Jordan lurched to his feet and stumbled toward Brett. No less than three men had to hold him up and turn him toward his bedroom. Mikael sighed and followed them.
“I will need help to undress him,” he said as he disappeared into the room. All but Graves walked out.
“I’m not getting punched in the face,” said Carter. “Drugged up or not, I’m not taking the chance.”
Sounds of a struggle came from the room. Jordan yelped as if someone had been brazen enough to tickle him. He grunted, and the bed creaked. A few minutes later, a breathless Mikael walked back out.
“Who has supplies to clean him up? He still has blood on him.” He glared when no one volunteered. “He would do it for you.”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I said. “Bunch of babies.”
Between Mikael and me, it took thirty minutes to clean the remaining blood from his neck and shoulder and pull the blanket up to his chin. He fought us every step of the way, swearing, twisting, and slapping at our hands like a pissed-off toddler. He’d only calmed down after I’d promised him a lollipop. He’d snorted, then winced from the pain it caused. He closed his eyes, settled enough to sleep.
“Smack me if I’m ever that difficult,” I said as he breathed deeply. “I’m staying here tonight.”
“This bed is too small for the both of us,” said Mikael, pointing to the twin bed opposite where Jordan lay.
“I’m not moving. Go sleep in my bed if you’re against sharing a mattress.”
“The team will think—”
“I owe Jordan two life debts. The least I can do is watch over him.”
He looked between Jordan’s sleeping form and his empty bed on the other side of the room. “Just for tonight. I know you worry.”
“I won’t sleep no matter where I am, so I might as well be useful. And you need to rest. I need you to be sharp tomorrow.”
“Grab what you need for the night from your room, and we’ll switch.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The room was chillier than the small one I’d occupied on the other side of the house. I shivered under the quilt and turned toward Jordan once again. His breathing was steady although he didn’t move an inch. I itched to turn on the light and check his bandages. If the slightest thing went wrong, I had every intention of calling an ambulance and sending him straight to the nearest intensive care unit, and I didn’t care what he wanted.
Nicholas had betrayed me. I didn’t believe for a second that his abilities had failed him. There was no serum that I knew of that could neutralize a supernatural gift. He’d run away, the mission more important than the man who’d saved his life, more important than the woman he claimed to love. He knew my life depended on Jordan’s survival. That reason alone should have made him stay. I’d never forgive him for putting the mission first, and I didn’t care if that made me a hypocrite.
Across from me, Jordan shifted on his side, groaning. I padded across the short distance between us and sat on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t leaning on the side of his wound, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull his excessive amount of stitches. I touched the bandages to ensure they weren’t damp with his blood and found the gauze and tape dry. Unable to help myself, I pulled the blanket over his shoulders and kissed his cheek, his beard scratching my lips. Like lightning, his hand grabbed my wrist and twisted, and he snarled.
“Jordy, it’s me,” I whispered, and tried to get away from his grasp. Even injured, he was strong.
He opened his eyes and stifled a yawn. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice scratchy and sluggish with exhaustion.
“Taking care of you. I didn’t trust anyone else to stay up and watch you.”
He made a disbelieving noise. “To make sure I’m breathing?”
My face flushed and I was glad he couldn’t see the color in my cheeks. “Yeah, something like that. You scared me,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to let you out of my sight. You might do something stupid like leave and go for a run.”
He loosened his grip on my wrist and rubbed his thumb over the circle that was likely as red as it was sore. “I’m not used to anyone touching me in my sleep.”
“You clearly don’t have siblings. We were always trying to prank each other in the middle of the night.”
“Sounds like fun.” He laced his fingers through mine and rested our linked hands on his chest. His head sank into the pillow, and he closed his eyes again. “Thank you for staying.”
“You saved two lives tonight. It’s the least I can do.” You couldn’t have paid me to let go of his hand or remove it from his chest. That small connection was the only thing that had calmed me since the moment I first saw him bleeding.
Jordan smiled in the near darkness and laid his free hand on my knee. “Is that the only reason?”
My mouth dried. What the hell was I supposed to say, that I’d realized I couldn’t live without him, and not just supernaturally? Or that I’d never been so scared in my life, not even when I’d sacrificed myself a few years earlier? Ooh, better yet, I could have just told him that checking on his wound was just an excuse to touch him, feel the warmth of his very much alive body, and hear him breathe. “I, um, you should sleep.”
“I took a bullet for you. Humor me.” Jordan’s mouth curved into the sweetest smile as he caressed my hand with his thumb.
Dammit. As if I’d deny him anything right now. “No, it’s not the only reason. But we don’t need to talk about this right now. You’re hurt and in pain. Rest.”
“Nope. You opened the door. There’s no going back. Now, why else would you want to watch me tonight? I don’t talk in my sleep, so you’re not getting any secrets from me.”
“You figured out my plan.”
We were quiet for a while, so long that I thought he’d fallen back asleep. I inched my hand from beneath his until his grasp tightened.
“Listen, about earlier…”
I smiled. “You get a pass for being a jerk to everyone, at least for tonight. You were pretty messed up on those pain meds, babbling all sorts of nonsense.”
