Page 11 of Tapped

I look through the window of the conference room where Dr. Evita Litchfield is massaging the anxiety from her temples while her son plays a game on her phone. “Look at her. Who wants to believe that the person they chose to marry is capable of paying someone to kill them. And to make it worse, your kid too.”

Brax’s jaw goes hard, and he crosses his arms. “I’ve seen some fucked-up shit, but that’s fucked up. Michaels might as well have signed his own judgment. He deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his life.”

There was drama at the mansion. After Evita passed out, she informed everyone in the room that it had never happened before. She was agitated and tense while EMS checked her vitals. The doctor was the worst patient I’d ever seen. She downed two glasses of water, forced herself to eat a protein bar, and declared herselffinebefore the medics cleared her.

Prior to knocking on her door today, I’d never seen the woman in the flesh. A basic Google search led me to her professional profile with the hospital she’s associated with. In her white medical coat, she stood out among her peers.

Young.

Pretty.

No. Pretty is too basic a word for the woman.

She’s exquisite.

Damn. I’ve been trapped in my G-ride for too long. I’ve never described anything as exquisite in my life. Certainly not a woman and never a doctor.

I need to focus. “We have no idea who he hired. Michaels is waiting in the interrogation room. But the doctor needs to take this threat seriously.”

I don’t take my eyes off her as her son climbs down from his chair and ditches the small screen to run circles around the conference table. She picks up her phone and starts to flip through the screens before tossing it to the table and drops her face to her hands.

“For some reason, I think she knows,” I add. “She just can’t accept it.”

“Given the evidence, convincing her won’t be hard.”

I force myself to look away from the tortured woman. “She needs proof. She demanded it.”

Brax hikes a brow. “Did she tell you this when you had her on her back pinned to the floor?”

I shrug. “It’s where I do all my best work.”

Brax huffs. “If you didn’t work twenty-four-seven, I might believe you. You need to get a fucking life.”

“You sound like your wife. For the time being, I’ll settle for convincing Evita that her husband paid a whack to have her and the little guy murdered so she takes it seriously. I barely get any sleep as it is. I do not need this keeping me awake at night. She needs to be convinced, and the only person to do that is her shithead husband.”

“You think you’re going to get him to tell her?”

“No fucking way. She doesn’t need to be anywhere close to him. But she can be on the other side of the wall.”

“You’re going to let her listen to the interrogation?” Brax scoffs. “That seems … I don’t know. Cruel.”

I move for the door. “It’s her new reality. If she needs proof, I’ll dish up the truth and feed it to her on a golden spoon. That’s how much I need my sleep.”

Brax follows. “You’re ruthless. At least prepare her for what she’s about to hear.”

I get to the conference room and yank the door open.

The boy skids to a halt in front of me and the doctor looks up through her tired, dark eyes and scowls. “You insisted we come here, but we’ve been sitting in this room for over thirty minutes. I have patients to check on, not to mention, I just got a text from my nanny. She quit, by the way, and I have a full patient load the rest of the week. I can’t just call in sick and put my patients off for a week so I can get my life in order. You can’t keep me here. If I have to call my attorney, I will.”

I look from her son to her and say just enough that he won’t understand. “You wanted proof. I’m going to give it to you.”

She looks exhausted from passing out and bites her lip before glancing at her son who throws himself into her lap. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

She runs her fingers through his thick, dark hair that’s the same shade of dark chocolate as hers. “I know, baby. We’ll get home soon, and I’ll make you dinner.”

Brax butts in. “I’ve got a desk drawer full of snacks that I keep for my son when he visits. How about you come hang out with me and you can have whatever you want while your mom talks to Agent Emmett?”

“No,” Evita says. “He needs to stay with me.”

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