Your co-workers are watching you, I told myself. Josh is watching you. If he was so unhinged when a couple of strange men catcalled you, just imagine what he’ll do if this guy lays hands on you.

The thought almost made me smile. It wasn’t that I needed a big, strong man to protect me or fight my battles – I’d kick-flipped a dude fifty pounds heavier than I was halfway across a judo mat yesterday afternoon – but it was nice to know that Josh was more than willing to. Part of me almost hoped that Brad tried something so I could learn how far Josh would go, and how far I’d be ready to go with him, because if he went after Brad, there was no way I wouldn’t be along for the ride.

I stepped away from the computer and wheeled over the sphygmomanometer. “Can you hold out your arm? I need to take your blood pressure.”

Brad leaned forward, trying to meet my gaze, but I avoided it. I had a habit of wearing my emotions for everyone to see, and I didn’t want this piece of shit to learn just how much I both feared and reviled him. The fear wasn’t because of what he might do to me; it was more from knowing that people like him lived and walked amongst everyone else – ones who were so broken inside that no amount of therapy or medication would ever make them “safe” for the rest of us. People like Bundy and Kemper and that one handsome guy from the recent Netflix documentary my co-workers kept talking about. What was his stupid nickname? The Ken Doll Killer?

“You seem uncomfortable,” Brad said, voice low and cajoling as I wrapped the pressure cuff around his bicep. I noted the healing scratches on his arm and wondered if the cops had been able to photograph them. “Is this about the unfortunate mix-up from the other night?”

I kept my mouth shut, tightening the cuff more than necessary before stepping away and turning the machine on. Mix-up. The fucking nerve of this piece of shit.

“I know how it must look,” Brad said, his tone almost bashful. “But if I’d really done what they said, wouldn’t I be in jail right now?”

I didn’t respond, refusing to be goaded by him. Instead, I clenched my jaw and half turned away to watch the machines. His pulse was steady at 61 beats per minute, and his blood pressure read a healthy 115/70. The fact that even his readings showed a man at ease made me want to scream. He wasn’t nervous or elevated while discussing raping someone, which told me that he was either incapable of emotions like empathy or the woman from the other night wasn’t his first victim. Part of me worried both were true.

I girded myself as I pulled his cuff off, trying to keep my breath steady while my heart beat nearly double the rate of his, and my blood pressure went through the roof.

“I’ll need to look at your head before you’re wheeled down to radiology for your ribs,” I said.

“Oh, of course. I’d make that joke about how the other guy was worse, but that would be a lie,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Despite my repulsion, I could see how someone might be charmed by him. But my lizard brain wasn’t buying it. It was screaming at me to get away from Brad as fast as I could.

I took my time pushing the machines back into the corner, trying to gather my unraveling resolve to treat him.

“Did my chart tell you what happened?” he asked, not pausing long enough for me to get an answer out. “That man stalked me through social media so he could attack me from behind in a bar. Good thing there were so many witnesses, and the cops were close enough to make a quick arrest.”

I said absolutely nothing again, but inside I was seething. How fucked was our justice system that a devastated family member sat in jail while a rapist walked free?

I couldn’t take much more of this, but maybe if I stayed quiet long enough, Brad would get the hint and shut up. I sure as shit wasn’t about to argue with a potential psychopath or play into whatever false narrative he was creating for himself.

Unfortunately, this monster was a chatty one.

Brad leaned toward me, attempting to catch my eye. “I tried to tell him it was a misunderstanding, and his sister had been more than willing, but he wouldn’t listen.”

My ears rang as my temper started to get away from me. From the amount of ketamine we’d found in her system, Brad’s victim wasn’t anywhere near being able to consent, if she was even conscious at the time.

Just do your job and get out, I told myself, pulling on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves.

“But I come from the kind of family that sees attacks like this all the time,” Brad said. “You’d be amazed at the things people do looking for a payout.”

Don’t, I told myself. Do not rise to the bait. A response was clearly what he was after.

I kept my eyes trained on a small riser of shelves as I strode past the foot of Brad’s bed, careful not to let him out of my periphery. My pulse was pounding in my ears, and I had so much adrenaline sluicing through my veins that I was starting to tremble. I could do this. I just had to clean his head and call an orderly to take him downstairs for his X-rays. After that, it would be a doctor’s responsibility to stitch him up.

I glanced at the nurse’s station to see Erica and Tanya standing behind it, watching me with stony expressions. Could they hear Brad all the way over there? Or was it just that they could see him talking that had them on guard? Either way, I was grateful for their vigilance. The sight of them buoyed me some, reminded me that I wasn’t alone with this piece of shit.

“I should have expected something like that from her,” Brad said while I pulled open the top drawer. “She wasn’t exactly a high-quality woman, if you know what I mean. You think she would have been grateful for the attention of someone with my pedigree, but instead, she turned around and accused me of attacking her.”

My fingers shook as I lifted the things I’d need from the drawer. Gauze. Cleaning supplies. Butterfly stitches to hold his wound closed until the doctor could see him. I focused on every single item to keep myself from turning around and punching Brad in the face. I’d never wanted to hurt someone like this before, and the violence screaming to get out of me was terrifying.

Movement caught the corner of my eye. I dodged sideways and whipped around to face Brad, who’d just tried to grab me.

A smile split his face, the charm slipping away as something cold and serpentine took its place. Damn it. I’d finally given him the reaction he wanted.

“So jumpy,” he said. “You must be afraid.” From the way his dick was starting to tent up his pants, he was thrilled about the possibility.

Unfortunately for him, my fear had been subverted by rage. I was so mad that I felt oddly calm as I cocked my head sideways and dropped my eyes straight to his lap.

“Afraid?” I said. “Of some shrimp-dicked spoiled brat?” I lifted my gaze back to his, knowing he would see my fury, my anticipation. “Go ahead. Try to grab me again.” I stepped close to him for the first time all night, catching the smell of stale alcohol wafting off his breath. God, I hoped he’d do it. If he touched me first, I could say I was defending myself. “I’d love to see how a coward like you holds up against a fully conscious woman.”

He blinked at me, and I had just enough time to catch the triumph in his eyes before he scrunched his face in mock fear and started wailing. “Help! Help! This nurse just threatened me!”

I took a hasty step away, cursing myself for letting him manipulate me.

Several people came running in at Brad’s continued outbursts, including Ben, one of our security guards.

“You okay, Aly?” he asked, and I almost swore at him for using my name.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Why are you asking her?” Brad whined, all evidence of the monster I’d just met gone, replaced by the spitting image of the spoiled brat I’d accused him of being. “I’m the one she threatened.”