She didn’t linger in the shower. She toweled off quick and threw on her clothes. A few minutes and a couple of coats of mascara later, she stepped out of the motel room.
She found Jake leaning against the grill of his truck, his cell pressed against his ear. He said a curt goodbye to whoever was on the other end as she approached.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be so quick,” he said.
“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.” She watched him tuck the phone into his pocket. “Who were you talking to?”
“Someone back at the office,” he said, walking over to the driver’s side door. “Just needed to give them a head’s up on where we are headed.”
Verity’s mouth went flat as she climbed up into her seat. “In case something goes wrong.”
“Exactly.” Jake started the engine and threw the truck into reverse.
He turned out of the parking lot and on to the main street. Verity bit into her lip as she turned her face toward her window, hoping that her anxiety would lessen if she wasn’t facing Jake.
No such luck.
The nervous coil in the pit of her belly tightened with every turn of the tires.
“Are you expecting something to go wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing in particular,” he said.
“More like a general sense of concern?”
“Sure.”
Verity nodded as she stared out across the passing traffic lights and buildings. Her nerves were just getting the better of her. There was probably nothing to worry about. After all, she knew that Roman wasn’t going to be there. The house was going to be empty. Everything was going to be fine.
Jake: The Sinner Saints #3 Page 6