Page 17 of Sin of Silence

Shaun backed up and reached for the door, intent on going back out to the living room. Jozef was across the room so fast she was left gasping as he whirled her around and shoved her against the door.

He didn’t try to use sign language but allowed his stern gaze to speak for him. He had one hand on Shaun’s arm and the other on the door next to her head. His scent, a combination of masculine sweat and leather, made her head spin.

“Please don’t make me sleep with you,” she begged him, her gaze darting past him to the bed.

He growled in frustration and let her go, taking a step back and shoving a hand through his dark hair, making it stand on end.I won’t touch you, but you sleep in here.

She shook her head. “Why do we have to sleep together?”

This is not negotiable, he signed, his hands moving quickly as he conveyed his annoyance.Either you get in the bed or you take the couch. I don’t care which one. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.

Shaun’s head spun as she tried to keep up with his rapid hand movements. Before she finished absorbing the last sentence, he turned away from her, strode back to the fireplace and continued unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it from his shoulders and tossed it on top of his leather jacket on the chair next to the fireplace.

Shaun’s eyes were immediately drawn to the chiseled musculature of his back. It was as brutal as the rest of him, clearly defined muscles shifting as he moved. He had a black phoenix rising up his inked back, its wings stretched out across each of his shoulders, its beak pointing down. Her gaze strayed to the small round marks at the bottom of his back, near his spine. Bullet holes.

It hit her exactly how far out of her depth she was. Shaun had always thought of herself as a street savvy woman. She'd grown up with affluent parents and the perks of their jobs, but she hadn’t been sheltered. As a black woman, living in a predominantly Caucasian city, she’d experienced some racism in school. At the hospital she’d worked on all kinds of different wounds and illnesses. In her work with Doctors Without Borders, she’d seen and treated horrific injuries. But none of that had prepared her for what she’d experienced at Jozef’s hands.

Jozef finished undressing, unbuckling his pants and sliding them down his strong thighs. He stepped out of them and tossed them over the same chair. He touched the waistband of his boxer briefs, paused and glanced at Shaun, then dropped his hands, leaving them on.

Though Shaun had seen many naked bodies in her work as a doctor, this one was different. This one was dangerous. His flesh was marked with knife and bullet wounds. She traced them with her eyes, wondering how he came by each scar. One particular puckered bullet wound drew her attention and she slowly walked toward him, her eyes glued to his back.

He turned, looking at her suspiciously as she approached him. She hadn’t willingly gone to him once since he kidnapped her. But this was different; this was something she knew. Something she understood.

She tentatively touched his shoulder and tried to turn him around. He resisted, but eventually half-turned and moved his head so that he could keep his gaze on her. She brushed her finger across the middle of his back, just over the wound, tracing it, feeling it. Gooseflesh raised across his skin where she touched. It was a brutal scar, one that probably took months to heal.

"How did you survive?" Shaun asked quietly. "This is right over your heart. It should've killed you instantly or driven a shattered rib into the organ."

He turned from her, pulling away from her touch. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed a hand over his tired face. She thought maybe he wouldn't answer, but he finally looked up at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers.

The bullet entered my back from the side rather than straight in. It glanced off my rib, exited through my side and entered here, lodging in my arm.

He lifted his arm and pointed at the skin on the underside of his bicep. For a few brief seconds, Shaun was distracted by the bulge of his muscles ? sweet Jesus this man was ripped ? but then she saw the small entry wound in his arm.

"You were very lucky," she murmured, stepping away from him, suddenly realizing her proximity to the killer.

He shook his head.I didn’t feel lucky.

Shaun gave him a tired smile. "I imagine you probably didn't."

They looked at each other for an uncomfortable minute. Captor and captive. Shaun knew that she must never relax her guard. She was quite literally residing in a den of thieves.

"I'll sleep on the couch." She inserted a colder note into her voice and turned swiftly away from Jozef. Before she could walk away from him though, he reached out and snatched her hand, pulling her back.

Shaun glanced at him fearfully, afraid he'd changed his mind about sharing a bed with her. Instead, he released her hand and reached behind him, gathering up a blanket and pillow, pushing them into her arms. He pointed at the couch, which was sitting to the right of the fireplace at the end of the bed. It would make for a cozy warm place to sleep. Shaun had slept in worse places; she wasn’t going to complain.

Shaun held the bedding against her and walked to the couch, sinking into the cushions. It was comfortable enough, though not very long. She would have to sleep on her side with her legs curled up. Hopefully, it wouldn't take long for her to get out of there. She had absolutely no intention of actually marrying the mobster, which left her two options: escape or be rescued.

She heard Jozef rustling around, then the light went out and minutes later his deep snores filled the room. She was amazed that he was able to actually fall asleep with a person he barely knew in the same room. Not just any person, but a surgeon who knew dozens of ways to make him die before he could ever touch her. Either he was ridiculously unflappable, or he was just that tired.

Shaun stared at the door, then back at Jozef’s form on the bed. He was bathed in shadows and flickering firelight. She could leave. Just walk out the door and try to leave the premises. She gripped the edge of the couch as she thought about it, then shook her head and forced her body to relax. She was physically and mentally exhausted, in no shape to launch an escape attempt. She was confident she wouldn’t make it out the front door. Jozef seemed like an extremely vigilant man, and there would be security all over the place. No, what she needed to do was sleep, regain her strength and mental faculties. Then she’d think her way out of this situation.

Shaun set the pillow on the end of the couch, curled onto her side and dragged the blanket over her body. She stared at the glowing embers of the fireplace until her eyelids grew heavy and sleep claimed her.

Chapter Twelve

Dasha fussed relentlessly until Krystoff finally gathered her against his chest. “Stop, Wife,” he murmured against her rich chestnut hair. “I promise, I won’t disappear if you stop touching me.”

Rather than feeling comforted, Dasha burst into tears and sobbed into his shirt while he held her, running his hand over her smooth hair. “I know!” she wailed. “But they cut off your finger, Krysto!”

---