“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 bycleanup, 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.
