Page 60 of Deeply Examined

I grin in his face, secretly glad he’s resisting because it gives me the perfect excuse to punch him. “People, like you, who touch what’s mine get destroyed. It’s as simple as that.”

With my free hand, I make a fist and slam it into his cheek. His skin splits under the impact, and blood runs in a red rivulet down his face. The rage-filled beast inside me roars in approval, happy to be released from his cage. I continue to beat Dylan, aiming my blows mostly on his soft belly and flanks. Don’t want to leave too many marks. A lacerated cheek he can explain away, which will be good for what I have in mind. Even as I’m lost in the mist of my fury, there’s a part of my brain that remains calm, calculating, scheming. I have to be more careful with this one. I can’t totally let go like I did with Brad.

In the beginning, Dylan tries to fight back, but he quickly realizes the futility of it. Soon, he reveals the coward I always knew he was. Cursing, he begs and pleads for me to stop. When my arm tires, I drop him to the ground. He tries to make a run for it, but I catch him easily and shove him against the wall. My forearm goes to his throat, pushing hard enough that his words come out choked.

“You fucking asshole,” Dylan swears at me, squirming. He stops to spit out blood. It stains his lips red, a macabre kind of lipstick. “I’m going to ruin you for this,” he hisses. “Your medical license is as good as mine. Wait until the police and the medical board hear about how you assaulted me.”

“Tsk,tsk,Dylan.” I shake my head like he’s disappointed me. “You won’t be doing that. Not unless you want everyone, including your wife, to learn about your teenage girlfriend. You fucking pedophile.”

“I don’t care about my wife. Fuck that bitch. I’m going to leave her anyway.” Dylan sends me a triumphant glare, thinking he’s outsmarted me. Without warning, he kicks out, trying to trip me, but I sidestep and he ends up kicking air.

“Aww,” I croon with a sarcastic lift of my brows. “That’s so sweet. Are you planning on making your stripper the new Mrs. Dickhead? Make sure you send me an invitation to the wedding.”

“You’ll get an invitation to your own funeral. That’s what you’ll get.”

“I don’t think so.” I cock my head and give him my sweetest smile. “Remember back at the gala? When you were saying such nice things about me?” I pretend like I’m lost in the memory. “You said I was good-looking and did well in school. Remember that?”

Dylan twists under my grasp, desperate to break free, but it’s no use. I lift weights every day, and I doubt this wimp has seen the gym in months.

Finally, he gives up his wild thrashing. With pure unadulterated hate in his eyes, he grits out, “Get fucked.”

I continue as if I didn’t hear him. “You left out the other thing I’m good at. I mean, sure, it’s not as sexy as those other qualities, but it’s just as useful. Do you know what it is?”

He rolls his eyes, knowing this is a hypothetical question.

“Math. I’m good at math or, more specifically, financial statistics.” I reach into my coat pocket and pull out a thick sheath of papers, which I wave in front of his face. “That’s how I know for a fact that you’ve been embezzling from your physician group. Millions of dollars, from what I’ve uncovered.”

The blood drains from Dylan’s face, a beautiful sight, but I don’t need to see his reaction to know I’m right. People, I’ve learned, cannot be trusted, but the numbers never lie. I shove the papers in his face, unable to hold back my grin. “I have bank statements, wire transfers, and stock trade records that document in lurid detail exactly how naughty a boy you’ve been, Dylan. If I were you, I’d be much more worried aboutyourmedical license than about mine.”

If I weren’t holding him up, I’m sure he would slide to the ground. That’s how boneless he’s become.

“Wh—what are you going to do with that?” His gaze bounces between the papers and my face.

“Good boy.” I give him a hard pat on the top of his head, which makes him wince. “I’m glad you’re not wasting my time trying to deny it. That’s the first smart decision you’ve made.”

Now that I’ve got his full attention, I ease back enough that his feet land on the ground. He rubs his throat, glaring at me like he’d kill me if he could.

I’m not offended. If our roles were reversed, I’d feel the same.

“You want to know what I’m going to do?”

He nods, his cheeks an angry red.

“Nothing,” I say simply. “I won’t do anything, as long as you leave this city, actually this state. Get out of Illinois. Take your wife or your mistress or both. I don’t care as long as you leave. Get a new job at a different hospital. You can carry on with your idiocy if you like, as long as it’s far away from here.”

Quick as a flash of lightning, my hand shoots out to grasp his throat. Slowly, I squeeze. “If I ever see your face again, or if you so much as think about coming near Jessica, I’ll make sure you lose everything. Your career, your freedom, your life.”

When I let go, Dylan crumples against the wall, coughing. I wait patiently until he recovers. A couple of ragged breaths later, he blinks at me owlishly. “Really?”

“Really.” I rock back on my heels, grinning. “I don’t give a fuck. Just go.”

His posture slumps with relief. He scrubs his hand over his face with a quiet, “Thank god.”

“You should be thankingme. You waste of space.” I kick, landing my foot on his shin.

Dylan yelps, then hops comically on his good leg, holding the injured one in his hand. Again with the baleful glare directed at me. Just when I think he’ll admit defeat, a cunning gleam sparks in his eyes.

He’s so predictable. All I have to do is think what I’d do if our roles were reversed to know his next move. It’s a thought that makes me pause.

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