behind her. Colter turned the lock. The sound was definitive, a m
desk and sat down, gesturing to the leathe
e of the seat, her hands c
tical. "You want to see Dallas Barlow's real m
s using a fake diagnosis to defraud me, and I ne
eaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in fr
kin," he said, his tone professional, yet his words were a violat
ly humiliating. Her face burned. To be asked th
e bit ou
g like no barrier at all. "So the other night, at the hotel... your extreme
ished surface of the desk. "Dr. Kensington, that is none of
exhibiting signs of extreme sexual frustration can be a key indicator of the psychological pressur
with his words while maintaining a professional veneer. D
ened slightly. He dropped the bomb. "Physiologi
you can testify to that? Yo
iagnosis. As long as he claims to have it, and as long as he's seeing a the
bring me in here?" she asked, he
, and she instinctively shrank back in her chair until her
rapping her completely in his shadow. He leaned
low vibration that seemed to go straight through
ched. "What...
d you take anything? To bind the remaining toxins in your system? T
ast two days, the most obvious, most catastrophic m
bled to her feet, backing away fro
s. He turned, tore a sheet from a prescription
macy downstairs. It's a high-dose hepa
and turned to flee. She wrenched open the door, desp
allway, his voice followe
te a physical examination with a specific neurological trigger test that he won't know how to fake. I can force hi
look back.
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