Libby crossed the room and rolled up the window blind. I squinted at the bright light, then moaned and scratched furiously at the skin surrounding the burn.
“What’s wrong?”
I extended my leg so Libby could see the burn. “I got hurt in a motorcycle accident a couple of weeks ago. Burned real bad. It itches so much that it’s driving me crazy. I hope it isn’t getting infected.”
Libby bent over to examine my leg. I flinched and groaned when she gently touched the wound, hamming it up for all I was worth. “Maybe we should have the doctor take a look at that,” she suggested.
I suppressed my triumphant grin. “I don’t think Ripper would want that man to touch me, not unless he was there to make sure the doctor stayed in line.”
“I get it. You never know with those people. I’ve been spotting, and we’re worried about the baby. Boyd always stays close when the doctor examines me. Do you have any shorts?” I nodded. Hannah and I had cut the legs off a pair of mom jeans. “Why don’t you get dressed while I fetch Ripper?”
When Libby left the room, I threw on the short shorts and a pink tank top. I tugged the top down over my cutoffs, making sure it wouldn’t ride up and reveal my welts. They were too easy to misinterpret, and I didn’t want anybody to ogle or comment on them.
Libby returned a few minutes later, Ripper in tow. They found me sitting on the edge of the bed, my lower lip trembling with false worry and pain. “It really hurts, baby. I think it might be infected.”
Ripper squatted next to the bed and pretended to examine the burn. He whistled. “Shit. It does feel warm.” It didn’t. “Guess I gotta let that man examine you.”
Tuck appeared in the doorway. “Something wrong?”
“Mac’s burn might be getting infected. Gonna have the doctor check it out.”
Tuck bent over my leg, frowning. “How’d she get burned?” When he reached out to touch my skin, I instinctively drew back.
Ripper pushed Tuck’s hand away. “Pipes burned her leg when I laid the bike down.”
Tuck lifted his brows and opened his mouth. I suspected that he was going to make some snarky comment about how Ripper let me get hurt. He did like to needle Ripper. Fortunately, he thought better of it. “It’s a pain in the ass to take off the doctor’s shackles. Best we go to him.” He dug in his pocket for the key. We followed him to the opposite end of the hall. Tuck unlocked the door and led the way in.
“Time to earn your keep, boy,” he called to Sahdev, who sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall.
Sahdev opened his eyes, and his gaze moved from Tuck to Ripper. Not a flicker of recognition crossed his face.
Ripper crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Sahdev. “My old lady has a burn on her leg that’s itching something fierce. Think it might be infected. I want you to check it out, but no funny business, you feel me? I’m not taking my eyes off you.”
My lungs constricted, and I leaned against the door frame, trying to catch my breath. Sahdev had to know that Ripper was playing a part, that his contempt was a ruse, but still, my soul shriveled at the disrespectful words directed at our friend.
“I understand,” Sahdev said, his voice scratchy. If the brigade was bringing him food and water only once a day, he had to be thirsty. I could fix that.
“He needs to wash his hands before he touches me. I’ll be right back.” I shuffled to the kitchen—hamming up my injury—and grabbed a stainless steel bowl, liquid dish soap, and three bottles of water that I wrapped in a hand towel. Returning to the room, I handed everything to Ripper, then turned to Tuck, forcing myself to touch his arm.
“You’re sure he’s a real doctor?” I asked. The tremor in my voice was genuine, although I knew Tuck would misinterpret it. As soon as Tuck turned his back on Sahdev, Ripper nodded at me and slid a bottle of water underneath his pillow. Thank God he understood what I was up to.
Ripper poured the second bottle into the basin and squeezed soap onto Sahdev’s hands. Once Sahdev finished washing, Ripper handed him a towel. He set the basin and the third bottle of water on a dresser. With any luck, Tuck wouldn’t think to carry it all back to the kitchen, leaving Sahdev with two bottles of water to drink.
Ripper dragged a desk chair across the room, placed it next to the bed, then held out a hand toward me. “His hands are clean now. Sit down and let the doc check out your burn.”
I sat and extended my leg onto the bed. Bending over, Sahdev spent several minutes examining the injury.
“How long ago did this happen?” he asked, playing dumb.
“About two weeks ago,” Ripper replied.
“Two weeks.” Sahdev repeated, furrowing his brow. “It should have healed more in that time. I’m concerned by the color. I don’t suppose you have any antibiotics in the house? Or at least, an antibiotic ointment?”
“Not a clue,” Tuck said.
“Would you mind checking?” Ripper glanced at Tuck. “Maybe somebody left some antibiotics in a medicine cabinet.”
Tuck winked at me. “Gotta take care of our sweet thang. I’m on it.”
Sweet thang. I’d never again hear that endearment without shuddering.
I smiled up at him. “Thanks, Tuck. I really appreciate how nice you are to me.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
Tuck’s footsteps retreated down the hall. Ripper gripped Sahdev’s shoulder. “Hang in there, doc. We’re gonna get you outta here. You and Bear. And we’re gonna take Valhalla back from these fuckers.”
“I never doubted you’d come for me,” Sahdev said in a low, weary voice.
“You sacrificed yourself to save Mac and Hannah. That’s a debt I can never repay. I owe you forever.”
Sahdev shook his head. “No. No debt. We’re family, and that’s what family does for each other.”
“Sahdev,” I whispered, my heart breaking that we’d have to leave him in shackles.
“It’s all right, Kenzie.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be fine.”
Tuck’s whistle signaled his return. “Score.” He brandished a small white tube. “Antiseptic cream with built-in pain reliever.”
“Thanks, man.” Ripper held out his hand. “I’ll rub it on.” He squeezed some ointment onto his fingertips and spread it over my wound, then glanced dismissively at Sahdev. “Think we’re done with him.”
“Yep,” Tuck agreed.
Without a backward glance at our friend, we walked from the room. Tuck locked the door and slipped the key into the back pocket of his jeans.
The men strode side by side up the hall, and I had to scamper to keep up with them. I tugged on Ripper’s arm. “Libby wants me to help her clean up after breakfast, and then she promised to show me the chicken coop and garden. That goo you spread on my burn has already made the pain go away. Is it okay if I help Libby?”
Ripper glanced over his shoulder at me. “Go ahead. You gotta earn your keep.” Since Tuck’s back was turned, I stuck out my tongue, a simple act of defiance that made my mealy-mouthed, complacent act much easier to swallow.
Libby had already washed the breakfast dishes. She gratefully sat down at the kitchen table, resting her swollen feet, while I dried and put the dishes away.