Flashpoint (14 page)

While Dustin drove, Brooke called Aidan.

“Blake's in surgery,” Aidan said, sounding tense and stressed. “Badly broken leg.”

Ohmigod.
“Zach?”

“A concussion, broken wrist and a few second-degree burns. I know that sounds bad, but he's going to be okay, Brooke.”

Relief hit her like a tidal wave, but she couldn't lose it because they'd arrived at their call, where she and Dustin found a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound woman stuck in her bed, needing assistance to the bathroom.

“You said you had chest pains,” Dustin said.

“Right. I do. But I think it's heartburn.”

“Are the pains gone now?” Brooke asked.

“Yes. Completely.”

“Ma'am, we still need to bring you in to be checked—”

“Okay, so I never had chest pains. I called because you people won't come out unless it's serious.”

They were speechless.

“Would you hand me my TV remote?” she asked them. “Oh, and that box of doughnuts?”

Brooke stared at her. She'd missed being at Zach's side for this, for a woman who couldn't reach her damn remote so she'd called 911? She handed over the remote but not the doughnuts. “Ma'am, the 911 system is for
real
emergencies—”

“It was a real emergency.”

Dustin still couldn't speak.

“Hey, I'm sorry, but
Grey's Anatomy
is repeating and I missed it the first time around.”

“
Medical
emergencies,” Brooke said tightly.

The woman finally had the grace to look a little abashed. “I know, but who else am I going to call?”

“You could do it yourself.” No longer speechless, Dustin was clearly furious. “Consider it your daily exercise.”

They left there in silence, and it was several long moments before either could speak.

“That didn't just happen,” Dustin finally said.

But unfortunately it had, and they had another call, and then another, and it was several hours before Brooke could get another status check on Zach. By that time he'd been released from the hospital and was at his house, supposedly resting.

She wanted to get over there, needed to get a good look at him herself and make sure he was okay, but the chief put their rig on overtime; neither she nor Dustin was going anywhere.

It killed her.

She'd always given her heart and soul to her job, and that had always fulfilled her. But she could see that was no longer the case. Zach's accident had driven home to her that work was
not
enough.

Here in Santa Rey, she'd found more.

W
HEN THE DOORBELL
rang late that night, Zach was in bed, nicely doped up, flying high on whatever the doctor had given him. Aidan had already brought him dinner and had stayed for a movie, but was gone now. Jenny had brought another movie and a few of her pole-dancing pals by, but they'd left, too.

And now someone else was ringing…He sat up very carefully, and then stayed there, head spinning. He'd never been injured on the job before and wasn't quite sure how it had happened. He remembered nearly getting outside the burning building, but that was all until he'd woken up to a headache from hell and Aidan pulling his sorry ass out of the fire just before it ate them both alive.

He knew the dangers of his job. Hell, he knew the dangers of life, but that reality hadn't hit him since his parents had died.

It hit him now. He could have died.

Morbid thought, but he was a realist. If he'd died, life would go on. People would mourn, sure, but no one's basic existence would change with his passing, and that meant facing something uncomfortable—he hadn't made much of a dent.

After his parents' death, he'd just gone along, minding his business, working hard, playing even harder, and that had always been enough for him, because why go for more when life was so damn short? He'd always looked at his colleagues, the ones who'd tied themselves down with marriages and kids, and had been thankful it wasn't him.

But now he couldn't help but wonder if he'd missed out on something that he'd never fathomed.

The doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” he called out, then instantly regretted it because that hurt. Note to self:
don't yell.
Getting out of bed wasn't too much of a problem, but remaining upright proved to be. It turned out his head didn't feel quite attached, and he brought up his uncasted wrist to hold it in place as he made his way to the door like someone on a three-day drunk. He managed to unlock it, then sagged back against the wall, weary to his bones of the jackhammer going off inside his skull. Everything hurt—his wrist, the burns on his left shoulder, arm and chest…

The door creaked open. “Zach?”

Ah, he knew that voice. He knew what it sounded like when she was in the throes of an orgasm, panting, sobbing for breath. He knew what it sounded like when she was slowly drifting back to him, and his name rolled off her tongue as if maybe, just maybe, he were the best she'd ever had.

At the sight of him, she let out a little gasp. “Zach, you shouldn't be up.”

