"Time to meet this perfect little hero in person," he muttered, tapping the file against his knee. First, he'd size up Jed's luck—see what he was really dealing with. Alex propped his chin in his hand, his mind already spinning. "Oh, and Eric Vaughn's still rotting in detention. Perfect."
He chuckled, imagining the two "lucky heroes" crossing paths behind bars. The hot headed doctor and the flawless detective—what a showdown that'd be. His grin widened. This was going to be fun.
….
Noon. Police Station, Detention Center.
Eric Vaughn slumped against the cold concrete wall, his chest heaving as he let out a shaky breath.
Finally, some peace. That creepy glasses guy—who'd been hounding him like a rabid dog—lay sprawled on the floor, knocked out cold.
Eric's hands still tingled from the syringe he'd used, the fifth dose of sedative he'd jabbed into the freak over the past few days.
Problem was, the guy kept waking up faster each time, like his body was laughing at the drugs.
