Page 63 of All the Missing Pieces

“That sounds a hell of a lot like a threat,” I growled, starting toward him.

Ridley held up a hand and sent me a pleading look that had me stopping in my tracks. She turned her focus to the douche. “Baker, you need to back off. You know our contract. I get final say on all cases. You can decide not to run the rest of this case if you want, but I’ll just publish it under my own umbrella. I’m not letting some gutless asswipe scare me away. All the attack told me is that I’m getting close.”

An invisible fist ground against my sternum. She was so damn brave. But it was the kind of bravery that could get you killed. And I wouldn’t be able to live with that. No way in hell.

Baker stiffened. “I made you.”

Ridley just scoffed. “The hell you did.”

“We’ll just have to see what happens when I put all my resources behindReality Rampageinstead of you.”

She shrugged. “Have at it. My approach has always been grassroots. And that’s not something you control.”

Baker spat a curse, turned on his heel, and stormed past me like a toddler having a tantrum.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“My thoughts exactly,” Dr. Sapra echoed.

Ridley slumped against the gurney’s mattress, suddenly looking exhausted. “I’m sorry. He’s a douchebag on a good day.”

“Your producer or something?” I asked. I didn’t like that he was conveniently in town the night Ridley was attacked.

She nodded. “I’ve been with him for almost three years now.”

Three years. I didn’t even want to think about the bullshit she’d had to deal with in that time. “Might be time to rethink that arrangement.”

Ridley sighed. “You’re probably right. I just haven’t wanted to deal with the nightmare of leaving him.”

I bet the little shit would throw a hissy fit. But at least the relationship would be severed. I’d get his full name from the podcast’s website and run him. Just to cover my bases. I turned to Dr. Sapra. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in her ER for a case. This one just felt a hell of a lot more personal.

“Ridley good to go?” I asked.

Dr. Sapra immediately turned to her patient. “Do you feel safe going with Colt? I am happy to admit you for the night, and I can find a temporary home for Tater.”

An angry meow sounded from the corner. My gaze locked on the carrier in the corner and the very pissed-off cat inside. “Might want to be careful there,” I warned. “That thing is liable to take out your jugular.”

Ridley glared at me. “Tater isn’t athing. She’s a cat. And she wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

“Tell that to my hand,” I shot back.

“Oh please. She didn’t even break the skin.” Then a smile stretched across her face. “You know, Dr. Sapra, just to be safe, we should probably give Colt a round of rabies shots. I hear they’re extremely painful.”

Dr. Sapra choked on a laugh. “That they are.”

I turned to Ridley and scowled, but relief swept through me. If she was giving me shit, things couldn’t be that bad. “What do we need to get out of here, Doc?”

She glanced at Ridley. “You’re good to go with Colt?”

Ridley nodded. “He’s better than the alternative.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered. But another dose of relief hit me.

“And are you okay if I share medical information with him?” Dr. Sapra asked.

“That’s fine,” Ridley said, but the words held a strain.

She was so damn strong. Didn’t want me to see the slightest evidence of weakness. But this wasn’t her weakness. It wassomeone else’s—someone I was going to find and make sorry they’d ever touched her.

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