Page 88 of Bad Blood

My stubbornness gets the better of me, and I shove a hand onto my hip. “What? Me treating Liam?”

“Exactly. You know, common sense—it’s a slippery slope.”

I throw my hands in the air. I can’t believe Kline has the audacity to mention him, let alone try to dictate anything about the way I run the care of my patients.

I’m so confused by his intentions that I laugh. Hard. I can’t do this. Not right now.

“My patients are none of your business,” I reiterate.

He makes a sour face. “Stop being so negative.”

“I’m being realistic.”

The elevator chimes its arrival in the nick of time, and relief washes over me. I stride forward and ram the round button to go upstairs and bind my arms over my chest, waiting for the doors to close as I glare at Kline.

He narrows his eyes and drops his gaze as I push the button again to reinforce my need for it to hurry and close. The doors glide along the track, and the hairs on my arms prickle with relief.

My eyes meet Kline’s as he gives me a wicked smile.

His white knuckles wrench the doors open enough so he can make his way inside.

They glide apart.

I’m gonna be sick.

He stands beside me and turns to face the exit before pushing the button to the oncology floor, even though it’s already lit up. He leans in closer, acting as if he wasn’t a condescending prick. “We need to talk.”

“I think you’ve said enough.” The hairs on my neck stand on end. I flee to the back of the elevator as the doors press together. I pull my bag into my arms and try to melt into the corner.

“Actually, I got sidetracked. I wanted to talk to you about something else—not your patient.”

The display circles glow orange as we climb the floors to oncology in stilted silence.

“We have nothing else to discuss.”

“I wanted to remind you . . .” He rushes toward me and corners me against the wall. I cry out in alarm, my breath erupting out of me. His putrid breath cascades over my face as he closes the distance between us, and I turn away, breathing only through my mouth. “My business is my business. Do you understand?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, struggling to find my voice. “Of course.”

“I don’t need those damn detectives asking more questions.”

What do the detectives have to do with any of this?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“They called and asked about my dating history. Did you say something to them?”

I swallow the bile rising in my throat and gulp.

“Because that wouldn’t be a good idea.” My hesitation draws his attention, and he leans closer.

“No . . . I never.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, giving me space as he paces.

I struggle to catch my breath.

“Goddammit. Who the fuck?” He slams a palm into the wall next to the panel of lights.

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