“You rang.”

“Oh, God. I'm sorry.” And then her hands were on his waist, gently pulling him away from the wall so she could slip her shoulder beneath his good one and wrap an arm around him, supporting his weight. “Okay?” she asked.

He slung his arm around her and smiled into her face. “Okay.” She was wearing a tank top and capris, looking as if she was learning to fit into the beach world after all. Her hair had been pulled back as usual, neat and tidy as could be, so he tugged on her ponytail, just enough to have some strands slipping free. “There,” he said. “A little messy. I like you that way best.”

“Bed,” she said firmly.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

She gave him a look. “What do they have you on?”

“Good stuff.”

“Sounds like it.” One arm was firmly around him, the other hand low on his abs. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but she was actually completely supporting him, even though he was a foot taller and probably had seventy pounds on her.

As he'd always known, the little city girl was a helluva lot tougher than she looked.

At the top of the stairs, she kept moving to his bedroom. He was just dizzy and shaken enough to let her put him to bed, although he did attempt to pull her down with him. “You need liquids,” she said. “Water? Tea?”

“A kiss.”

“Both,” she decided, and vanished.

Uptight, stubborn as a mule, know-it-all, anal woman.

When she came back and set a tray on his nightstand, he struggled to open his eyes, surprised to find even that took effort. “I'm cold,” he said. “Possibly hypothermic.”

“I'll get you a blanket.”

“You're supposed to offer to strip down and press your heated body to mine. It's in all the movies. The girl always strips.”

“Zach.” With her hands on her hips, and her hair suitably messed up thanks to his doing, Brooke looked so pretty and sexy he couldn't think straight.

And she had no idea. No idea at all that she messed with his head just by being. “You really should be out by now,” he said, bemused.

“I'm not leaving you alone.”

“I meant out of my head.” He closed his eyes. “I can't get you out of my damn head.”

What if
she'd
gotten hurt today? What if
she'd
died? At the thought, his throat closed up. Just refused to suck air into his lungs, because apparently he'd screwed up and let himself care. If something ever happened to her…

He'd never put words to his biggest fear before, but he was doing so now. And he didn't like it. Not at all.

“Zach.” Softly, gently, she cupped his face. “You're in my head, too.
Way
too much.”

He hadn't planned to go there—had, in fact, never planned to go there again. His parents dying had nearly been the end of him. “It's the drugs for me.” He closed his eyes. “What's your excuse?”

She was quiet a moment. “Maybe you've proven irresistible.”

He tried to laugh, but that hurt, so he sobered up quickly. “If it'd been you…”

“But it wasn't. I'm fine.” She stretched out next to him on his bed and gently pressed her body to his aching one, easing his pain with no effort at all.

With a sigh, he pulled her closer, holding her tight, tucking her head beneath his chin, wondering how it was that suddenly, with her here in his arms, everything felt all right.

“Are you really okay?” she whispered. Pulling back, she looked up into his face. Her eyes were bright, and warm, and so open Zach could see into her soul.

Was he okay? He didn't feel it. Things had gotten a little crazy in that fire—maybe it was just residual adrenaline making him need her so. “If I said I'm not okay, what would you do?”

Her fingers drifted over his chest in a touch he knew she meant to be soothing, but was actually having an entirely different effect. “I'd do everything in my power to make you comfortable.”

“Then, no.” He went to shake his head, but the pain stopped him cold. “Definitely not okay.”

“Tell me what hurts.”

He looked deep into her eyes and saw so much. So much that he had to close his own.

Coward
. Yeah, despite the tough-guy image his job gave him, he was a coward. At least he knew it, knew his limitations, knew that loving her, loving anyone, was something he couldn't do. “What hurts?” He stayed very still. “Everything hurts like hell.”

Leaning over him, she very carefully kissed his jaw beneath a bruise. “Does that help?”

“Yeah,” he decided. “Yeah, definitely.”

“How about here…” She kissed him again, closer to his ear this time, making his breath catch.

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe I should kiss all your hurts.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me where,” she murmured.

“Here.” He pointed to his throat.

Nodding somberly but with a hint of humor in her beautiful eyes, she obediently kissed his throat, slowly, hotly, with a touch of tongue that shot all the blood in his head to his groin in zero point four.

