“I don’t know what to tell you.” He sat in the chair against the wall. “But he’s not possessed.”
A soft knock sounded at the door before a woman in holiday-themed scrubs stepped in, followed by Bishop wheeling a portable X-ray machine.
“Maggie? Please spell your last name and give your date of birth.”
“M-A-X-W-E-L-L and November 8, 1987.”
“Perfect.” She typed into her tablet, scanned my bracelet, and positioned the machine to start taking X-rays.
The process was relatively painless—a “good sign,” according to Graham—though I wasn’t convinced.
“It will be just a minute as we wait for the radiologist to go over the results. Can I get you anything, Maggie?” Bishop asked.
I shook my head.
“Graham?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, man.”
“Alright, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Bishop followed the X-ray tech and the machine out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I picked at the paper covering the exam table, scooting to the end of it; the crinkle was loud in the quiet. Fluorescent light buzzed overhead, the same sickly hum from every hospital I’d ever been in.
“Okay, so what is he normally like? He’s being overly friendly.”
Graham sighed and threw his head back, the light glaring off his perfect jawline. “Come on! Not everything about the guy is a red flag.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I fuckingknowhim, Max. I’ve known him for six years—he’s a good guy.”
“How well is well? Acquaintance? Or buddy like Derek?”
“I can’t do this.” He stood abruptly, the chair legs screeching against the tile. His shadow stretched across my lap. He let out a sharp exhale, then was at the door. “Don’t freak,” he added, turning back. “I just need a breather from the woo-woo shit. I’m outside the door.”
The door clicked shut, and I was left alone with my thoughts and the silence he left behind.
Maybe I did pry a little too hard, but I couldn’t help it. Someone was after me again, and it freaked me the fuck out. Maybe Graham was right—maybe Bishop was just an empath.
Still, every sideways glance or too-friendly smile had me questioning everyone around me. I didn’t want to get involved with the case, but wanting and doing were never my strong suits.
I told myself to calm down. Breathe. Let Graham do his job.
Yeah, right.
I’d ever been good at sitting on the sidelines. No matter how hard I tried, it just wasn’t in my nature—especially when the target was me.
The hum of the lights pressed against my ears.
I pulled out my phone and texted Katie.
How’s it going?
Katie: Great. We just finished up. Derek and I took the limo and are headed to an after-party.
Nice. How did Hunter seem?
Pissed. He said something about needing to hit the trails. You better give him some great head when he gets home.
