Page 57 of Torched Spades
Maybe it is. Hell, maybe I’m using Johnny to punish myself. Maybe the rush I get from letting him dominate me isn’t sexual at all. Maybe it’s my way of paying penance to my mother. For letting her down. For allowing her killer to walk free while my father paid some bitch to play Scrabble with my head.
Jack cradles his coffee cup. “So what’s this guy’s story?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Right… Doctor/patient confidentiality.” He stares into his coffee as if it holds all the answers. God, I wish it did. He has no idea how much. But Johnny Malone is a problem that neither caffeine nor the cavalry can solve. Finally, Jack looks up at me, his eyebrows drawn together. “He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”
I think about his question for a moment. About the bruise on my chin. About the way Johnny made me beg for mercy before letting me come. About the way he grabbed my throat just hard enough to make my heart slam against my chest. It all flirted on the edge of “hurting me” without tipping over the edge of violence.
Maybe that’s it.
Maybe I’m not addicted to Johnny as much as the adrenaline rush of knowing it could all change in an instant. His volatile mood could swing the opposite direction, and instead of kissing my neck, he could snap it.
“No,” I lie, looking away. “He doesn’t hurt me. He…” My voice trails off as I catch a flash of dark hair and arrogance out of the corner of my eye.No… It can’t be. The words repeat on a continual loop in my head as I slide to the edge of the booth. Just as I go to stand, Jack’s strong hand grabs my wrist, pinning it against the Formica.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I-I thought we were done.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Done? You were just about to walk out on me mid-sentence.”
“Jack…”
“Okay, Becca, you want full disclosure on why your father sent me to talk to you? Fine. Your father thinks he knows who your mystery patient is, and I hope to God for your sake he’s wrong.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront before, but cops have the same confidentiality clauses psychiatrists do. I could lose my job over this, but you trusted me just now, so I’ll trust you.” I roll his cryptic admission around in my head as he clears his throat. “I know who this patient is because your father stood in line behind him at the pharmacy two weeks ago. Apparently, you forgot to send a refill on a prescription or something, and let’s just say the tech didn’t understand volume control.”
“Two weeks ago? But that’s…” However, even as I say the word, my mind has already stalled out in a dive bar where a man who doesn’t seem to understand he’s not welcome in my life showed back up in it, asking questions, making demands, referencing my patients, andpointing out my bruise… “That son of a bitch. He already knew.”
He holds up his hands. “In the spirit of full transparency, I knew about Johnny Malone before he did.”
“You what?” I don’t know what stops my heart more—his confession or hearing him speak Johnny’s name.
He scowls. “Believe me; it’s an unfortunate coincidence. If I could, I’d go back in time and pawn that bastard off on another detective. A few weeks ago, we got a report of gunfire at the port docks. I did some digging and found out only three warehouse employees were scheduled to work the area the shots allegedly came from. Your patient was one of them.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you he can be quite uncooperative.”
Yeah, and water is wet.
I can tell he’s waiting for me to say more, or at least play his game of “fill in the blanks,” but even if I weren’t bound by ethics, I still couldn’t.
I remember Johnny telling me about his “altercation” at the docks when I confronted him at the warehouse. However, I have no clue what he told Jack, and one wrong word from me could contradict his entire story. Legally and morally, I know I should confess, but something won’t let me.
More likesomeone.
I try to catch another glimpse of the dark-haired man out of the corner of my eye, but with Jack watching me so closely, there’s not much I can see.I hope you’re worth this, Malone.
Sitting up straight, I force myself to look Jack in the eye. “Well, Detective, congratulations, you’ve not only invaded my private life, but you’ve also infiltrated my professional one. Yes, Johnny Malone is a patient of mine, and by law, that’s all I’m required to tell you.”
“Why are you so hellbent on protecting him?”
“Whatever my patients do outside my office is their business, not mine. If they choose to share it with me during business hours, so long as they aren’t endangering their own life or the lives of others, whatever they say is protected under professional confidentiality laws.”
“So you’re saying Johnny Malone never endangered the life of another person?”
