Page 23 of Intense
That killing Luke was only fueling the fire with The Preacher—who, as far as I can tell, is a ghost.
I open the folder and shake my head, staring at the grainy, clearly doctored images of me ‘killing’ my patient. I look closer. I remember him; I did his surgery. It was his last chance for his failing heart. What I do remember most is that he had a watch on worth a fucking fortune.
“He died from complications after surgery. In my field, it’s kinda common,” I say nonchalantly.
My mind is racing. I’m dealing with someone who can hack hospital systems.
“I suppose the hospital CCTV went down, conveniently? It’s just this one still image of me walking in a hallway around the time of death?”
He nods.
“You arrested me on these fucking grounds?” I can’t hide my anger.
“I–I’m sorry.”
I blow out a sharp breath. They’re sending a message.
They can get to me. They know who I am.
And that—ain’t fucking good.
“You think anyone at the hospital was involved?” I ask.
He rubs his neck.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Finn. We got nothing. And I’m not sure you want us to be the ones doing the digging.”
His body language is screaming he wants to leap out the window and away from me.
“Dr. Quinn,” I correct.
He’s damn right. I have my own team who can dig, not the cops.
I stand and he holds out his hand. I hesitate, then give him a firm shake. I have to keep the cops on my side. Especially now.
“You know I don’t kill my patients, Tim. I have a reputation to uphold.”
He swallows. I tighten my grip.
“Well, Dr. Quinn. Just keep an eye on your hospital. Keep the records clean. I’ll give you a heads-up if anything else comes in. I’m not sure how much I can bail you out of if this continues, though. Clearing the streets of mob violence is one thing—killing patients in our hospitals is another.”
I arch my brow.
He’s talking shit.
And we both know it.
Because as long as he’s on our payroll, he’ll bail me out of anything.
“I’ll take care of it. Leave it with me.”
Translation:
Keep your nose out of my hospital.
“No problem.”
Before I leave, I straighten my jacket and grab my flat cap from my pocket, pulling it on as I head out into the fresh fuckin’ air.
