Page 10 of The Criminal’s Cure

“Madison.” My body shakes as someone calls my name. “Madison, hey, wake up.”

When I open my eyes, it’s pitch black. I take a second to adjust, blinking at Roman’s imposing frame in the shadows, standing next to my bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” I scramble up, backing away from him as I clutch the bedsheets. Panic grips my chest, and it tightens so much that I have to fight to catch my breath.

“It’s okay.” He holds his hands up. “It’s just me.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. You were sleeping pretty hard.”

“Yes, because it’s the middle of the night.

” I groan, glancing at the clock. I feel like I barely fell asleep, and I probably did since I got stuck at the hospital so late.

The house was quiet when I got back, everyone tucked into their beds, so the last thing I expected was to see Roman standing in my bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I need you,” he says, pausing a beat longer than necessary, no doubt to let my mind wander with his words.

“One of my men got hurt tonight.”

That jolts me awake. So far, I haven’t had to fulfill the other part of my job description for Roman, but it looks like that’s about to change. His lack of detail has my mind swirling with possibilities as I climb out of bed. At this time of night, I know it won’t be good.

Roman grabs my sweatshirt off the chair in the corner, tossing it to me. “Better get dressed. We’re going to the warehouse.”

“What about Ty?” I ask.

“Joe’s here in case he needs anything.”

Roman steps outside so I can change. A soft knock comes practically seconds later. He must be anxious. “Madison? Ready?”

“All set.” I follow him into the hallway, down the stairs, and out to the garage. He opens the door to his truck for me, and soon we’re on our way.

“What happened?” I ask as I pull my hair up into a high ponytail. It’s not the hairnet I’d wear in the operating room, but it’ll do.

“Don’t know much yet. He was on a job tonight and there was some sort of altercation.”

“What kind of job?” The question is out of my mouth before I really even know what I’m saying.

Roman eyes me carefully. “You really want to know?”

“No, actually. I don’t think I do.” I think we’ll all be better off if I just adopt an ignorance-is-bliss policy for the next six months. A don’t ask, don’t tell type thing. Curiosity churns inside of me, but the more I know, the more trouble I’ll wind up in.

He chuckles. ”Didn’t think so.”

I do at least have to know what I’m working with, so I keep the questions focused on my work. “Is it a gunshot wound?”

Roman shakes his head. “Just a stab wound.”

Just . Every time I feel even the slightest bit normal around Roman, I get slapped in the face with a harsh dose of reality.

A few hours ago, we were making quesadillas and talking about the weather, and now he’s whisking me away in the middle of the night, minimizing a stab wound his buddy got while committing a crime.

The warehouse isn’t far, and we’re there quickly. More men than I would have imagined at this time of night are gathered around a table at the center of the room, almost like it’s a party. It’s noisy and crowded and I can barely see the injured man sitting front and center.

He’s got the attention of every man in the group as he sips from his highball glass, regaling them all with the details of his night.

“And the motherfucker pulls out his knife. Gets me straight across, just above my knee, but I pull my gun and blow his brains all over the damn dock.”

The other guys erupt into laughter and cheers. There are guns and empty alcohol bottles strewn all across the tables, and no one bats an eye.

Great. Roman pulled me out of bed in the middle of the night to wrangle a bunch of drunk idiots and stitch up a knife wound on a guy who’s a very explicit story teller.

Roman stiffens next to me, completely put off and unimpressed by the story. Almost offended.

“Enough!” The scowl on his face shuts up every man in the room, and he demands their attention.

“This is Dr. Taylor, and she’ll be working with us for the next few months.

She’s here to check on Russ, and if any of you so much as glance at her with anything other than utter respect and appreciation, then you’ll be meeting a similar fate as Russ’s buyer tonight.

And cool it with the language in front of her. Everybody clear?”

They all nod, most afraid to move a muscle without his permission. Everyone is quiet, and a few scramble up to clean up a bit of the mess. There is no question who is in charge, and the way he commands the room and orders around men twice his age is as hot as it is unnerving.

“Good. Now get back to work. It sounds like we’ve got cleanup to do.”

Roman doesn’t elaborate on what he means by cleanup , but based on Russ’s story, I’ve got a good idea. The group disperses and Roman leads me to the table.

There’s a cart full of supplies ready for use. “Everything you need should be right here, but if there’s something missing, then let me know and we can get it for you.”

I’m not sure I want to know where these hospital grade materials came from, but as long as I didn’t have to steal it, it’s not my business.

“Dr. Taylor, this is Russ.” He gestures to the glassy eyed man.

Russ gets a sloppy, drunk smile on his face and straightens in the chair. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“When Roman said he was hiring a new doctor, I pictured an old, fat guy, but you’re a delightful surprise.”

Irritation flickers in Roman’s eyes. “Enough with the small talk. It’s the middle of the night and we’re all tired. Just show her your fucking leg so we can get out of here.”

