Slow Burn (MM) (5 page)

Brody was mega-pissed; that much was obvious.

Zack was already accustomed to the fluctuating moods, ranging from withdrawn and icy to
almost
amused, but now there was a seething rage he took out on the innocent equipment.

Zack felt bad for the poor weights as they were again clunked down on the last rep.

“Easy on the metal,” he muttered.

Brody ignored him, wiping his forehead with a towel and reaching down to grab his crutches.

He launched himself into the next exercise, ran through the minimum, and threw himself into the reps. Then he was on to the next, glancing up at the clock for the bazillionth time. It’d been like this all day. So unlike him not to add in extra reps or accept Zack’s subtle challenge to push himself a step further. Brody had a fire on his ass making him rush through, sloppy and ineffective.

And if he thought Zack would keep letting it fly, especially when he could injure himself even worse, he had another think coming.

“Hey.” Zack tried interrupting him.

It did nothing.

“Hey!” Zack pushed at Brody’s shoulder and had him sitting back down on the machine. “Hold up a sec.”

The flinch was there, but Zack ignored it. He reached for Brody’s leg and elevated it, touching around the healing scar, noting the swelling. He lifted it farther, and Brody stretched into it. Good to see he at least cooperated that much.

Still holding the leg up, Zack pulled the water bottle out of his pocket and handed it to Brody. “We’re going to move on to stretches and ROM exercises. We’ve done enough weights for today.”

Brody frowned, and Zack could see the protest building.

“We usually spend longer on weights. Why stop?” His tone was clipped and cool.

Zack wasn’t about to tell him that he’d hit them hard enough already and this was a covert attempt to move him away before he hurt himself. Saying that to a man like Brody was waving the red cape for a bull.

“Yeah, just trying to mix it up. Keep your body guessing.” Zack kept his voice light as he held out his hand to retrieve the bottled water. “Let’s do a couple of stretches for range of motion. We did them last week.”

Brody frowned as he got to his feet. Then he didn’t move from where he hung off the crutches, knuckles tensing on the grips.

Zack took a deep breath and tried to meet Brody’s eyes. No such luck as Brody kept them on the mat, their steel gray boring holes all the way through the floor.

“Do you remember the—”

“I remember the fucking stretches.” It came out as a blasted snarl.

Zack crossed his arms. “Okay. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is this is bullshit.” Brody met his gaze, now boring a hole through him. “I should be strengthening. I need to be stronger. I’ve got shit to
do
.”

“Oh
really
?” Zack didn’t budge. Who did this guy think he was? He’d felt like maybe they were heading toward some kind of successful therapeutic relationship. Now, not only was he getting shut out again, he was being told how to do his job?

Clearly Brody hadn’t met Zack’s pit bull side.

Being passive and refusing to rise to Brody’s bait hadn’t worked for long; being a nice guy hadn’t worked. Time to meet Brody on his terms.

“I want to see you do a couple of reps of this
shit
first. Then we’ll ice your knee and call it a day before you tear it up again.”

Brody didn’t back down either. Zack hadn’t expected him to, but even hobbling on crutches, the man managed to intimidate. The shoulders hunched over were still just as broad and the glare was no less scary.

Zack was suddenly glad he had a clean driving history and no parking tickets.

Brody moved closer. “I said I was done with the monkey tricks. I want to do something that’ll actually get me off these fucking things.” He used his weight and height to get in Zack’s space.

Problem was Zack was still taller and hadn’t been scared of bullies since his growth spurt at sixteen. He stepped in as well, coming up close enough to see the steel in Brody’s gaze.

“Do you want to get better, or do you want to drive a desk for the next thirty years?”

The look Brody gave him was a combo of eat-shit-and-die and are-you-even-speaking-English?

Zack repeated the question.

“I want to get better,” Brody snarled. “Of course I fucking do.”

“Then you will listen to
me
. Not just your drive, not your ego, and not your ever-present pride.
Me
. I said I’d get you to department code, and I will. Hell, I can get you beyond code, but you have to stop fighting me at every turn. You
will
slow down when I say you’re pushing it too hard. You’ll do it
before
you undo everything we’ve accomplished. I accept that you’re probably top dog out there on the police force, but you need to accept that I’m top dog in here. I know what the hell I’m talking about, so how about you shut up, listen up, and do what I say?”

