Doc Jane grabbed her stethoscope from her dreaded black bag. “This won’t take long—”
“Unless you find something,” Syphon cut in.
Balz wadded up his shirt and pegged the bastard in the head with it. “You’re like GE, you bring good things to life. When you shut up.”
“He was electrocuted, you know.” Syphon peeled the [adult swim] logo off his face. “I mean, he was dead—”
“She treated me! And that was months ago—”
“Boys. Please.”
As Syphon tossed the t-shirt away and Balz tried to look like he wasn’t sulking, Doc Jane plugged the stethoscope into her ears and went in with the disk.
“Take a deep breath for me,” she said. “Good. And another?”
She moved the receiver around his pecs. Then she put it in the center. “Just breathe normally now.”
After a moment, Doc Jane straightened from him. “Sounds good—I’m just going to listen around back, too.”
Balz leaned forward so she could do whatever she needed to—and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Syphon. Because that was totally immature.
So he flipped the fucker off with both middle fingers—
Doc Jane did a double take and yanked the plugs out of her ears. “How did this happen?”
As Syphon sat forward sharply, like he was ready to be called in to help with a code, Balz glanced over. “How’d what happen?”
“These scratches. They’re all over your back, like someone gripped you while you were—oh.”
As the doc flushed, a sense of foreboding had Balz tossing the covers aside and stalking into his bathroom. There was no reason to flip more lights on. That overhead fixture out in the bedroom cast plenty of—
What. The. Fuck.
As he flashed his spine at the mirror over the sinks, he got a load of the long stripes that had been torn into his skin on both sides of his shoulders, his rib cage . . . and right above his ass.
Well, at least he knew why Doc Jane, the unflappable physician, had given him an “oh.” There was only one reason why marks like these would be on a male—and it had nothing to do with him having a medical problem.
Quite the opposite.
When he came out of the bathroom, Doc Jane was closing up her black bag and getting to her feet. “I think we’re okay here, aren’t we.”
Balz crossed his arms over his chest. “Like I said, I’m fine. I was just tired.”
He looked pointedly at Syphon.
“But call me if you need me, okay?” Doc Jane opened the door into the hall. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Balz smiled at her. “And thank you. I’m sorry that Mr. Panic Button over here jumped the gun.”
“No worries.” Doc Jane waved at them both. “I’m always here, and I’d rather you hit me up for nothing than not call me at all.”
As the door closed, Balz stared across at his cousin. “Now do you understand why I might need a little lie-in?”
Syphon put both palms up like someone had a loaded gun between his shoulder blades. “Clearly, I was wrong. I apologize.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Soooooooooooooooo, tell me who the female is. And can you share?”
No, he was never sharing his brunette. With anybody. Ever.
“She’s not one of us.” He gave a pshaw with his dagger hand. “It was just the wife of this guy I visited last night. She was all alone when she shouldn’t have been, and I took care of her.”
“A pity fuck? Not your style.”
“Oh, it was no chore, trust me.” Balz shrugged. “She just needed somebody to make her feel beautiful again.”
“And you very obviously obliged. Several times. I’m jealous.” Syphon clapped his thighs and stood up. “Which clearly is why a guy would need some extra zzZZzz’s and miss a couple—”
“So what was the Brotherhood meeting about?” Balz asked.
As the question was answered, his ears went on the fritz, and it was a relief for so many reasons when his cousin left.
The second he was alone again, he went back into the bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror, he thought about the time he’d spent with the Mrs. at the Commodore. He’d treated her like the queen she was, worshipping her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. A lot of the sex hadn’t registered with any specificity, but he knew one thing for damn sure.
Twisting his back to the mirror again, he stared at the scratches.
The Mrs. hadn’t had long nails.
But dreams didn’t leave love marks . . .
Right?
• • •
As her garage door bumped to a close, Mae turned to Sahvage, aware that her legs were shaking and she couldn’t seem to breathe right. And when his eyes swung over to her, she moved before she had a conscious thought.
She ran across and threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here—”
“Thank God you didn’t invite her in,” he said roughly as he held her tight. “You did the right thing. She can’t get at you now because I’ve salted the entrances.”