Page 3 of Redemption

The thought of being Mrs. Winters for a minute longer makes me sick. I can’t pretend anymore.

“Presley.” He clears his throat. “The statement you gave to the police doesn’t match the witnesses’ statements or the evidence we have. I’d like to know if you’d care to revise your account of the events that transpired early this morning.”

There are witnesses? I guess there’d have to be, but the last thing I remember before waking up in an ambulance is riding the elevator down to my building’s lobby.

“Am I being charged with something?”

I wouldn’t put it past Sebastian to use his connections to shift the blame to me somehow.

He shakes his head. “Not at all. But I would like to ensure the right person pays for their crimes, and I can’t do that without your help.”

I release a sigh. “Look, Mr. Simmons—”

“Derek,” he says with a smile that’s undoubtedly charmed many women out of their panties. “It’s only fair.”

“Derek.” I blow out a breath. “Like I told the first officer who came here, a man broke into my apartment and attacked me. No, I can’t give you more details about his appearance because all the lights were off since I was asleep at the time. Somehow, I managed to fight him off and get away. The last thing I remember is riding in the elevator toward the lobby floor. I have nothing else to say.”

“What do you typically wear to bed at night, Presley?”

I startle at the sudden change in topic.

“Pajamas, like most people. What does that have to do with anything?”

He gives me a knowing look. “According to the security footage, you were wearing slacks and a blouse when you were found, which, as you’ve stated, is not your normal bedtime attire. Are you telling me you took the time to change your clothing before leaving your apartment and fleeing the perpetrator?”

Crap. This guy is too observant for my liking. I glare at him again, but I don’t think it’s as effective as I’d like with only one eye.

“I fell asleep on the couch while I was waiting for my husband to return. I hadn’t changed into my pajamas yet.”

Derek frowns. “You live in a highly secure building. No one can access the penthouse without a keycard to your private elevator. The doorman confirmed your husband came home around midnight but left again approximately one hour later. Security footage shows you stumbling out of the elevator shortly after that, right before you collapsed onto the lobby floor. Look. I appreciate how delicate this situation is, considering your husband’s... influence. I truly don’t want to pressure you after everything you’ve been through, but I can’t prevent this from happening again if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Yeah, right. Like I’m going to trust anything this guy has to say. For all I know, Sebastian put him up to this.

I clench my jaw but forcibly relax when a shooting pain reminds me how many hits it took earlier. “I am telling the truth. I have nothing else to say.”

“Where was your husband going at one in the morning?”

“I have no idea. Not that it’s any of your business, but we had a fight, and Sebastian stormed out. Now, if you have any more questions for me, I think I should have my lawyer present as this conversation seems to have taken a turn into an interrogation.”

He releases a harsh exhale as he reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket again. He produces a business card and extends it in my direction. As I eye it warily, making no attempt to grab it, he says, “You have options, Presley. I have zero loyalty to your husband, and I can help. Don’t let him get away with this. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”

With that, he stands up, places the card on my bedside table, and leaves the room. When he’s out of sight, I pick up the rectangular cardstock.

Derek Simmons

Special Agent

917-555-0156

At the bottom, there’s an address to the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Civic Center office. What the heck? Why would the FBI be interested in a case like this? I set the card down and allow my eyes to drift closed, willing the throbbing in my head to go away. The doctor offered me some prescription painkillers, but I declined. Those things make my head fuzzy, and that’s the last thing I need right now because my head is already spinning. It probably doesn’t help that I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

“Knock, knock.” I blink rapidly as the nurse who’s been taking care of me enters my room. Huh. I must’ve dozed off for a bit. “I have good news! As soon as I get that IV out, you’re all set to go home. Your husband just arrived, and—”

“Could I have a moment alone with my wife, please?”

My entire body stiffens at the sound of his voice. Damn it. I knew it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find out which hospital I was in considering the police involvement, but I had hoped I’d have more time. I take a sip of water from the cup the nurse gave me earlier and set it back on the bedside table, this time, directly over Agent Simmons’ business card. I’m pretty sure Sebastian would actually kill me if he thought I ratted him out. Hell, he might do it anyway if recent events are any indication.

“Oh... of course,” the nurse stutters. “I’ll give you two a few minutes. You must’ve been so worried.”

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