Brody’s glare turned to eyes as round as quarters before narrowing again as he contemplated the gauntlet Zack threw down.

Zack wasn’t surprised. He’d bet his damn degree that Brody never expected him to raise his voice
and
get in his face. They logged in a thirty-second stare-off before Brody finally nodded. Zack could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of respect cross Brody’s hard features before it disappeared.

“Fine,” Brody bit off.

It wasn’t until Zack felt the huff of breath brush his cheeks that he realized they stood entirely too close.

Their proximity and the heat from the argument caused a different kind of tension to rise. Zack felt his squashed attraction for the man sprout anew and grow even stronger. He liked someone who wasn’t scared to go toe-to-toe with him. Right now, Brody looked ready to battle, crutches be damned. Zack stepped back and gave a short wave to the mat. ”Then let’s see it.” Brody hobbled over, shoving the crutches at him before he began the exercises.

The rest of the session flowed, but Zack kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never did.

Brody did the stretches. He cooperated as Zack took him through basic range of motion and finally directed him to the back room to elevate his leg and ice down.

Yes, he continued to scowl like the entire world offended him by its very existence, but Zack could handle that. He was pretty sure it was Brody’s neutral gear anyway. He’d fall backward on his ass if Brody ever cracked a full, genuine smile.

After ten minutes, he checked on Brody in recovery. He was lying down, leg elevated and ice pack firmly in place. The arm slung over his eyes revealed the curve of his triceps perfectly.

Have mercy.

He rested the other on the flat of his stomach; a patch of skin showed above the waist of his basketball shorts, a line of dark hair delved lower still.

Zack swallowed and aimed the question at the spot on the gray wall above Brody’s head. “How’re we doing?”

Brody lifted his arm to look over. And, of course, scowl. “Don’t know how
we
are doing, but my knee hurts like a bitch.”

Maybe this was all nature’s way of making it possible to interact with the man on a professional level. Take a man
so
damn sexy, fuckable, and determined, but then toss in the fact he was the biggest ass so that everyone didn’t fall all over him at every interaction.

Pity the being-an-ass thing didn’t put Zack off. Hell, it only made him more of a challenge, and Zack was all about conquering the impossible. He shook his head and walked over to examine Brody’s knee.

Brody was a patient. Off-limits. Business. Professional.
Focus.

He removed the ice. There was swelling but nothing unexpected. He lifted the ankle, keeping his hand on the knee joint, feeling as it moved smoothly.

He stopped when Brody tensed. No show of bitching, though, just a hardening of the jaw, stiffened shoulders as he let Zack move his leg. Zack lowered the leg back down and replaced the ice pack. “I think you’ll live.”

Brody’s shoulders relaxed, but he still grumbled, “Maybe. No thanks to you.”

It sounded like the pouting of a petulant child, but it was coming from such a large, full-grown man, Zack couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.

Brody raised an eyebrow as Zack continued to chuckle, shaking his head. “I thought cops were supposed to be tough.”

Brody’s answer to that was a look that surely scared most people shitless.

Zack wasn’t most people.

The scowl, the intensity of those gray eyes—the guy
needed
to lighten up. They’d hit a bump in the road today but managed. He wasn’t about to let Brody go back to being the difficult patient he had been at the start. Life was too short for all this damn drama, and right now, they needed a laugh.

Zack leaned over Brody and grabbed the stethoscope hanging on the wall next to the blood pressure cuff.

“What are you doing?” Brody eyed him, following every movement.

Zack continued to angle the headset. He placed the tips in his ears and leaned over, then put the diaphragm to Brody’s chest. “Making sure you’ll live.”

The corner of Brody’s mouth quirked as he fought off a smirk. He muttered something and shoved at Zack’s hands. “Man…get off me.”

Amusement lit his eyes, so Zack continued, putting his serious doctor face on—which was bullshit, because he couldn’t stop grinning.

“I really should check. I may have done you in, what with your delicate health and all. I won’t know unless I find a heartbeat,” Zack said.

