Chapter 5
Darius
The sight of Wilson-fucking-Culberson’s hands on Ingrid tears through me.
Rage swallows everything, painting my vision red.
His fate is sealed—death. Murder charges be damned.
My men will bury him so deep no one will ever find him.
And if they can’t, I’ll wear the cuffs. Do the time.
Worth it, just to see him stop breathing.
Her voice—shredded, pleading—cuts through the storm in my head. The sound drags me out of the red haze. I stop. Reluctantly. Grant myself one last kick, sending him crashing to his knees. It’s petty, maybe, but it feels good after he had the audacity to mouth off, like I should fear him.
Make no mistake—I am most certainly threatening him. If he so much as breathes the same air as her again, I will end him.
After I scoop her off the ground and carry her to the SUV, we drive straight to the hospital. She drifts in and out of consciousness, mumbling nonsense, like she’s trying to speak through a thick fog. If I’d not known better, I’d think she’s drunk. Yet her swollen face reveals a different story.
The staff at the ER quickly jumps in to help when they see her motionless in my arms.
“What’s her name?” A nurse rushes over to take a closer look.
“Ingrid Lennox.”
Someone rolls a gurney next to me. “We need you to put her down, sir. Let us help her.”
I know what they’re thinking. My knuckles are a bloody mess. My shirt isn’t much better. One look at me and I’d likely have made the same assumption.
“I’ll carry her. You lead the way,” I try, but they’re not about to let me back there. I’m a visible threat in their minds, and they’re only doing their jobs.
“Put her down. You can wait in the lobby. Once the doctor assesses her, he’ll come out and talk to you.” The nurse’s face is stern, her frown one that would probably work on the average Joe.
They think it’s my fault, and I kinda see their point, but there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’m leaving her side. “Not happening.”
The doors behind me open as my men drag Wilson inside. He looks bad, and I’d smile if I weren’t so worried about the woman in my arms.
Turning to the nurse waiting for me to put Ingrid on the gurney, I confess. “He looks like that because he did this. I was defending her. Now get the hell out of my way and tell me what room you want her in.”
Ingrid’s fists tighten around my shirt as she whimpers and says, “He stays. I want him with me.”
The nurse isn’t happy, but nods and motions for me to follow her. She leads us to a curtained area and steps aside so I can place Ingrid on the bed.
Her grip on my shirt is desperate, unrelenting. It takes patience to ease her hold. “Hey,” I lean closer, letting her hear the vow in my voice. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sadness floods her eyes as she stares up at me. “Promise?”
“You have my word.” I sketch an X over my heart with one finger.
Only then does she release me, her hand slackening so I can step aside. I let go of her hand only long enough for the nurse to check her vitals and write a few notes on her chart.
When she’s done, she yanks the curtain wide and steps into the hall. “The doctor will be in soon. This stays open until then. Understand?”
“Yes.” I drag a chair next to Ingrid’s bed and sit silently with her while we wait.
Five minutes later, the doctor walks in. He doesn’t speak to me. Only Ingrid.
“How did this happen?”
Ingrid closes her eyes, recounting every detail.
Each word sets me off; my blood boils hotter. It takes everything in me not to storm out of this room and finish what I started with Wilson. He didn’t deserve mercy.
“We’ll need to run some tests. Until then, you need to rest.” Finally turning to me, he says, “It would be best if you could wait in the waiting room. She needs rest, and I’m not sure your being here is allowing her to relax.”
“I’m not leaving.” When she trembles at the idea of my leaving, I squeeze her hand. “I did not do this to her. I was protecting her from him. Get that through your head.”
“He stays,” Ingrid whispers as closes her eyes. “He stays.”
It’s the longest fucking two hours of my life. I’m on edge and ready to explode. Patience isn’t a virtue I possess. Especially when it comes to the woman seated next to me in pain.
Ingrid’s final diagnosis is a concussion, which is moderate, not severe.
Her cheekbone has a hairline fracture, which will eventually mend.
The dark purple and blossoming yellow bruises on her face will worsen and become more painful in the next couple of days.
If she has any trouble with her vision or becomes dizzy, she’s to return immediately.
The doctor’s instructions are explicit: complete rest for three days, no electronics, and under no circumstances should she be left alone.
“Not a problem. She’ll be staying with me,” I inform the doctor.
The weight of his judgment hangs heavy in the air. “I can call someone else, Miss Lennox. Just say the word.” He’s obviously skeptical of our story.
Tossing her head back, Ingrid repeats it one more time. “He didn’t do this to me. The other man who was admitted at the same time as me did.”
Standing, he shrugs and walks out, still giving off the vibe that he’s heard it all before.
Shortly after, a man walks in, a badge visible on his hip.
“Hello. I’m Detective Jones. I’m investigating the assault on Mr. Culberson.
” Looking directly at me, he hits me in a way I didn’t see coming.
“He’s claiming you jumped him, Mr. Falcon, when he and Miss Lennox were enjoying a kiss behind the building.
Says you pulled him off of her, did that to her face, and then turned your anger on him when he tried to stop you. Is that what happened?”
“Not even close.” Reaching into my back pocket, the familiar feel of the soft leather in my hand. I flip my wallet open and pull out what I need and pass it to him. “First of all, in full disclosure, even if it were, you can’t touch me.”
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 them erased. 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.”