“Both.”
“Is it a problem?”
“Only when I try to reach them.”
Eve snorted. “Do you stretch?”
“Not much.”
She sat up, faced him, and crossed her legs. “Okay, big guy. Let’s see it.”
Zander sat up and bent at the waist. The tips of his fingers reached to the middle of his shins. “See?”
“Mmhmm. And standing?”
He got to his feet and repeated the procedure. Same result. “What do you think?”
“I think you need to stretch more.” She stood. “Want me to show you a few poses?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Any suggestions on what to do about this crick in my neck?” He bent his head toward his left shoulder, and vertebrae snapped.
“May I?” Her hands eager to get to work, she held them aloft, and after his nod, she circled around him and set them on his deltoid muscles, her fingers probing up to his neck.
When she reached his exposed skin, the thick burn scars on his right side felt like hard lengths of rope. “Any pain?” she asked, working her way to his strong jaw, over the back of his shaved skull, and down the entire length of his spine.
“Just a little twinge every once in a while.”
Eve came back around to stand in front of him, checking along his collarbones. “How long has it been bothering you?”
“About three years.”
“Three years!” She shook her head. Typical behavior based on her previous experience with military types. “Have you seen anyone? A doctor? Chiropractor? Physical therapist?”
His head shake almost masked the slight tremor that traveled along his nerve endings to hers through the pads of her fingers. Understandable. Burn scars like his hinted at immeasurable amounts of pain and suffering at the hands of the people who had helped him heal.
“Can you take your shirt off?” Eve asked, wanting to visually inspect the alignment of his shoulders.
“Uh…” His gaze flicked to the wall of glass at the front of the studio, and she turned in time to see Cody limp down the hall to take up position on the bench press.
Clearly, Zander didn’t like to put his scars on display. She added the mental note to the patient file she’d already started in her head. “There’s a treatment room next to Doc’s office. Why don’t we go in there, and we can get started?”
He grinned, and a rare flash of emotion crossed his stoical face. “Think you can help me?”
She grinned back at him. “IknowI can help you.” She patted him on a bulging bicep. “And don’t worry. It won’t hurt a bit.”
Adam satat what he’d started to think of as his desk in the office off the kitchen. The colonel’s laptop open, the blinking cursor irritated him. While the JTT had monitored the Miami mission, he’d spent the morning going through the operational files he had access to, searching for any possible connections to Jay.
He’d only scratched the surface, but nothing popped out at him.
Either his mother was full of shit, or the information had been saved in the files he didn’t have access to—yet. Attention focused on multiple priorities, Jay hadn’t had a chance to crack the security code on the Eidolon file, and while the mystery pulled at Adam’s curiosity, he couldn’t take the time to investigate further.
The double row of boxes stacked under the window drew his eyes. The paper files from his father’s Palo Pinto office. He didn’t have time for those either. A hint of guilt ghosted through his chest. His father had assigned leadership of the Joint Task Team to him, and he’d taken his sweet-ass time accepting the responsibility.
Finding Eve had changed everything—changed him—and he wasn’t prepared. Her question at breakfast had thrown him for a loop, and he hadn’t given her a proper answer. Yeah. He’d seen the brief flash of disappointment she’d hidden behind a quick smile, and nothing could have been a swifter kick to the nuts.
