Promises Part 2 (Bounty Hunters 2)

“How come I wasn’t notified of this?” Cayson aggressively fingered through a couple previous pages to see if he missed an ER visit documented in Duke’s file, but he hadn’t. “You didn’t get any X-rays done? What the hell, Duke?”

“I told you he’d be mad.” Vaughan whistled low, giving Duke a look of pity.

“Oh, shut up, troublemaker,” Duke groused.

“On the table, Duke.” Cayson got up and went over to the far right side of his office where he had an exam table and sink. When Duke hesitated, Cayson threw in a forceful, “Now” for emphasis.

“It was just some bruising. No big deal. I’ve had cracked ribs before, they were way worse than this. Besides, Quick took the real beating. I was on top of the pile. He’s the one all fucked up.”

Cayson’s hands froze while lifting Duke’s shirt. Quick. Is he hurt? Is he okay? Did he go to the ER? Duke noticed Cayson’s pause, his dark brow raised slightly in amusement. Great. Cayson could feel his face heating. Not now. Anytime Duke mentioned Quick, all Cayson could think about was how he’d embarrassed himself by flirting with an obvious straight stud who was so far out of his league it was ridiculous. Quick had shot him down so fast it’d made his head spin, and Cayson hadn’t fully recovered before he was thrown out of the man’s home like the filthy slut his behavior resembled.

“You okay, Doc?” Duke asked, reclining on the table and lifting his black t-shirt. Vaughan stood on the opposite side, absently stroking Duke’s large biceps with one hand while his other hand flew across the keyboard on his phone.

Duke smiled shyly. “Lawyers, huh?”

Cayson smiled, but was still distracted as he pressed a few tender spots on Duke’s abdomen before working his way over his ribs. Duke was right. They most likely weren’t fractured, but the man needed to be careful out in the field. He may look gorgeous, but his body was still its age and it had taken a hard setback last year. Vaughan and Duke both took great care of themselves and exercised regularly, but he worried about the aggressively physical nature of Duke’s work.

“Duke, I need you to be more careful, man. If the bruises weren’t already healing, I’d have you downstairs getting some images taken, but I’m pretty confident you’re just bruised.” He palpated a few more areas, which Duke seemed fine with, then told him he could get up. All the other tests and bloodwork were good on both of them. Life after a transplant could be difficult if you didn’t have a good case manager to watch for signs of trouble. It’d been almost nine months since the surgery, and Cayson couldn’t be happier with the results. He’d hate for all his hard work to be undone because of a perp who skipped bail. But that was Duke’s life.

“I promise, Doc. More careful, and no more dancing with men bigger than me.” Duke pulled his shirt down and climbed off the table.

Although Cayson’s back was to them, he heard their kiss and whispered promises to each other before they rejoined him. Settling back behind his desk, he tried to play uninterested when he asked, “So, um. Roman got hurt. Did he see a doctor?”

“Yeah, right. Since there were no protruding bones or visible blood, he felt no need. But, personally, I think his ribs might be worse off than mine. Stubborn bastard took on three men, ignoring my call to pull back.”

Cayson squirmed in his chair. Thinking of the big, bad bounty hunter caused reactions in his body that he had no control over, often leaving him embarrassed and ashamed. But Quick fighting three men, that sounded like damn good jerk off material. There was no denying the exceptional amount of lust that snaked through him when it came to Quick, no other way to describe it. It wasn’t love. He didn’t know him well enough for that. But it was electric, for sure. Facing Roman, especially going to his home again, wasn’t a good idea at all.

“I would feel more comfortable if he got it checked out. His cheek is still swollen, too.” Vaughan nodded, agreeing with Duke. Cayson peered at booth of them over his paperwork. “I can recommend someone.”

“Quick would never agree to that.”

“I doubt he’ll agree to me treating him, either.” Cayson focused on keeping his expression blank, even though saying that out loud hurt like a bitch. It was how he showed himself, how he shined. By caring, healing. It really was the only thing he was good at. But Quick hadn’t let Cayson touch him since he’d stitched up the gash in his arm, months ago. Cayson tried to pour as much care into that menial procedure as he could, but Quick had still left the ER without as much as a “See you later,” or “I’ll talk to you soon.” He got nothing but a canceled follow-up appointment.