Free Protective Ink (Urban Fantasy) by Misty Simon Page B

A.
    “Go, I’ll take care of it.”
    “It was weird. Like it was staged. A play. Be careful.”
    “I will, Garrett. Go home now.”
    As soon as he hung up he called Dory. “Incoming.”
    “Again? I’ll do this all day if I have to, Jackson, but I don’t know if he can handle any more.”
    “I know, chicky. Let me get back to you. I have to go.”
    “Be careful. You’re important, too.”
    “Bye.” He stared at the phone in his hand for a brief second then checked his shoes and made sure his T-shirt was tucked into the waistband of his pants. Anything except for looking at Lissa.
    “I’ll let you know if I find anything.” And he turned around and left.

Chapter Seven
    Lissa stomped down the interior stairs from her apartment to the downstairs parlor. She needed something to do to keep herself sane. He had kissed her again, made her feel things again, and she would cheerfully have killed him for it. Damn him for his soft lips and his demanding touch that sent waves of heat racing through her body even now when she was simply thinking about it. Why had he come to her apartment at all?
    Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she rested her back against the wall of the landing and thought about how she had shyly asked him if he would take her to prom long ago, right after the first tattoo she gave him. He’d declined because he had to ship back out, but something had passed between them that had been more than friendship.
    Jackson had left the marines almost ten years ago and moved here, wanting to be close to Garrett’s hometown. The convenience of having Garrett’s tattoo artist somewhat nearby had probably enticed him, too. They’d settled comfortably into a distant yet intimate friendship. Until last night.
    She whipped open the door to Wicked Ink, intent on getting some fresh air. She would not think about either last night or tonight’s kisses. There was no need because they changed nothing.
    The back of her neck prickled a warning only a second before someone grabbed her around the middle, imprisoning her arms against her sides with hands as cool as glass. She opened her mouth to scream and a hand clamped over her lips and nose, cutting off her air supply.
    She had enough sense to go limp for a second, catching her assailant off guard, then stepped back and flipped him over her head with a jerk of her whole body. He went down with a grunt but was up again in a flash. They circled each other, his hands out and making grabs for her as she danced out of his reach.
    He was several inches taller than her and built lean. His face was covered in a ski mask, leaving her with very few clues to help her identify him if she got out of this alive.
    Where the hell was Jackson when she needed him?
    * * *
    Another frustrating dead end. Jackson felt like beating the snot out of Garrett, no matter how old he was. He should have been at home resting, but he’d gone back out instead, taunting these people to come and get him. Jackson did not enjoy the chase, even on a good day, and this was most certainly not a good day.
    He had told Lissa he’d call her if he found anything after cleaning up the signs of Garrett’s latest tussle. There had been no new leads, though, and he was tempted to go straight home and get some shut-eye. The morning would come soon enough. With it there would be new stress. In addition to everything else he was juggling, he and his construction company would be starting a new project.
    Yet something told him he should check in with Lissa before heading home. He could have called her, but he was only a block away from her house. It was easy enough for him to stop by. If she were asleep, he’d leave and call her in the morning.
    As he walked past the back of the building, he glimpsed commotion in the room where Lissa did her tattooing. Two shadows wrestled in the light thrown from the neon All Girls All Night sign across the alley.
    He fumbled his keys in his hands, trying to get the right one.