Read Eye of the Burning Man: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Series) for Free Online

Ronnie walked in. He was wearing tight red spandex with blue piping.
    "Ronnie. What a surprise. I should have heard your clothes coming."
    "Callahan, my man," Ronnie said. A slap of the palm. "Are you ready to enter the house of pain?"
    "I'm not sure I'm ready for Sesame Street."
    Ronnie wandered off to get a plastic mat. I ran for two minutes, slowed to a walk for three, and then left the treadmill and dropped onto my back on the mat. Ronnie stretched my hamstrings.
    "Jesus, I am old."
    "Probably the drinking," Ronnie said.
    I heard my right knee snap into place. "Yeah, probably. That also indirectly accounts for the broken nose, the cracked ribs, the bad jaw, and the flattened knuckles. I don't know exactly where the stupidity came from."
    "That part is genetics." Ronnie flipped me over onto the stomach and stretched both legs again. He stopped and eyed a livid, reddish mark on my calf. "I've been meaning to ask you. What the hell is this?"
    "What?"
    "This nasty-ass scar, that's what."
    "It's a long story. Some dumb redneck chased me around with a crossbow a few months ago. He got lucky."
    "Looks like it hurt like hell."
    "It did."
    "What happened to him?"
    "He stopped breathing."
    Ronnie paused for a second, but did not press for details. He slapped me on the back. "Let's get to it."
    We hit the machines briskly, both of us used to the cross-training routine. Moments passed in that odd silence only male friends enjoy, although from time to time we spoke.
    On the leg press, I said: "Funny thing."
    "What?"
    "All the psychology classes I've endured, the books I've read, the papers I've written, the shows I have done on relationships, when it comes to women . . ."
    "I got a Master's, you got a Ph.D. and between us we don't know dick. Move your feet out a little wider, Mick. That's cool. Now what's been going on?"
    I grunted with exertion. "I'm just venting, man. They want you to be strong and tough and protective, right?"
    "Right. Until they don't want you to be strong and protective."
    "And if you are, they get scared."
    Ronnie helped me up and led the way over to the bench press. Over his shoulder: "Is this the part where you explain who the fuck banged up your face last night, and why?"
    I flopped onto the bench and tested the weight of the bar. "I can't answer the 'who' part. I guess the 'why' was for money. I'm not even sure about that."
    "Somebody try to hold you up? Hope it wasn't a brother."
    "Beats the hell out of me . . . and by the way, he did." I took a breath and started fifteen repetitions. Ronnie waited for me to finish, gasping.
    "You're a little weaker today," Ronnie said. "That's probably from the adrenaline. Your muscles are sore. So what happened, Mick?"
    I shrugged but stayed flat on my back. "I don't know. Some idiot in a mask jumped out of the bushes. He had a gun."
    "No shit?"
    I did another fifteen, grunting and expelling air. "It was over in a couple of minutes. That girl I've been seeing? She watched me break dance with the guy. She says it scared her. Now, she doesn't want to see me any more."
    "Man that sucks."
    The last set. "No kidding. I thought she was going to bat her lashes and call me her hero. Instead, I get dumped on my ass."
    "Women," Ronnie said.
    "Women."
    The workout was brisk and efficient. I was in the shower, dressed, and back outside the front door a little over sixty minutes. I paused at the counter to buy something to drink that wasn't laced with suspect herbs or diuretics.
    I noticed an attractive brunette standing outside the entrance. She wore sunglasses. She was dressed in gym shorts pulled up over a pair of dancer's tights, beat-up white tennis shoes with the laces untied. She carried a bottle of water, some tiny headphones, and a sweat towel. She looked good. Suddenly it struck me that she was staring up at the billboard at the back of the parking lot.
    I walked through the doors, intending to be cool, but got a case of nerves. The girl turned to look at me, sunglasses