All Chapters of Bad Medicine: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The red dot hovered, unwavering, right between Jax’s eyes.Sienna’s breath froze in her lungs. She wanted to scream, to throw herself in front of him, to do something—but her body betrayed her, locked in terror.“Don’t move,” she whispered, barely a sound.But Jax didn’t need the warning. He’d seen it too. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Only the faintest shift in his shoulders, as if he were sizing up death and deciding it was just another fight waiting to be had.The barrel of his gun stayed low, though. His movements were controlled, deliberate. “Doc,” he murmured, voice low, steady, “you’re gonna slide off that couch and crawl to the back room. Quiet, slow. Don’t argue.”Her throat tightened. “I’m not leaving you—”“It’s not leaving if I’m right behind you. Now move.”Her body screamed to run, but her legs felt like concrete. Still, the steel in his tone cut through the fear. She slipped off the couch, her palms catching on the rough rug, and crawled across the floor. The wooden b

The world blurred into trees and wind and the deafening roar of engines.Sienna’s heart slammed against her ribs, every bump of the road rattling her bones. She clung tighter to Jax, the leather of his cut slick beneath her palms.But no amount of clutching could erase what she’d seen in that mirror.Not some faceless outlaw. Not a nameless thug.A cop. From her hospital.Her scream tore out before she could stop it. “It’s him! Jax, it’s one of them! He works at my hospital!”Jax didn’t look back. He gunned the throttle, voice sharp over the roar. “Not the time, Doc!”The bike jolted hard left, dirt spitting, her stomach dropping as they careened onto a narrower trail. Branches clawed at her arms, wind ripping at her helmet.But the other bike followed. Closer. Louder.She risked another glance over her shoulder.The cop’s face was twisted into something ugly—half snarl, half grin. And worse, his hand wasn’t just on the throttle.He had a gun.“Jax!”The warning burst out of her as th

The words stared back from the phone screen, sharp as broken glass.Check the morgue.Sienna’s mouth went dry. The morgue. Her stomach twisted just thinking about it—the icy chill, the stainless-steel drawers, the lingering scent of antiseptic overlaid with something heavier, final.She swallowed hard. “Why the morgue?”Jax’s jaw worked as he stared at the message, thumb tightening around his phone. “Because they want to scare you.”Her pulse kicked. “It’s already working.”He looked up, meeting her gaze, and for a moment she saw not just the hard biker, but the soldier beneath—the one who’d seen messages like this before, taunts sent by enemies who knew the value of psychological warfare.“Or,” he said slowly, “they’ve left us something to find.”The thought chilled her worse than the idea of a body drawer sliding open.She forced a shaky laugh. “You sound like you want to walk into a horror movie.”His mouth curved humorlessly. “Better to walk in armed than sit back and let the mons

The morgue felt colder after Harper left.Not the kind of cold that seeped from refrigeration units, but the kind that wormed under skin, burrowed into bone.Sienna stared at the photo glowing on Jax’s phone screen. Harper’s face clear as daylight, caught mid-handshake with a man wearing the rival MC’s patch. Her pulse stumbled.“No,” she whispered, shaking her head as if denial could make the pixels rearrange themselves into something innocent. “That could mean anything. A coincidence. Maybe he didn’t know who that man was.”Jax’s mouth tugged into a humorless curve. “Doc, people like Harper don’t shake hands by accident.”She dragged her gaze from the screen to his. Jax’s eyes were sharp, hard, reflecting none of her fragile hope.“He’s my chief of surgery,” she said weakly. “He’s saved lives, mentored—”“And now he’s selling them out,” Jax cut in, voice low but ruthless. “Happens every damn day. Clean suits, dirty hands.”The bluntness stung. But somewhere deep inside, she knew he

Sienna sat on the edge of her bed, her hospital badge lying useless on the nightstand.She’d worn that ID every day for years, swiping it into operating theaters, flashing it at security checkpoints, clipping it proudly to her white coat. Now it felt like nothing more than plastic and lies.The email still burned in her mind: Mandatory Leave of Absence. Harper hadn’t wasted a second. One stroke of his keyboard and her entire career had been reduced to suspicion and stigma.Beside the humiliation was that other message. Anonymous. A single line:If you want the truth about Harper, meet me tomorrow night. Alone.“You’re not going.”Jax’s voice cut through the thick silence of her apartment.He leaned against the wall, arms folded, leather cut draped over his broad shoulders like armor. His eyes were hard, unyielding.She glanced at him. “I have to.”“The hell you do.” He pushed off the wall, crossing the room in two strides. “That’s bait. Clear as day. They’re dangling Harper’s name bec