“Where else?” she asked against his skin, her hand slipping down his side, then back up again, lifting his T-shirt as she went. “Here?” She kissed him over the bandage on his left shoulder and part of his chest, and then the other side, where there were no bandages, just skin, and he felt his heart leap. “Zach?”

“Yeah, there—” He broke off on a shaky breath when she licked his nipple and then began a trail of hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down his torso, southbound.

“Maybe here, too?” She was at his abs now, her fingers toying with the string tie of his sweats. She stopped to glance up at him with an expression that said there was nowhere on earth she'd rather be than right here licking him.

He could come from just looking at her. “Everywhere,” he said hoarsely, and felt her yank on the tie and slip her hand inside, beneath the material, wrapping those magic fingers around him. “God, Brooke.”

“Shh.” She worked his sweats down. “I'm healing you here.” Her lips hovered over him and he held his breath, which came out in a rush when she kissed him.

And then drew him gently into her mouth. He lost himself for a while after that, but managed to tug her up before he exploded. “Skin to skin,” he whispered, and with an eager smile, she pulled off her clothes, and then with such slow care that he was aching by the end of it, she removed the rest of his, as well, before raiding his nightstand for a condom. Shaking with need, he pulled her down over the tip of him and kissed her as she spread her legs, straddling his, and brought him home.

Sensations swamped him, but then she began to move so that he slid in and out of her, in and out, and he lost his breath again. Time drifted away, his entire world shrinking down to the feel of her surrounding him, milking him, and he had to fight the inclination of his own body to let go and fly.

“Are you hurting?” she murmured, her mouth on his jaw, her hands—just her hands had him letting out a groan of agonized pleasure. “Zach?” She stilled. “Am I hurting you?”

“
Killing
me.” He swept his one good hand down her back to grip her sweet, sweet ass, loving the way she panted his name softly in his ear. Slipping his fingers in her silky wet heat, he stroked and teased, doing his damnedest to bring her up to speed to where he was, which was standing on the edge, teetering, so desperate for the plunge he shook with it.

“Zach—”

Unable to help it, he thrust up into her. She was letting out soft whimpers with every breath, assuring him she was as turned on as he.

“Zach, I'm going to—”

“Do it. Come,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want to feel you.”

And she did. She came completely undone for him, on him, her unbound hair in his face, her fingers tightening painfully in his hair. She was breathless, crying out, and he was gasping as her tightening thighs and the slow grind of her hips set off his own climax. He followed her over, swamped with a tidal wave of unnamed emotion as he poured himself into her.

 

A
WHISPER
, then a low male laugh broke through Brooke's subconscious, and then it all came back to her. Going to Zach's house, him answering the door, her taking in all that rumpled, surfer-boy glory.

Taking him to bed, taking him
on
the bed, seeing the look in his eyes that told her he was way more invested in her than he wanted to believe or admit…

She opened her eyes. Yep, still in bed with Zach. Actually, she was wrapped around him like a pretzel, thankfully with the covers up to their chin, because at the foot of the bed stood Aidan, Sam, Cristina and Dustin.

“Definitely, he's doing better than Blake,” Dustin said. “Blake didn't have a woman with him in his hospital bed.”

They were holding fast-food bags, and, as Sam so cheerfully held up to reveal, porn. “To cheer you up.”

“But apparently Brooke had other ideas on how to cheer him up,” Cristina said.

Dustin shushed her.

“Well, she did.” Cristina gave him a little shove. “And as I told
you
before you turned me down, sex is really good for cheering people up.”

Everyone looked at Dustin, who shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I don't like casual cheer-up sex,” he said in self-defense.

“Everyone likes casual cheer-up sex,” Cristina scoffed. “
Normal
people like casual cheer-up sex.”

“Maybe I like it to mean something.” Dustin looked into her eyes. “Maybe I want to know it's going to happen again.”

She jabbed him in the pec with a finger. “I told you, I don't make plans.”

Dustin lifted a shoulder, wordlessly admitting they were at an impasse.

Cristina glared at him, then at the others. “And what are you all looking at?”

In unison, eyes swiveled away from the train wreck waiting to happen, to the other train wreck that had already happened.

Brooke, in Zach's arms.

In his bed.

Surrounded by goggling eyes.

“Get out,” Zach said to them all. “And Aidan, I want my key back.”