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“Who the hell do you think you are, Dr. Perfect?” Her brows snapped together, an angry flush rushing into her cheeks.
The phone almost slid from his grip. So that’s what she thought of him. “That’s just it, Lacey. I’m not perfect, and neither are you or Dr. B or anyone. Even if you won’t help me, just give me a few minutes to search Jill’s place.”
“Search for what?” She waved her arms around the room. “The bad guys already did that, and if they found what they wanted, your brother’s toast, anyway.”
He dropped the phone, shoulders slumping under the heavy weight he’d been carrying more years than he cared to remember. Was he too late? Had the situation already slipped out of his control?
Lacey gasped and took his face in her hands. “Nick, I’m so sorry. What a stupid, insensitive thing to say, and I’m supposed to be the caring hospice nurse. If my teachers heard me, they’d cashier me right out of the program. I know all about hauling brothers who make bad choices out of trouble. Search away. Let me know when you’re done, and we’ll call the police. There’s nothing anyone can do for Jill now, anyway.”
And just like that, he got Lacey Kirk, crusader for justice, on his side without even trying. He kissed her mouth and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket. He ignored her wide eyes, not bothering to determine if her shock came from the kiss or the gloves, and skirted the sofa to search through the papers on the floor.
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