Shadow of Perception by Kristine Mason Page A

wrong.    
    Two beers later she decided she’d definitely handled things with Hudson just fine.  
    “The rat bastard,” she hiccupped, and looked to Brutal and Fabio. “Do you know what he did to me? Well, it wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was downright ugly.”
    She took another swig and leaned closer to the animals. “He used me to get to my source.” She nodded. “That’s right. He used me. And get this, the guy, ya know, the source, he was a friggin’ rapist. My darling lover allowed me to cavort with a rapist so that he could nail the bastard. And he didn’t even bother to tell me. I mean, I was gang raped when I was a kid and he didn’t think I should know who I was dealing with?”
    You never told him.  
    “Oh my God.” The bottle hit the floor with a thud, and she quickly bent to retrieve it. Thankfully she’d swallowed the last drop of beer, because she didn’t have it in her to clean up the mess. Four beers on an empty stomach had been a stupid idea. Being angry with Hudson was foolish as well. How could she be mad at him for using her as bait—for a serial rapist—when she hadn’t bothered to open up to him about her past?  
    But he could have at least told her that she’d become part of his plan to catch Mason Winters. They’d been partners in bed, hadn’t they? Why couldn’t they have been partners for life?  
    No. That’s the beer talking.
    Was it? She’d fallen hard for Hudson, and honestly believed he’d cared about her, too. Other than the whole Winters debacle, he’d treated her with respect, compassion and love? Maybe?
    Officially drunk, her head hurting from too many beers and too many thoughts about the past, she decided to go to bed. But as she lay on the mattress, fully clothed and her head spinning in time with the ceiling fan, she wondered if maybe she should…try. Hudson had made it crystal clear that he still wanted her. In what capacity her muddled, mushy, beer-filled head couldn’t decipher. All day he’d kept trying to bring up the past, so maybe—
    She bolted upright, and gripped the comforter. Did she set the alarm? Did she even know how to set the alarm? She glanced at the clock. Only half past eight, she could call Hudson and ask him.  
    But she was drunk.  
    Shit. She couldn’t call him. He’d find out she’d lied about her date .  
    Plus, she was horny.  
    “Damn it,” she muttered, and reached for the cell phone she’d left on the nightstand.  
    *
      Dressed in his scrubs, Michael Morrison stepped back to admire his handiwork. No sense of satisfaction ensued, though. The sight before him caused his hands to shake and his mouth to turn dry.  
    What the hell was he doing?
    Knowing his patient would remain immobile, due to the drug he’d used to knock him out, he rushed from his OR and didn’t stop until he’d reached the solitude of his office. He grabbed the open bottle of Wild Turkey and took several long swallows. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he blinked his watery eyes.  
    “This is wrong,” he whispered. “All wrong.”
    Did Dr. Westly deserve the punishment for his crime against Eliza? The man had been his daughter’s dentist. He’d pulled a bunch of teeth out of her head, given her veneers…all of which Michael had thought unnecessary. Eliza’s smile had been beautiful before the dentist had even touched her. She’d worn braces for two years while in high school, and the orthodontist had said her teeth were perfect. Not Dr. Westly, though. He’d convinced Eliza and her bitch of a mother that investing twenty grand for veneers was necessary if Eliza was to have a perfect smile.  
    Michael clenched his jaw as he remembered how Eliza had told him what the dentist had said about the veneers. The bastard had told his beautiful daughter that her smile, her teeth, were “just okay.” Just okay hadn’t settled well with his daughter, who had obvious self-confidence issues. Thanks to her mother, Eliza had become