Chapter 3
Drew
Maksim frowned when I walked into the kitchen, his eyes immediately going to my hands.
Alfonzo was throwing together two sandwiches and didn’t bother to turn and greet me, not that I was surprised.
He never did. The only person he went out of his way to do anything for was his husband.
Besides, I was just Maksim’s bodyguard. Getting my paychecks and the benefits that came with the job was enough acknowledgment for a man like me.
And it gave me close proximity to my doctor, which was certainly enough… for now.
“What happened to your hands?” Maksim asked, his brows furrowing low over his eyes.
“Went too heavy at training,” I replied, the lie coming easily. Heading to the fridge, I grabbed a water and a protein shake. “Need anything?” I asked before I shut the door.
“No,” Maksim said, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “I want you to tell me the truth.”
I grunted and let the fridge door fall shut. Alfonzo looked at his husband over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about what happened to his hands, mouse.” He set one of the sandwiches in front of him. “Eat so you can take some medicine and get some rest while I ice your shoulder.”
I frowned at Maksim. “Your shoulder is still bothering you?” Usually it eased after a day of resting. To know the pain still hadn’t dulled was unusual.
Maksim scowled and ignored me, clearly in a bad mood, which wasn’t unusual when he wasn’t feeling great. Probably didn’t help that his questions were being ignored. I huffed a laugh and looked at Alfonzo. “Am I needed?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll call if you are. Just remain close.”
Nodding once, I left the kitchen and headed for Nicholas’s office, also known as the infirmary.
My bandages were a bit bloody and needed to be rewrapped, and I hadn’t soaked my hands in Epsom salt like he instructed because I didn’t have any, I didn’t feel like going to the store to get some, and I couldn’t be fucked to rewrap my hands either.
He’d scold me for it, and goddamn, my dick was already thickening at the thought of it. I was a sucker for the doc putting me in my place.
The door was open when I reached his office, so I just walked inside, not bothering with knocking. Hearing my boots, he lifted his eyes from his computer, and something akin to hesitancy and wariness bled into his pretty hazel eyes. I barely bit back my smirk.
I’d bided enough time. Spent enough of my minutes and hours watching him from afar. Tracking every move he made. Now, I was done waiting, and I was going to push the doc until he caved. Until he gave me what I wanted. What I fucking needed.
“Why—” His eyes landed on my hands, and his sigh was filled with exasperation as he stood from his chair.
“Sit down,” he snapped, pointing at the gurney I’d occupied yesterday.
“I swear, I’d think you were a toddler if I didn’t know any better,” he muttered, talking more to himself than me.
I bit back a laugh. “Did you even bother soaking your hands like I told you to?” he demanded as he yanked open his cabinet and began rummaging around. “Are you even resting your hands?”
“Had training this morning,” I told him with a shrug, which wasn’t a lie. Training didn’t stop just because I had busted up, swollen hands. Maksim’s life relied on me always being on my A-game. I couldn’t slack off just because Nicholas wanted me to rest my hands for a few days.
It wasn’t that simple for a bodyguard. Certainly wasn’t that simple for any soldier under Rico’s command. We had jobs to do, jobs we had to remain in tip-top shape for.
“You should have taken some days off training,” he reprimanded.
I scoffed. “You do realize training and my job doesn’t stop just because I fucked my hands up, don’t you?” I questioned. I watched as he set the items he needed down on the bed by my hip. Then, just like the night before, he draped a white towel over my lap, then began to unwrap my hands.
“You won’t be able to properly move your hands soon if you keep this up,” he warned me.
I arched a brow at him. “My pain tolerance is a lot higher than you think.”
His eyes lifted, meeting mine, and something there sparked a heat low in my gut. Like he was reading into the double meaning I’d put behind my words, but he wasn’t sure if I’d meant it how I said it.
“Pain tolerance has nothing to do with moving your hands freely,” he finally said, focusing back on cleaning and rebandaging my hands. “You need to take some time off.”
I shook my head. “Duty calls.”
He stopped again and shot me a disapproving look that I decidedly hated. Having him reprimand me was one thing, but that disapproval? It made me feel like my fucking skin was crawling.
“Fine. I’ll talk to Alfonzo and Rico myself,” he said. “You can’t properly do your job if you fuck your hands up too much.”
I smirked, not worried he would actually do that. Nicholas didn’t step into bodyguard shit. “Worried about me, doc?” I questioned.
He narrowed his eyes at me, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other, both of us trying to figure each other out. Finally, he gritted his teeth, then rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for battle. Battle against what, I had no fucking clue.
“What game are you playing at right now, Rollins?” he demanded, calling me by my last name.
And there it was. The opening I needed. And fuck it all to hell, I was about to fucking take it.