“I’ve changed my mind.” She closed the door to the office. That detective better live up to his word. If he doesn’t get in here in time, I’ll be arrested for a brutal murder. “I need to finish this. I have to get my nursing degree. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

He slit his eyes, suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not joking around. What, you think I’m wearing a wire? Here.” She slid off her top, trying to be slinky, revealing the same bra as that morning. “My son is sick. The only way I can help him is if I’m working a decent job.” She kicked off her shoes. Untying the bottoms of her scrubs, she asked him, “So, what can I do? How do you want me?”

He stayed seated, watching her.

She wriggled a hand partway down the waistband of her pants and massaged her lower stomach. He licked his lips. She ran her hands up over her breasts, and then, as her hands slid back down over her skin, she pulled the bra down, channeling what she’d learned from every B-grade stripper movie she’d ever seen. She let the material drop back into place as her hands continued south. She let her hand go all the way below her waistband, her eyes drooping, her head tilting back. “Mmm.”

“Come here.” The doctor finally spoke, his voice guttural.

“Oh, you like that? Ohh.”

He stood up, quickly moving toward her. “Hot little Latina bitch. Take those pants off, whore.”

She let him get just in front of her, putting one palm out. “Will you sign my evaluation if I just let you watch? I can make it worth your while.”

“You want me to sign, darlin’? You’re gonna ride me.”

She gulped. Stay calm. “Yeah? Then I want some more asthma medicine.”

He laughed and tugged on the drawstring of her pants, as if he was flirting with her. “You get me off and you can have the whole drawer.” He ran a finger up her stomach. “It’s not like I pay for that crap.”

She snapped her head forward and yanked her hand out of her pants, yelling into the cylinder, “Did you hear that?”

Dr. Collins’s hand shot out and locked onto her wrist, layered over the bruises he’d created that morning. She dropped the recorder.

“What is that? Is that a mic?”

“Yes, asshole!” She cocked her knee back, aimed, and brought up her leg with the force of a woman brimful of storming fury.

By the time the detective could get the door open, Dr. Collins was on the ground, crying for mercy. The detective cocked an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. “He was attacking me. I had to defend myself.”