Page 193 of Bad Blood

“The list.” Dax runs a hand over his face.

“It’s what set everything in motion. I needed you to distract him and get new evidence that I could show to Luca to get Kline put on leave so I could record his confession while I waited for the cops to arrive,” I say in one long breath. “I didn’t think it through very well.”

“We shouldn’t have helped. None of this would have happened.”

“I would have figured out another way. Your suggestion to include Liam just took out the extra steps.” I chuckle and instantly regret it when a shooting pain surges through my ribs.

“Is anything broken?” He holds out his hands to touch me but never does, the fear that he may hurt me clear in his eyes.

“No. Just bruised. How are you?” I tap his swollen fingers, and he pulls his arm away from me, not letting me sidetrack us from what we’re discussing.

“What were you thinking?”

“That if I could get him to see all the evidence I had, he would confess. I didn’t expect him to lash out.” The thought of him attacking me after I met the detectives flashes into my mind, and I don’t know why I thought he’d react any differently this time, especially considering everything I have against him.

“And others were in on it?”

“Luca, Hudson, Lauren, you guys. I couldn’t give everyone the same details. I needed each part to play off the next, and it worked out better than I could have imagined.”

“By him doing this.” He brushes a wisp of hair off my neck, tracing his finger along the red scuff on my cheek.

I do my best to ignore him and stuff all my things back into my purse, stopping when my eyes land on Hudson’s card. “He needs a statement.”

“Please, let me help you.” He takes the card and stuffs it into his back pocket.

“I don’t need you to. He’s on leave because of the malpractice. He got arrested because of the assault. And he can’t hurt anyone else because of us.”

“Was it worth it?” His eyes land on the bruises again, and he lifts a hand but stops without touching me.

I readjust, pulling my scrub top so it conceals some of the marks. I need his attention elsewhere. “Look, I can’t change how things played out. And that is the least of my worries. I want to help you.”

“I knew this conversation would end up here.” He stands and paces in front of the leather sofa, his eyes downcast. He readjusts the strap from the sling on his neck and tries to find the right words. “Did you know?”

“No.”

“Is it true?”

I don’t answer. From what I saw in Dax’s file—yes. From what I feel in my gut—absolutely.

“Is that a yes?”

“I think you should get a second opinion.” This is not what he wants to hear, but it’s all I’ve got. There is a less than .00001 percent chance that both mouth swabs and the blood test are incorrect. But that’s enough of a chance to hold out hope. And I’m going to give it to him. Whether or not I know it won’t matter.

“So, there’s a chance we’re not brothers,” he says, matter-of-fact. His shoulders sag, and he stops pacing. “Did you know?”

“Not until after Liam’s appointment.” I shake my head and close the distance between us, taking his limp hand in mine.

“What are we supposed to do?” His stare is vacant when our eyes meet as if he’s been beating himself up over the outcome of this conversation for hours.

“This doesn’t affect Liam’s treatment.” I take his face in both hands. “He’s going to be okay. There are other options—”

“But I can’t help him.”

I hang my head. “Get the other test . . .”

“Do you think it’ll make a difference?”

“No.”

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