Jordan shifted and opened his eyes, pinning me in place with that soul-penetrating stare. “About earlier. I’m sorry. The drugs, like you said, they dropped my normal walls and inhibitions. It was out of line and terrible timing.”
My jaw dropped. His issue was the timing? What the hell was I supposed to do with the thought that he sometimes thought he more than liked me? When I thought that we would die, my only question was whether we’d go on to the next place together.
“You’re important to me,” he continued. “I’m not a good person, and I don’t care for many people. But I care about you a lot. Thanks for sticking by me, even when I’m a jerk.”
“Always.”
“Have you slept at all?”
I shook my head. Jordan shifted on the mattress until his back hit the wall and patted the now-vacated space.
“Huh?”
“Lay down with me. You won’t sleep unless you know I’m breathing. I don’t want you staring at me in the dark all night. Compromise.”
He tugged me down toward the bed. My body, that traitorous thing, curled up next to him on its own volition. I hadn’t even made up my mind when his arm went around me, and my head rested on his shoulder.
Jordan took my hand and sighed. “Much better.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled. I reached up and touched his bandaged neck and felt for wetness again. It was dry. He was coherent and seemed to be able to move his head with no difficulty. He angled his head back and out of reach.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Comfortable?”
I had never been more uncomfortable in my life. I was confident he could hear my heart thundering in my chest and the harsh swallowing of my dry throat. I fought the trembling that threatened to dance down my arms and into my hands. His chest moved evenly, and his own heartbeat was slow and regular as if there was nothing unusual about being in bed together.
My eyes were open, and every
nerve was utterly aware of him. There was no way I’d sleep now. I squeaked out something that sounded like yes and prayed he’d fall asleep soon. We lay there in silence for several minutes.
Jordan let out a small laugh. “This is getting ridiculous.” I lifted my head to ask him what was ridiculous about this situation, aside from the obvious. He touched my chin and angled my head up to meet his eyes. That tickling in the back of my head crescendoed to a roar, the sound of blood pumping through our veins. I wanted to close my eyes and turn away. The intensity of the moment was too much for me. I couldn’t breathe.
He brushed his lips over mine. Once. Twice. And he waited.
My brain stopped working, and some lower function took over. I leaned in and returned the gentle pressure, luxuriating in the softness of his lips and the contrast of his beard. Kissing Jordan was nothing like being with Nicholas. Every one of my senses was filled with him. I could feel him in my mind, the longing and the building passion, and I knew he needed this, me, as much as I needed him.
Jordan broke the kiss and turned his attention to my neck, biting down along my pulse, the same spot he’d kissed just a few short days ago. His hands slipped beneath my camisole and caressed my back, those callouses teasing and abrading in equal measure. I whimpered and writhed against him, desperate for more. He understood and kissed his way along my collarbone, his grasp tightening around me as my body arched into his.
Breathing heavy, he paused. “We should stop.”
“I don’t want to stop. Unless you want to stop. Then we can just forget this happened,” I babbled, horrified. “I’ll just go back to the other bed.”
“Don’t. Just don’t feel… when it’s too much, tell me. No harm, no foul.”
I was convinced that his blue eyes were searching my face for the slightest sign of hesitation. Was he looking for an out? Did he regret kissing me? Oh, gods. Was the kiss bad? I’d enjoyed myself. I missed the tiny room on the other side of the house where I could have played out these fantasies in my mind without the real chance of rejection.
“So?” he prompted. “You call the shots here.” He let out a short laugh. “And in most aspects of my life. Why not now?”
“What the hell,” I said with a casualness I did not feel. I pressed my body into his and kissed him the way I’d been dreaming about for years.
The tempo changed, and our hands were all over each other. I tugged on the hem of his t-shirt and tried to pull it off. He moved back and yanked it over his head. When I pulled on the waistband of his shorts, he froze.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said and wriggled out of my own shorts, revealing the pathetic excuse for underwear I’d worn to bed. In the dim light from the window, I could see his eyes grow wide. He removed his shorts and came back, his lips hot against my fevered skin. I explored the hard planes of his chest with my fingertips and ached to follow with my mouth, desperate to taste the salt of his skin. My nails trailed down his back and traced the scars that marred his flesh.
Jordan rocked his hips into mine, groaning against my lips. “Jasper,” he said in a ragged whisper. “No. I don’t want to push you.”
“You’re not,” I replied breathlessly. “That sense of me in the back of your mind, the one that lets you know what I’m feeling? What does it tell you?”
He contemplated me for a minute, and I swore I could feel his mind probing mine. He gasped in amazement as he found his answers. “Really?”
“Do you understand now?”
Soon there were no layers between us as we strained against each other. Jordan pulled back and stared at me with the question in his eyes.
“Yes,” I said and arched my hips. We moved as quietly as possible in the small bed, our bodies pushing and pulling, frenzied.
This was everything. Our minds connected, and I could feel the pleasure he felt, feel the passion that had been stoked to a roaring blaze. We moved together for what felt like hours. He pushed me over the edge over and over again, each time leaving me convinced that I could take no more. After an eternity, he kissed me to silence his cry as he found his release.
