Page 136 of Crash

“While that’s true, I respect my patients. I believe them.” I leaned forward. “And this isn’t about me; this is about a doctor who’s a bad seed, and you know it. Before I consider accepting chief of emergency medicine, I’d like to understand Mercy Harbor’s position on doctors like these.”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

“I’m giving you facts. Now I’d like to see what Mercy Harbor does with them.”

In that moment, I wondered what the old me would have done. Would I have pushed Dr. Vaughn to take action against a doctor treating patients unfairly? I’d like to think so. But all I knew for certain was that my experience with Tessa had transformed me, both as a human, and as a doctor.

Dr. Vaughn released a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’ll look into Rhodes. We can’t afford the liability of patients getting sick or dying.”

Not the heartfelt reaction I’d hoped for, but it would achieve the same result.

“Thank you, Dr. Vaughn. It’s important?—”

A woman’s shriek sliced through the evening’s gentle murmur. I spun away from the bar, my heart already climbing into my throat before my mind could process why.

Tessa wasn’t where I’d left her. Instead, a light crowd was gathering, their formalwear a black sea around something on the floor. Exactly where she’d been standing minutes ago when I’d turned to order our drinks.

No.

My feet moved before my brain could catch up, medical training warring with primal fear. The crowd parted as I approached, and the sight knocked the air from my lungs.

Tessa lay sprawled on her back, the emerald silk of her gown pooled around her like spilled paint. Her skin had taken on an ashen quality that made my medical instincts scream. To her right, a shattered champagne flute glinted among droplets of pale gold liquid.

“Tessa.” I dropped to my knees beside her, muscle memory taking over as I pressed two fingers to her carotid artery.

Dr. Vaughn appeared, already shrugging off his dinner jacket. “Pulse?”

“Weak.” My voice came out clipped, professional.Focus on the medicine. Don’t think about how still she is. How pale.I pointed to a woman clutching her phone. “Call 911. Now!”

“Oh God, Tessa?” The bride appeared at the edge of the crowd, her voice pitched high with panic.

“Did anyone see what happened?” Dr. Vaughn—thank God he was here—began his own assessment.

“I think she fainted,” someone offered.

“She was talking to a guy and just … collapsed.”

Eli. The name crashed through my ears like a record scratch. Where the fuck was he? My eyes swept the ballroom, finally landing on him at the far end. He wasn’t concerned. Wasn’t rushing to help or even asking if she was okay.

No. The bastard was smirking.

Our eyes locked across the space, and in that moment, I knew.

“He did this to her.” The words came out as a growl.

I turned back to Tessa, my hands moving in practiced patterns as I checked for obvious trauma: stab wounds, injection sites, anything that could explain this. Nothing visible, but that might mean … my gaze fell on the scattered champagne.

“No one touch that glass,” I ordered.

Dr. Vaughn gave a sharp nod, understanding immediately the way two seasoned doctors can.

Something in the drink.

Sadly, a number of women wound up in our emergency room each year from date-rape drugs, but this time, I suspected the toxin was lethal.

“Her pulse is deteriorating,” Dr. Vaughn reported, his fingers replacing mine at her throat.

I glanced back at Eli, who still hadn’t moved. Still wore that knowing smirk. “I think that man poisoned her. We need to know with what, or …” I couldn’t finish the sentence.