Page 43 of Bad Blood

He grabs the glazed chocolate-cake donut I was going for and stuffs it into his mouth, giving me a wicked smile.

The unfrosted cake donut is the only one left in the box worth grabbing, and I do so out of frustration. Kline knows that was my donut. Every time he brings a box, which has become a lot more frequent as of late, he lets me know he grabbed one just for me.

I readjust the stethoscope around my neck and glance at my waistline. I drop the donut back in the box—no point in settling for seconds when boss-man stole the only one worth the calories.

I scoot my chair back and stand, pointing toward the door. “Your office or mine?”

“Yours is closer,” he mumbles through a mouthful as he grabs his coffee mug and takes a swig, washing down the donut. “Grab the charts from yesterday. I have a couple of questions about one of the recent cases you—”

“One of my cases?” I interrupt, perturbed that he’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Why does he want to be in my office? It’s right across the hall from his. It’s not like being in mine is any easier unless he wants to be in there for some other reason. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. I need some clarification.” He pats Luca on the back as he slips past him and out the door. “I’ll meet you in there.”

Linley Scott, Mr. Hodges, Ms. Phillips, countless others—Liam.

Shit.

He knows.

Not a single other case raises a red flag.

A couple of stragglers watch me as I postpone my meeting with Kline by any means possible. A couple of mugs go into the sink before I drop some loose papers and watch them flutter into the trash. The last couple of staff members pretend not to watch, but I can feel their eyes drilling into my back. I hate how he puts me on the spot in front of my peers, especially the nurses. His deliberate need to make sure I know my place gets under my skin. I try to keep my temper in check and glance at Lauren out of the corner of my eye.

She grabs the box of remaining donuts and slides them across the counter near the sink. “Don’t forget you have a patient at eight.” She washes and rinses the mugs, setting them on a towel.

My palms are clammy, chest tight. I don’t want to go out there, but I don’t think I can stall for much longer.

The hallway is full of cops.

Detectives. Badges. Handcuffs. Uniforms.

I bite my lower lip, scolding myself with the last thought. Uniforms are nice, but it’s a specific person occupying said uniform that gets under my skin. I shouldn’t let that cloud my perspective of them. Not all of them are like him. And it doesn’t look like he’s here.

My body temperature rises, and I try to fight off memories of the ex. A run-in with that cheating asshole would be the icing on the cake.

“Of all the ways to start the day,” I mumble, refusing to glance back over my shoulder. If he is here, which is likely, as long as I don’t see him, I can convince myself he doesn’t exist.

Everything is okay.

Everything.

Is.

Okay.

I repeat my mantra as I walk across the hall with my head tucked—the last thing I need is to make eye contact, but I suck at being inconspicuous. I walk across the hall, past a group of nurses, and bump into a body. A rock-hard-doesn’t-budge body. I pinch my eyes closed, praying it’s not the ex.

Two powerful hands grip my arms, keeping me upright. “You okay?”

I pry one eye open, and a swell of relief floods through me. No uniform. I gaze over his pressed khakis and maroon button-up. He cleaned up nicely. My body deceives me as heat flushes to my cheeks because of my two left feet and the need to disappear. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Do you have a minute?” Hudson focuses on my name stitched above the breast pocket of my lab coat. At least I was able to clean up and change. A shiver races through me at the memory of all that blood. Keeping a set of scrubs in my office is something I swore I’d never do, but sadly, it’s come in handy more times than I’d like to count.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles and takes a step back. His hands find purchase on his gun and cuffs. It doesn’t look like he’s trying to be intimidating. Seems more like a habit. “Everyone’s on edge. Do you have a minute for a couple more questions?”

“Did you find something?” I wrinkle my brow, not sure what he needs, but curious. I give him an annoyed smile and motion toward my office.

---