✽ ✽ ✽
We fell asleep hours later, after a brilliant repeat performance, and snuggled under the quilt. We were so exhausted that we didn’t hear the soft knock on the door or the creak when it opened, and Mikael stuck his head inside. What we did hear was his shocked babbling in Russian.
I shot up and clutched the quilt to my chest. Unable to form words, I gaped like a fish. Jordan, however, smirked and told him to come back in half an hour.
“Oh, gods,” I groaned.
“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” said Jordan. “You might hurt my feelings.”
“First, you don’t have normal-people feelings. Second, no, I’m not embarrassed about this, just that Mikael caught us. I wish he’d found out differently.”
“And I would have preferred that he didn’t interrupt my sleep. We can’t all get what we want. He said he was looking for you. Go talk to him and come back.” He looked up at me and smiled. “Please.”
I melted a little. “Everyone will be up soon.”
“They’ll sleep in after last night. Besides, who cares?”
“I took advantage of you while you’re injured and drugged. I’m your boss. We’re in the middle of a mission. This would reflect poorly on me.”
Jordan sighed with annoyance. “If anyone has a problem, they can take it up with me.”
“Jordy,” I hissed, “you’re missing the point.” I shimmied into my pajamas and wrapped a spare quilt around my shoulders, feeling exposed. “I will deal with Mikael, and you’re going back to sleep. You need your rest. And try not to move around too much. Your stitches are still fresh.”
He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. A low mumble about not arguing and sleep came from him. Unable to help myself, I walked over to him and kissed his cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked, sounding too pleased with the small gesture.
“For being you,” I replied. “Sleep. I’ll be back in a while.”
I shuffled into the living room and found Mikael sitting on the couch, the shock still clear in his wide eyes and slack mouth. He paled at my appearance and ducked his head as if he were the guilty party.
“I am so sorry for interrupting. I did not know.” He frowned. “Why did you not tell me? Did you think that I would disapprove?”
“Shh, lower your voice. I don’t want anyone else to know. It’s new, okay? Can we talk about this when the mission is over?”
“Da, da.” He took a deep breath and shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought of his two best friends together. “I had a thought that woke me this morning. We are idiots. The tracker in his shoe. They will never find it because it is embedded in the heel, deep in the rubber.”
“We’re complete idiots,” I said. “Why didn’t we think of this last night? We know where he is.” My broad grin faded. “Unless they take away his shoes.”
“But it gives us more than what we have. Get dressed while I find him.”
I didn’t bother to ask what time it was as I ran to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and squished my sore body into a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Mikael, in his vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt and a pair of well-loved shorts, handed me a cup of coffee and patted the spot next to him on the couch. I ruffled his already sleep-mussed hair and kissed his cheek in thanks. We stared at the screen on his laptop and followed the line where the tracker had been. Nicholas has somehow made it into a vehicle. Whether he went by choice or by force was up for debate.
They’d made three stops before taking him to some location a couple hours away in a sleepy beach town south of Los Angeles. From there, there were no recorded movements. Using our completely illegal super-spy satellite hookup, we zoomed in as close as we could and found what looked to be a mansion with private beach access. From the main road, a paved lane covered the mile and a half to the house. To the left was a large
driveway leading up to the garages. To the right was the two-story house itself, if it could be called something as modest as a house. The property was spread over almost an acre of land. Each pair of windows had its own private balcony with chairs and short-legged tables.
Mikael whistled low under his breath. “This looks like our celebrities would visit here. Look! This wall is covered in those succulents you like. Is that a private garden?”
“Dude,” I whispered in awe. “It’s right on the beach. What I wouldn’t give to take a vacation there.”
We zoomed in from every angle possible, oohing and aahing over the gorgeous cool white walls and Spanish tile roofs. There were at least ten cars parked that we could see, but there might have been more inside the many garages. The program captured a sole woman walking on the property. Although the image was grainy at that resolution, we were able to determine that she might have been in her mid-twenties to early thirties. She didn’t have any obvious shocks of gray hair that the satellite could pick up. She lacked the carefree carriage of a younger person but was not yet slumped from the weight of life. She couldn’t have been much taller than me and was built like a high-school athlete, her profile slim but solid. Yet, she was completely and utterly unremarkable. Had she been wearing a name tag or a collared shirt with the cult’s motto, we might have gotten somewhere. But nope. She wore a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt. Who the hell kidnapped someone wearing pink? Weirdos and cult members, that was who.
If only the images had shown Nicholas at one of the windows, signing to us that he was okay.
I faced Mikael and took a deep breath. That house, or mansion, probably had a million sub-basements with torture apparatuses in them. He could have been strapped to a table as we imagined ourselves tanning on that beach.
“We should leave now.”
Mikael rolled his eyes. “With the team asleep and incapacitated? Just you and I? Neither of us can drive well. I have broken ribs. You stopped breathing last night.”
He had several good points. It was five in the morning, and the sounds of snores and grunts filled the house. I put down the coffee and curled up on one end of the couch. “Can you find any footage from neighborhood cameras that saw them arriving or leaving?”
The Black Knights Page 26