Chapter 8 Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When desires explode...The inconsiderate host!

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"Son-of-a-bitch!" Bradley bellowed when Jean peeled off the dressing on his wound two days after the surgery. "What the fuck is this? Waxing?" He looked pissed.

"Hmmm... sorry, I should have shaved off your pubes before applying..."

"The fuck?" Bradley looked...scandalized.

"Well, everything has to come off or..." Jean smirked as he stared down at Bradley's neatly trimmed pubic hair. "... you're going to feel like you're waxing anytime I change your dressing."

"Fuck the hell off." Bradley snapped.

"Suit yourself." Jean proceeded to dress Bradley's wound. "I like how it's looking." He commented. "I'll give you a quick rubdown. Then I will move you into a proper room. Okay?"

"Whatever," Bradley grumbled.

Ignoring his patient's sour attitude, Jean proceeded to thoroughly wash him clean. When he finished, he dressed Bradley in a comfortable long t-shirt that went as far as his thigh. Jean was just a fraction taller than Bradley and virtually the same size as him so his long t-shirt worked just fine. Jean then helped Bradley into the wheelchair and wheeled him to what was going to be his room during his stay in his house. When he noticed Bradley glancing around, Jean just knew that instinctively, someone like Bradley would want to know the layout of the place he didn't have any choice but to stay.

"Want me to take you around?" Jean asked dryly.

"If you don't mind."

"I don't." Jean wheeled Bradley first to the kitchen. "It's not like I have anything else to do."

"On leave?"

"No, I'm not on leave. I just have a patient to watch at home so I can't go to work."

"Sorry," Bradley said quietly.

"Don't worry about it. The hospital is mine. I have enough professionals on my payroll to do a good job in my absence. Besides, it's the least I can do for getting you shot."

"Now he accepts he got me shot." Bradley drawled as he took in the splendor of Jean's home. "This house is dope." He muttered. "You must be loaded."

"Just have one hell of an architect as a twin that's all." Jean chuckled. Admittedly, he was rich. But the credit for his state-of-art home went to his brother and not the amount of money he had in his bank account.

"This is some shit," Bradley mumbled as he got wheeled from room to room. Jean's home did not just have style, it also screamed wealth.

Sleek lines and hardwood flooring infused the contemporary design with charm and no-fuss elegance. Everything looked opulent from the gleaming wood floors covered in lovely throw rugs to the sheer curtains billowing like mist on the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The furnishings were classically modern and screamed, class. Each area and room in the house melted into the beauty of the next with some delicate settees, elegant fireplaces, lovely pieces of art on the walls, and absolutely fabulous deco. Jean wheeled Bradley to every corner of the house the wheelchair could go. The huge den was actually a game room that had video games, a dartboard, a pool table, and a wet bar. There was a TV room as well which to Bradley, was a mini cinema.

"For obvious reasons, we can't go upstairs," Jean said as he reached out to open a door. "This is you."

Bradley slowly shifted his eyes to glance around. The room was spacious, classy, and had a very appealing warm element. A gentle contrast between blue and white set the tone in the room, giving it a spark of masculine personality. The white and blue drapes added a quick and easy touch of luxury, and the plush blue rug highlighted the rich hardwood beneath. A blue three-seat lounger added to the room's unique and charming appeal. Bradley thought the room's glass closet with its iron panels was absolutely lovely. What blew his mind, however, was the brick fireplace above which a forty-eight-inch LED TV hung.

"This can pass for a hotel room, dude." Bradley chuckled as Jean helped him onto the bed. "So what's upstairs?" He asked, watching as Jean drew the covers over him.

"Typical," Jean muttered under his breath. He wasn't surprised at all that his houseguest had asked that question. "It's just my bedroom, study, and another room."

"What's the other room?"

"None of your fucking business." Jean snapped as he switched on the TV.

"Hey, I need to know the layout of the house. Possible places people can hide." Bradley said quietly. "I would have loved to check it out myself but..." He pointed at his injury. "So just tell me. Is it a bedroom? A library? A..."

"Let's just say it's a...recreational room," Jean responded vaguely.

"Recreational room..." Bradley repeated slowly.

"Yes. A recreational room. Now, where should I leave this thing? News? Sports?"

"Any of the news channels will do just fine. Where are my guns?"

