Page 70 of Donovan's Men

“What the fuck?” The latter came from Allie. She plopped her mug on the table, and a bit of tea splashed. “So you’re telling me that not only are you willing to risk your career for a client whom you’ve met with only twice, but that there’s another man and…” She spun her hand in the air.

“You want to be together as a triad?” Smith supplied.

Allie glanced at him before turning her attention back to me. “What the hell, Hamish?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t prevaricate. Tell me the truth. Be honest.”

“Okay.” I drew a deep breath. “I met Donovan and Detective Tyson McGillvary at the same time. We spoke before going together—as a group—to the crime scene. Donovan…walked us through it. Unconventional.” I indicated Allie with my head. “You taught me that.”

She snorted. Rather unladylike.

“Well, he asked, and I wasn’t going to decline. I figured he’d work through his trauma of returning to the scene of the shooting, we’d do another couple of sessions, and he’d likely be ready to be discharged. He…” I sought the right words. “He’s got a good grasp of the situation. I mean, he blames himself—completely inappropriately—but I think that’s a normal reaction. I was helping him work through that.”

Smith rose to head to the coffeemaker. “Keep talking. You haven’t crawled out of the hole you’ve dug.”

I snuck a peek at Allie, and her frown assured me I hadn’t persuaded her…yet.

“He asked us to go to a coffee shop. The temperature outside was below freezing, so I had no issues with that. He invited Tyson along, and…I figured we were just going to talk.”

“Not a lot of privacy.” Allie continued to stare.

“True.” I eyed her as she used a cloth Smith handed her to wipe up the spilled tea. “But we weren’t delving into deep psychological issues.”

“So you just talked.”

“We…talked. I gave Donovan my card and planned to speak to him when he called me.”

Smith retook his seat, sealed coffee mug in hand. “And?”

“And we talked. He was at a low point—and a little doped up on painkillers—and he needed to unload. I would’ve done that for any of my patients.”

Allie sipped her tea. “You said you’ve seen him three times in person.”

“Right.” I winced. “We talked some more on the phone and texted a few times. Then last week, he said he needed to see me. At his house.”

Smith rapped his knuckles on the table.

“Jesus, Hamish.” Allie’s frown intensified.

“Right…I tried to work out another location, but…he insisted. Look, I’ve gone to client’s homes before.”

“Never alone.”

I couldn’t argue with Allie’s assertion. “No, you’re right. But Tyson was going to be there. Donovan said we all needed to be there—I assumed it had something to do with the case.”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” Smith mumbled. Still, the corners of his lips curled up as if he found my predicament vaguely amusing.

“Yeah, I know.” I hung my head. “So…something happened. Between Tyson and me…”

“And I take it Donovan watched?” Allie’s tone was scrupulously neutral.

I nodded.

She let out a breath. “On the basis of all that, you’re willing to walk away from your profession? From your life? Over, what?”

“A blow job.” Even saying the words had me cringing.