Because as it turned out, caring about your patient didn’t make you a dangerous doctor. It made you a better one.
71
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When two uniformed police officers entered the sterile hospital hallway, heading toward Tessa’s room, I realized my time had run out. I caught Ryker’s arm—he was still processing everything I’d told him about Eli’s attack—and pulled him into a quiet alcove near the emergency stairwell.
I pressed a twenty into his palm. “Need to hire you as my criminal defense lawyer.”
Ryker glanced at the bill, his expression sharpening. “Why?”
Because I hadn’t yet told him what happenedafterEli poisoned his sister.
“The man who attacked Tessa is dead.” I lowered my voice. “Before I say more, I need you to officially be my lawyer so we have confidentiality.”
Ryker studied my face for one heartbeat, then shoved the money into his back pocket with decisive force. “Take me somewhere more private.”
I led him down the fluorescent-lit corridor, past rooms filled with beeping monitors and hushed voices to a small consultation room. The door clicked shut behind us.
“Tell me everything.”
“I killed him.” The words exploded from me. “On purpose.”
After I laid out every detail, Ryker’s face had gone hard as granite.
“When I had him in the choke hold, the immediate threat was neutralized. The needle was out of play. I could’ve held him for police. But I didn’t.” I swallowed. “It wasn’t self-defense.”
He chewed his cheek, processing this. “Have they questioned you yet?”
“No. But they will. Soon.”
Ryker’s jaw worked. “How do you want to handle this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you telling me this because you want to be noble?” His voice took on an edge. “Turn yourself in and spend the rest of your life in prison? That’s door number one. I strongly suggest door number two.”
“Which is?”
“First, you give the police minimal information. You answer nothing without me present.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You describe a violent confrontation, where control of the needle was constantly in flux until it found his skin. You explain the threat to my sister and everyone else in that room. You stick to those facts. Period.”
“It’s not the whole story.” I had a choice to stop.
“Enjoy rotting in prison if that makes you feel more noble.” His eyes flashed. “The man tried to murder my sister. Twice. You really think I’m letting you go down for taking him out?”
I clenched my jaw.
“After I talk to them, then what?” I asked.
“You let me handle the entire legal process.” Ryker’s voice carried absolute certainty. “Statistically, charges are highly unlikely. There’s no evidence except your word, which you’ll keep to yourself. Your prints on the syringe are explained by the struggle. Hell, everyone in that ballroom owes you their life. Any one of them could’ve died if you hadn’t stopped Eli.” Hegripped my shoulder, his voice softening. “Now let’s go talk to the police.”
72
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I just confessed to murder, and Ryker didn’t even blink.
Walking toward Tessa’s ER room, I watched my best friend—a criminal defense attorney whose entire career was built on upholding the law—process what I’d done. What I’d become. Again. This time, a killer who’d stopped a man’s heart to avenge his sister.
