A STUDY IN BLACK ✓

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Josh followed the girl to another room where Tyler sat on a gurney. His head was thrown back, his breathing heavy. The towel around his waist had been replaced with a pair of white sweatpants, but soap still stuck his hair to his forehead. The girl, who he assumed was Madison, rummaged through a box, pulling out a roll of gauze and a bottle of whiskey.

"Can I get some?" Josh asked.

Madison looked up at him and raised and eyebrow. "Don't have the stomach, mister?"

"I'm a U.S. Soldier, ma'am. I think I can handle a little blood."

The other girl smirked and nudged Josh. "I like this one."

Tyler replied in a different language and the girl laughed before saying goodbye and leaving. Josh raised an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

Madison snapped on a pair of latex gloves and shooed Josh to the back of the room, popping the top of the whiskey bottle. She untied the belt still around Tyler's waist and lifted the bundle of cloth.

"Ready, brother?"

Tyler took in a deep breath and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be, sister."

Before Josh could ask exactly what was going on, Madison tilted the bottle. Tyler flinched hard, nearly kicking Madison, and bit down on his hand. She used a towel to clean around the bullet wound and pressed one of the gauze pads to it.

"The bleeding's stopped, but I can't take the bullet out," she said.

"What? Why?"

Madison looked at him. "Because I own a flower shop, Soldier. Not a hospital."

Tyler snorted and Josh opened his mouth to counter what she said, but decided against it. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from Tyler's hands and took a giant swig. Madison finished patching Tyler up while he and Josh discussed what their next line of action would be.

"Okay, there's a hospital a couple miles down here, but we don't know who's chasing us or why," Josh said. "And you have a bullet in your hip."

Tyler sat up slowly, wincing. "It's Heaven's Templar, obviously. They must've been watching us the moment we stepped foot in Bangladesh."

"But how did they know we were even here?"

Madison pulled out a t-shirt from a drawer and tossed it to Tyler. "They have eyes everywhere, Soldier. Even in your United States."

"My name's Josh," he said. "Not Soldier."

"I like my name better."

Tyler pulled the shirt over his head, hissing in pain the whole time. "Josh, this is Madison. My sister."

"Yeah, no, I deduced that much," Josh drawled. "My only question is why does she sound like a Russian assassin and you don't?"

"Because I'm a master of disguise, Sergeant. If I want to sound American, I can." Tyler switched to a South African accent Josh still couldn't place. "If I want to sound how I normally sound, I can." He switched again to the same thick European accent. "And it's not Russian, it's Romanian."

"You're Romanian." Josh sighed. "Should've guessed."

Tyler smiled and smoothed the shirt out. "Did you really think I was Russian, after I killed a Russian assassin in your kitchen?"

"Fair enough."

Madison made her way to Josh, lifting up the hem of his shirt. "You're bleeding."

Josh had a long, thin gash across his pant leg just above his knee. He inspected it, not having noticed before. It was then that he noticed the faint throbbing though his whole left leg.

"Huh," he said. "The adrenaline must've stopped the pain. I'll be fine."

Madison pushed his shirt up to his armpits, pulling out more gauze. "No, no. If I will not have my brother running around with a bullet in his hip, I will now allow you to be left untreated."

"Work your magic, Doc."

While she cleaned Josh's leg- there was a clean exit wound, so she just stitched him up- Tyler made several calls to people he knew.

Josh was impressed with how easily Tyler could switch between languages. Even when speaking English, he could hold an accents with ease. If he wasn't so insufferable and wasn't an internationally known spy/detective/whatever the hell he was, Josh could see them being them friends.

"Okay, Davis is definitely going to murder me but that doesn't matter because I just got us two tickets back to the U.S.," Tyler said.

"Davis?" Josh asked.

Tyler scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Davis Weekes, the police officer. Do you really have that bad of a memory?"

"I'm pretty sure his name's not Davis."

"Whatever." Tyler waved away Josh's comment. "It doesn't matter what his name is, the only thing that matters is we're going home."

Josh hissed as Madison twisted one of the stitches too tightly. She apologized in what he assumed was Romanian before retying it be and going on to another.

"And what do we do when we get there?" Josh asked. "Tell them that we went to a different country to hunt down an assassin for hire who also happens to be your fiancée and got shot up by the weird cult who probably killed her?"

Tyler's eyes darkened as he glared at Josh. "Jenna is not dead."

Josh pressed his lips together. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just wondering how the hell those guys found us and why the hell they would try to kill us, particularly me."

"Because you're my accomplice now," Tyler said. "I alone am already a threat to their existence. Add someone with your courage and skill set and we make for quite a deadly team."

Josh narrowed his eyes at Tyler, who gazed back with glossy, uninterested eyes.

"My skills?"

"You're a medically discharged soldier with one tour under your belt, secrets missions in and outside of your deployments, and a sniping skill accurate enough to make Chris Kyle jealous. If Heaven's Templar wanted you as one of their own, you must be very valuable."

Josh scowled. "How do you know about the missions? Not even the government knows about those."

Madison paused, staring at Tyler, who wouldn't raise his eyes to meet theirs. "Tyler?"

"It wasn't an accident you ended up in my apartment that night, was it?" Josh asked.