"In there." Jean pointed at the wardrobe. "Want me to bring them for inspection?"

"No." Bradley stared at the newscaster. "Thanks." He added quietly.

"I'm going to bring you some soup for now as you've gone a long while without food." Jean turned to go. "What would you like to eat later?" He paused at the door and turned to look at Bradley just as his cell phone began to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out and smiled at the caller ID. "I have to take this." He said as he brought the phone to his ear. "Mum?" Jean left the room.

Bradley sighed as he stared unseeingly at the newscaster. He still couldn't believe he'd gotten shot. That was the second time he'd caught a bullet. The first time had been in the thigh. In his line of work, it wasn't strange to get hit by a bullet. It was actually seen as a badge of honour. But his latest one was just stupid because it could have been avoided. Now he was just lying in a luxury room in the house of a crazy doctor who had a secret room upstairs.

"Just my luck," Bradley muttered as he checked out the room.

The design and deco of Jean's house were just amazing Bradley couldn't help but acknowledge. Dean was obviously one hell of an architect. He'd also designed Ty's classic glasshouse, which had actually ended up being one of the fifty most unique houses. Bradley didn't live in a magnificent house like Jean or Ty but he was proud of his home. He lived in a condo that was nice and cozy enough for a bachelor. What he loved most about his home was the special luxury security feature since he was almost always out of town due to his work. He was definitely content with what he had and how far he'd come from his terrible beginnings. His twenty-fifth birthday was just around the corner. And Bradley didn't think he'd done badly for himself at all.

Bradley was content with the life he'd been able to build for himself. Considering his underprivileged beginnings and the fact that he'd been thrown out of his home at the young age of fourteen, he'd really come a long way. He'd had to be smart and work hard to earn some money to see himself through school. The best thing that had happened to him was his decision to join the navy. It had given him a sense of purpose. And he loved his team, the dynamic Arrowheads. They were his strength. He hoped his actions weren't going to cost any member of his team their lives.

"Fuck." He swore just as the door opened to reveal Jean with a bowl of hot soup on a bed tray.

"Hey, you're not allowed to be upset?" Jean murmured as he entered. "Doctor's orders." He carefully placed the tray on the table in the room. "Here...let me help you." He helped Bradley sit up so that his back rested against the headboard. Then his placed the bed tray across his thighs.

"Thanks," Bradley murmured as he picked up the spoon. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Hell, no." Jean chuckled. "I ordered it. But I am preparing some pasta and shredded beef sauce. Well, Wendy made the beef sauce. All I have to do is heat it up. But I'm making the pasta. I'll bring it as soon as it's done." He turned to go.

"Hey, I appreciate what you're doing for me," Bradley said quietly but Jean shrugged.

"I did get you shot, remember? As I said, it's the least I can do." With that Jean left the room and gently closed the door.

Bradley stared at the closed door. He'd never felt so guilty in his life. He'd clearly disrupted Jean's life. And he hated being a burden on people. He hoped he healed quickly so that he could get out of Jean's hair. He was beginning to see Jean in a very different light though. Hell, the first time he'd been told that Jean was a doctor, he'd burst into incredulous laughter because the man's actions were definitely not what would be expected of a medical doctor. He'd fucked the most women during Ty's bachelor party. At a point, he'd been in bed with four women. Jean loved to have fun and didn't care what lengths he had to go, to have that fun. But despite the man's crazy nature, he was obviously a very helpful and thoughtful person. Or was he?

By midnight, Bradley was ready to strangle Jean for his thoughtlessness.

"Fucking hell!" Bradley covered his head with a pillow to drown out the cries of whichever girl Jean had in his bed.

They had been at it for three hours straight. The sounds seemed to be coming from a faraway place. It was faint, but it was there. He'd been trained to listen hard to pick up on sounds so it wasn't strange at all that he could hear those sounds. The only thing that stopped Bradley from grabbing his gun was the fact that those sounds were obviously sexual. Couldn't people have sex without screaming, he fumed? To be able to hear those sounds all the way downstairs, that girl was obviously screaming like a banshee. Had Jean forgotten that there was someone else in the house who could hear him? What the fuck! What decent doctor acted that way? Bradley fumed till around one a.m. when the obscene sounds eventually subsided. If only he could get his hands around Jean's neck he thought as he finally drifted off to sleep.