“You got it, boss.” Russ stands up, struggling to work his jeans up over his knee as Roman steps a few feet away to talk to Dante. Even at a distance, I still feel the weight of his stare on me as I work.

“Why don’t we put this away for now, too?” I suggest, sliding the whiskey out of his reach as he sits back down.

“Aw come on. It’s a cheap painkiller.”

“It’s also thinning out your blood, which will make it harder for me to stop the bleeding and stitch you up.”

“Oh, beauty and brains. Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles, leaning back in the chair as I put on some gloves. He props his leg up on the table so I have a better view.

For the most part, the cut has stopped bleeding, but it’s nasty. Dirty, jagged, and about five inches long, right across the inside of Russ’s knee. “How did you say you got this?”

“The guy I was delivering to tonight,” Russ says. “Didn’t like the price, I guess. Guy’s lucky he got any piece of me at all before I put the bullet through his head. Chicks dig scars, anyway, right?”

He shoots me a skeevy wink that makes my skin crawl.

I know next to nothing about the type of things these guys are into, but I know wounds, and his story doesn’t add up. Blades usually cut clean, especially if Russ was swiped the way he said he was. The wound is so jagged it looks more like the skin tore.

“Do you still have the knife?” I ask.

Russ tosses it up onto the counter, and the shiny metal glistens in the harsh factory lighting. It’s clean, not a single drop of blood on it, which doesn’t make sense for how grimy and dirty the wound is..

I don’t know that I even want to involve myself, and the wound will be easy enough to treat without knowing how it really happened. I glance up at Roman, but he’s still deeply engrossed in his conversation with Dante, and I let the thought die.

“I know a place where we can get some good drinks after this…” Russ slurs. “What do you think?”

Roman steps closer, still listening to Dante, but not too far to eavesdrop on us and he doesn’t look happy.

“What I think is, if you put half as much energy into your job tonight as you are into hitting on me, then we might not be in this situation.” I look up at him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Roman smirk, relaxing back into his conversation with Dante, content with the way I handled myself.

Russ lets out a gruff sigh and tilts his head back. “How long do you think this is going to take?”

“Not long,” I say, reaching for saline and some gauze to clean the wound out. Once it’s flushed, I cut back some of the dead skin and start to stitch him up. It takes about ten minutes, and then I put a bandage over the top for the time being.

Russ hasn’t said much, but he has to get in one last shot.

“Don’t be afraid to check me out a little higher, Doc. I think I’m having some residual pain—”

Without warning, Roman’s next to us. His hands violently cinch around the man’s neck and he sputters for air.

“What the fuck did I say about disrespecting Dr. Taylor, Russ?” Roman growls. “Huh?”

“Jesus, Roman. It was a joke.” He rubs at his throat once Roman lets him loose.

“Well, it wasn’t fucking funny. You’ve been giving her a hard time the entire time she’s been working on you.

Dr. Taylor is here in the middle of the night to take care of your sorry ass because you’re so incompetent at your job that you went and got yourself knifed.

Not to mention you left your DNA all over a crime scene…

the cops would haul you to jail if you had to go into the hospital.

So I’d suggest you keep the jokes to yourself from now on, yeah? ”

“Yeah, absolutely. Sorry Dr. Taylor.”

Roman’s reaction rattles me, and I stand in shock for a second. Russ is obnoxious, but even I know he’s just playing around. What the hell just happened?

“It’s okay,” I finally say, my voice shaking. Quickly, I turn my back to the two men to avoid the tension and clean things up.

I purposely tune out the conversation that they have, and after a few minutes, Roman and I are both ready to go.

“Sorry about Russ,” he says once we get in the truck. “Some of these guys aren’t used to having women around and they forget how to act. I’ll be sure anyone you treat is the pillar of respect from now on.”

“Like you?” It’s hard to hide the snark in my voice. It’s funny to listen to Roman talk about respect when a few days ago he forcibly kidnapped me. Granted, things have been different since, but that’s the pot calling the kettle black, if I’ve ever heard it.

“Fair.” Roman chuckles, arm draped over the steering wheel as he winds through the dark roads. “Although, I will say it’s kind of impressive the way you hold your own like you do. I don’t think Russ has ever been spoken to like you did tonight, and it serves him right.”

“I’m used to it.” I shrug.

“How so?”

“Well, trauma surgery is a pretty male-dominated field. My dad is the head of trauma for an entire network of hospitals in St. Louis. And I’ve got two older brothers. I grew up around arrogant men who think the rules don’t apply to them.”

“I guess that’s why you and I get along so well.” Roman’s mouth slants into a taunting smirk.

“I’m not sure I’d say we get along.”

“Ouch.” He chuckles, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “And here I thought you and I had a budding friendship, Doc.”