Shaun balked, catching sight of the man who’d argued with Jozef about killing her in the basement. She’d learned his name was Havel and, judging from the way he spoke to Jozef, he was some kind of enforcer or second-in-command.
Havel glanced at her then swiftly turned away, a cigarette clenched between his teeth. Jozef walked into her back when she stopped suddenly. His hands landed on her hips, steadying her as she was jolted forward. She glanced back at him, but his gaze went past hers and landed on someone else.
Shaun followed his line of sight.
An older man, his hair and beard grey and unwashed, was sitting slumped in a chair next to a fireplace. The light from the fire cast shadows over his body. He was big, probably quite imposing when standing. He was holding a hand to his face, and his other hand, which was bandaged, rested in his lap. The bandage concerned Shaun. Did they want her to help yet another prisoner? Was she about to go through the same scenario as the basement? Patching up a man just so this motley crew could torture and kill him.
She didn’t think that was what was happening here. The man was in a deferential spot, near the fire with a blanket on his lap, sitting in a leather armchair. He seemed to be an important man. Perhaps the uncle Jozef had mentioned in the forest.
When Shaun and Jozef entered the room, the man looked up at them with a kind of tired curiosity reflected in his gaze. He had sharp blue eyes, the same shade as Jozef’s. As they passed over Shaun, they narrowed in speculation.
She thought she understood. Not only did she stand out as a stranger and a foreigner in what she suspected was a tight-knit group, but she was black. Her skin colour set her apart from every person in the room, and most people in Ukraine. She wasn’t usually self-conscious, either about her skin colour or anything else, but when every eye in the room landed on her, she felt her cheeks burn in response.
She shifted slightly to lean back against Jozef. In this room filled with criminals, he was the only one she knew for sure wasn’t prepared to shoot her. Everyone else had varying expressions of skeptical, impatient and downright nasty. She really, really didn’t want to be the focus of attention anymore. Jozef, whose hand was still on her hip, gave her a gentle squeeze, which surprised her. So far in all of her dealings with him, he hadn’t shown a gentle bone in his body. Yet, he seemed to be trying to reassure her, which had the opposite effect. She now knew that she should be very afraid of the man sitting by the fire.
It was the older man who finally broke the silence. “You’re a doctor?” He spoke English, but his accent was thick, as though he didn’t do it often.
“Yes,” she said, a little hesitantly. Obviously, he meant her since there wasn’t anyone else in the room wearing scrubs.
“I think my nephew wishes for you to look me over before we leave for our next destination.” His gaze flickered past her shoulder to land on Jozef. “Complete nonsense, but the boy is stubborn. Won’t leave until I’ve been properly inspected.”
Jozef being likened to a boy felt completely incongruous. There was nothing young and cute about him. He was all man with a good dose of terrifying. The older gentleman was looking at Jozef through the lens of family. So he was the uncle that Jozef had told her about when he told her that they would have to be married.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” he barked, losing patience. “Let’s get this over with. Everyone out. Jozef and the girl can stay.”
Shaun hated being called a ‘girl’. It was demeaning and completely inappropriate for a woman of her education and profession. Ordinarily, she would correct him by telling him she preferred her name, or if he must use a noun, then woman. She kept her silence though, not ready to antagonize him.
Jozef pushed Shaun farther into the room, making space by the door for the others to leave. The woman who had brought food and water to Shaun earlier in the day glanced at her as she passed. Her expression was pitying, which made Shaun wonder what exactly she was in for. She stiffened her spine. It didn’t matter. She was a medical professional, and she would treat Jozef’s uncle as she would any other patient. What happened to her after was irrelevant.
She was a doctor; her job was to heal.
Once everyone had left and the door was closed, she walked to the fireplace. She glanced around and, spotting a stool, pulled it closer. As she sank down, seating herself in front of him, she asked softly, “What’s your name?”
He stared at her; his sharp gaze somewhat malevolent. She hoped this was his default expression and that he wasn’t using it on her in particular. Because if he really felt toward her the way his expression was leaning, then she wouldn’t survive the night.
“You do not need to know my name to look at my wound, divka.” His voice was deep and guttural as he stumbled over his English.
She shrugged, and said in slow, halting Ukrainian, “I ask the names of all my patients.” She reached for his hand, going for his obvious injury first. “It makes it easier to ask them how they feel, where it hurts, how they were injured.”
He didn’t pull away as she unraveled the gauze bandage, pulling it first away from his hand, then his finger. She sank her teeth into her lip to stop the gasp that tried to fly out when she saw the damage inflicted on him. She lifted her gaze to meet his and was awed by the blank look he was giving her in return. They could have been at a tea party for all the indication of pain he was giving. He did not have the look of a man who had been tortured within the last several days.
“You are very brave,” he said mockingly, switching to Ukrainian. “You speak Ukrainian badly and are not shy to put me in my place. You must be very sure of yourself.”
“I’m completely terrified, actually, but as you are now my patient, I want you to be comfortable while I treat your injury. I thought you would be more comfortable speaking Ukrainian.”
He inclined his head toward her, his deep blue gaze taking on a thoughtful look.
She tugged his hand further away from his body, resting it on her knees, and inspected it in the firelight. She twisted around and said to Jozef, “I need more light, please.”
Jozef nodded and reached behind himself to flick on the light. He strode to the window to draw the heavy curtains across, blocking any view of them from the street. The wound on her patient’s finger was straight and even, as though it had been cut with scissors or hedge clippers. The cut was infected though and most likely quite painful. Puss oozed from the stump and the skin around the wound was white instead of a healthy pink. The instrument that had taken the finger had probably been dirty and the wound most likely hadn’t been sterilized after.
“Your wound is closing, but it’s infected. You need antibiotic ointment, a fresh bandage and a round of strong antibiotics.”
Shaun jumped as a bag landed next to her on the floor. She leaned over and opened it, immediately recognizing an array of medical aides. She glanced up at Jozef, who stood behind her chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d taken his leather coat off. She could now see the tattoos that ran all the way up his corded arms. The sleeves of his T-shirt were stretched taut across the muscles of his arms. She’d seen firsthand the strength those arms carried when he lifted the man from the basement off the floor.
She refocused on her patient, opening the first-aid kit wider and inspecting the contents. She pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment, a gauze bandage, some tape and a pair of gloves. Pulling the gloves on, she set about tending to her patient. She was careful and methodical, making sure the man who might hold her life in his hands would have no complaint about her care of him. At first, the room was silent while she worked. After a few minutes she felt his gaze lift from the top of her bent head to Jozef, who was still standing behind her.