18. BLAKE
BLAKE
“Ryker, I need advice,” I said into my phone.
“Nothing I can do. Your face will always be ugly.”
“Your humor never gets old. Now, I’m serious. For the next minute, you’re my lawyer. I just wired you twenty bucks to make it official.”
“The hell?”
“I’m about to do something illegal. If I get caught, I need to know my odds. Prison won’t stop me, but Knox says it’s something I should avoid.”
“Blake.” His voice sharpened. “What the hell is going on?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“Then how exactly am I supposed to help?”
“By speaking in hypotheticals.”
“I can’t defend you without details.”
“Fine. I’m going to hurt someone.”
“Who?”
“Can’t say.”
“Then why are you hypothetically going to hurt this hypothetical person?”
“Does it matter?”
“Does motive matter in prosecution? Yes, motive fucking matters. If you can’t tell me who, at least tell me why. Because if a prosecutor can trace the motive?—”
“Hypothetically speaking,” I cut in, “if someone had attacked one of your family members, would that information fall under attorney-client privilege? As in you could never breathe a word of it? Especially to them?”
A pause.
“Did someone in my family show up in your ER?”
Yes. And lucky for me, my shift just ended, and I have a few hours before Tessa’s labs will come back.
“Answer the question,” I said.
“Yes, it would be privileged.”
“And you’d never be allowed to tell this family member you knew? Because finding out would cause them severe emotional distress?”
His shoes clicked against what I assumed was hardwood flooring. “I won’t tell Tessa. You have my word. Now what the fuck is going on?”
“In college, a guy assaulted her.”
The pacing stopped dead.
“What did he do?” His voice had gone Batman-level low.
“Don’t have all the details.” My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “But he hurt her. Bad. Left a scar.” Physically and emotionally.
“And you’re going to confront him.”
“She wouldn’t want me to.”
“He’s in Chicago?”
“Saved me airfare.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“Already driving.”
“Pick me up.”
“Why?”
“To make sure you don’t murder the guy. You do that, you’re definitely screwed.”
Unless they never find the body.
“A criminal attorney getting caught doing what I’m about to do would be spectacularly stupid.”
“On the contrary. My expertise will be useful. Hypothetically.” Something metallic clanked. “Plus, I have a bat.”
I put my turn signal on. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
The bastard wasn’t home. Four hours of watching his door, imagining every way I could make him pay, and nothing.
The disappointment tasted bitter, but maybe this was the universe’s way of stopping me from crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.
Based on how Ryker’s fist had become a regular passenger against my car seat, neither of us would’ve shown much restraint.
The drive home was silent, heavy with all the things I couldn’t tell Ryker, and dammit if I didn’t feel like shit for keeping this from my best friend.
How his baby sister had confessed her darkest moment under sedation.
How she still blamed herself. Ryker had the bare minimum—the legal framework he’d need if things went sideways. Nothing more.
Still, the guilt of betraying Tessa’s confidence sat like lead in my stomach. She trusted me as her doctor, as a friend, trusted me with a secret she’d kept buried for years. If she ever found out I’d told Ryker … Christ. The thought of losing her trust made my chest burn.
Worse, if I got her brother roped into something that would land him in prison, she’d suffer more than she already had.
I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Wouldn’t.
The next time I visited Eric Voss, I’d come alone.
And next time, maybe I’d worry less about landing myself in prison …
For now, I needed to get back to the hospital and check on Tessa.