Brody continued to shove, even as he fought harder and harder not to smile. Zack did laugh as Brody finally shook his head, rolled his eyes, and lowered his hands in defeat. “Fine. Make sure I’ll live.” He looked Zack in the eyes and added, “Smart-ass.”

Zack continued to listen to the steady beat and grinned as Brody rolled his eyes to heaven.

He could even work out a resting heart rate from this, listening to the strong thumps, quickly glancing down at his watch. Decent. Resting below sixty. Brody was fit. A lot more fit than he gave himself credit for. The muscles in his chest were defined, and that didn’t come from police work. He had to work out regularly.

The meat of Zack’s hand rested on his broad chest, fingers moving on the swell of his pectorals as they rose and fell with each breath. The stir in his shorts brought him back front and center to the fact that this wasn’t the best idea. Leaning over his very attractive and touch-phobic patient. Even if all he intended to do was see if the man could lighten up. Maybe even laugh.

He wasn’t laughing now. When Zack lifted his eyes to Brody’s, he was hit with the full intensity of stormy gray. Not filled with amusement anymore but with something else.

It sent heat down Zack’s spine and into his shoes. He wasn’t even listening to the beats, just frozen in place with the buds in his ears, fingers still pressed to Brody’s chest as they stared at each other. The humor of the moment fell away as Brody continued to stare, arms still folded behind his head, mouth set into a straight line.

Zack straightened a tad too sharply and tucked the scope around his neck. Pulling his face into a rehearsed, easy smile, he hid the heat thrumming in his veins. “Yeah. You’ll live.” He started backing toward the door and gave a lame salute that made him want to cringe. God he was such a spaz. “I…I’ll see you next week, Rocky.”

He rushed to exit stage left, narrowly missing the doorframe on the way out.

Chapter Six

Two weeks. Two weeks down and only thirty more minutes remaining. One last session and Zack would be done dealing with Detective Douglas Brody.

Not that Brody was the issue anymore. The opposite, actually. Brody showed up and did what Zack told him. Even now he practiced knee bends, sans crutches, on top of the balance trainer. He wasn’t overly friendly or warm and fuzzy during their hour, but he wasn’t a tool bag anymore either. He got down to business and stayed focused. He’d made tremendous progress as a result, and today he’d be checked off as ready for light duty.

No, Brody wasn’t the problem at all. Zack was.

Every session, every time they had small talk in the last ten minutes before he left, Zack felt a now familiar gravitational pull toward the man. In those last ten minutes, he didn’t want Brody to go. As much as he knew Brody needed to go, for sanity’s sake, he wanted him to stay. He wanted to know more. Crack that tough exterior, have a couple of beers together…maybe grope one of those massive thighs to feel it tense beneath his palm.

“Get a grip,” Zack muttered to himself and made busy writing notes for Brody’s file. The man either wasn’t gay or, if he was, he was so latent he may as well be dead. Regardless, in a few minutes he wouldn’t be in Zack’s life anymore. Gone. Thanks for the help. And Zack could get back to reality and focus his energy on a good-looking, gay,
friendly
guy who was into him.

Shit. At what age would he grow out of the unrequited longing for some hot-as-hell straight guy who would freak out at the notion of even touching another man?

Maybe his next birthday.

“What next, Doc?” Brody asked, stepping off the half ball.

Oh, and that. He’d taken to calling Zack “Doc” ever since the joke with the stethoscope. The day Zack had been sure he’d given himself away and Brody was going to show up the next time and beat his ass. But Brody had left that day like nothing happened and showed up every session after like nothing was amiss. No biggie. Other than calling him Doc and Moose from time to time.

“Let’s try some knee curls. Easy on the weight, higher reps.” Zack notched the weight at forty-five pounds, and Brody pumped away, no questions asked, sweat making his skin slick. Skin that would be hot to the touch and smooth under his fingers.

See? There he went again.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Zack called, stepping over to one of the empty desks. He could trust Brody to do his reps properly now, and he needed to get away. If not, there was the distinct possibility he’d end up openly ogling Brody’s sculpted legs and then licking his chops like a hungry tiger.

Yeah, that’d go over
so
well.