He looks at my identification, rubs his neck, and then passes it back to me. “Diplomatic immunity. Well, that certainly adds a twist to this case.”
Taking it back, I nod. “Yes, it does. However, what he’s claiming isn’t what happened.”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter, now does it?” He closes his notebook, ready to end this.
“So, he’ll get away with this?” The tremor in Ingrid’s voice makes it clear she’s furious.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do. Mr. Falcon just pulled the one card I can’t fight. I can have him?—”
“Mr. Falcon didn’t do this!” she yells so loud the entire ER can now hear her. “How many times do I have to say this? Wilson did. He flew into a rage after I refused to let him control my life and then attacked me. He’s throwing a tantrum like the spoiled little brat he is, and I want to press charges.” She sits up straighter. “I can do that, right?”
“If you can prove he did just that, then yes.” Detective Jones sighs as if he feels his time is being wasted. “But it’s his word against yours.”
“The cameras should’ve caught it all on tape,” she says, her eyes darting nervously.
The detective, now intrigued, nods for her to continue.
“They were installed in all alleys and hidden areas last spring after a female student was raped. I was on the committee that fought for them. Most students probably don’t even know these exist. Wilson isn’t concerned about matters that aren’t important to him or his precious fraternity, so I’m sure he had no clue. But they are. If you contact campus security, they can show it to you.”
I’m already on it. As soon as she spoke the words, I texted my head of security. My team’s heading that way right now to ensure Warren Culberson doesn’t pay someone to have themerased. They’ll watch it first and then hand everything over to the police as soon as the warrant comes through.
Ingrid recounts the events while the detective records her statement. Twenty minutes later, he shakes my hand and apologizes before leaving to do his job. I’m sure he’ll stop by Wilson’s room on his way out to see if he’d like to change his story. I doubt he will.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” I ask when the nurse brings the discharge papers for her to sign.
Ingrid reaches for her phone. “I need to call my roommate to come get me.”
I snag it before she can reach it and hold it hostage.
Frowning, she questions, “What are you doing?”
“You aren’t supposed to be on this. Doctor’s orders—no electronics. I’ll hold on to it until you’ve been cleared.” I shove it into my front pocket. “We’ll be chilling in my suite where I can keep an eye on you. I’m not confident your roommate is responsible enough to do that. The only person I trust to take care of you is me. Are you ready to go?”
“So, I don’t get a say in this? You’re taking over, and that’s that?” With a sigh, Ingrid crosses her arms over her chest. “Why am I not surprised? You’re just like the rest of them. Whatever. In seventy-two hours, I’ll be well enough to leave and take back my control then. If you push me, I’ll call Freddie and have her speak with Stan.”
I smirk as I help her into the wheelchair they brought in to roll her out of this joint. “Is that a threat?”
A smart-arse smirk plays on Ingrid’s lips as she glances over her shoulder and shrugs. “I don’t make threats. That’s a promise. One you’d be wise to take seriously.”
Goddamn, this woman is copping it, and if she weren’t concussed, I’d show her just how serious I am. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter 6
Ingrid
Ignoring a man like Darius Falcon under normal circumstances is tough enough. His presence can be felt the moment he enters a room. It’s even harder when the man hovers, ready to take care of you like no one before him ever has.
I have to get out of here before I’m swept away by his charm. Now that Wilson’s gone and my past is behind me, I can start over and look to the future. I’ve got plans of my own, and they don’t include a man.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Darius that relationships were a heartbreak waiting to happen. While I haven’t been in many, I’ve experienced enough heartbreak to know I would rather skip finding out.
Plus, I like it better when I’m alone. People often annoy me, with three exceptions—my three closest friends, who made boarding school tolerable. We found comfort and strength in each other, creating an unbreakable family bond. We all had family problems, including Prince Lorenzo. It was a friendship that surprised most. A prince, the rebel, the black sheep, and the survivor.
Thinking about my past brings up painful memories I’d rather avoid. My family never talks about what happened. Even now, the ghost of my tenth year hangs heavy, a suffocating weight of loss and loneliness I carry every day. We weren’t the perfect family, but we were happier before hell rained down on us. For the past two days, those memories have been relentless, a constant ache in my chest, a phantom limb where the other half of my soul used to reside.
It was a perfect summer day. My twin brother and I were playing in the fields, like we did most days. Running around like children. He was chasing me with a frog he’d found hanging out by the pond. Israel loved making me scream. Found it funny I would run when he grabbed the slimiest creatures and tried to place them on me. I hated it, but I also loved it.
One minute we were running and laughing; the next, it all changed.
