Page 125 of Pink

That didn’t stop Gigi from staring at the screen of the phone, her reflection looking back in the black glass, while a police detective sat across from her hard waiting room chair on his own. Up until that moment, the man had been patient with her silence and shock. He didn’t push for more of a statement than she was willing to give; he was able to give her a better update on her mother’s current situation than even her assistant or the rest of her team when they finally arrived at the hospital.

The detective was also starting to get annoyed. Gigi could tell by the way he rapped a beat with the tip of his pen against the face of his watch. Though he wasn’t verbally telling her to speed it up, he also didn’t have to for her to get the point.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Gigi said, her voice a croak from having cried for hours. Just when she thought she was out of tears, more started to fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks. “I told you everything I know.”

“Did you?”

Scrubbing her palms down her face, Gigi could still see the detective eyeing her through her fingers. His previous sympathy, especially after a nurse had brought a Valium and water for Gigi to take, was practically non-existent.

“You’re telling me honestly,” the detective continued, “that you don’t know why your hotel room was broken into today; why one of your bodyguards was found dead; why your mother was battered, gagged, hog-tied, and left in the bathroom? Where, by the way, one of the assailants specifically wrote to you in blood on the mirror that you were next?”

Gigi opened her mouth to speak but the man raised a single hand high, stopping her so he could say, “We’re quite aware the man who was killed today has connections to the Marcello organization. Considering your relationship with another Marcello associate—Pink, the enforcer for Andino Marcello, the boss of the operation—”

“I know him as Lev.”

And that was all she wanted to know.

The detective clicked his tongue, dismissing her statement when he continued on with, “Nonetheless, I’m not willing to believe you’re as ignorant about what happened today as you want me to believe, Miss Parker.”

She blinked, the knot in her throat swelling to an impossible size. “Are you blaming me?”

“I didn’t—”

“It kind of sounds like you think I know who it was, and I don’t. My agency can provide you with an entire list of stalkers they have on their radar. The same list is given to my security team that they keep updated because they have to. Most of them are harmless. It can’t be said for all of them, though. As public as I am … trust that I have my fair share of crazies that could cause problems.”

“So much so that you need a hoard of mob enforcers—criminals—added to your security team?” the detective asked sharply, his brow arching high. “Because the rest I could get in line with … right up until we come back around to that little detail. You’ve been in the media a lot lately, haven’t you? And your … boyfriend.”

She didn’t like the way he twisted the word criminal as if there was more to it than he was saying. It also bothered her more than she could explain that the man simply labeled the enforcers as criminals like that was all they were. Lev was an enforcer, too, but he was also so much more than just that title.

“And?” she asked, no longer willing to pretend with this man.

She gave her statement.

She knew nothing.

It wouldn’t change.

What were they doing at this point?

Setting his pad of paper and pen aside, the detective leaned forward on his chair, resting his clasped hands over his knees. Maybe in an attempt to revert back to his previously friendly, sympathetic demeanor. It didn’t make a difference to her when he had already made his position perfectly clear about what he thought regarding her and the attack at her hotel suite.

“Do you need help?” he asked. “We can help you. Whatever you need … I’m not sure what’s gotten you tangled in the mob, Miss Parker, but you do have options. Just say the word and I can make it happen.”

Her brow dipped as she considered what he told her.

Did she need help?

Yes.

But not from him.

“I’ve given my statement,” she replied, “and now I would like to sit with my mother. Please.”

The detective let out a hard breath, sitting straight in his chair once more. Nodding, he snatched up the pad and pen, not bothering to give her another look when he said, “I’m sure you’ll find a nurse to take you to her room. Good luck. I hear you have a big day happening, don’t you? I’m sure the two of us will be seeing each other again.”

She certainly hoped not.

Not that she would be so lucky.