Anastasia had set up a meeting with Miss Brooks, and with the appointment time approaching, she was heading out. She’d just gotten to the parking garage to grab her car when two cops walked up to her.
“Excuse me, are you Anastasia Kingsley?”
Anastasia’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“We’re with NYPD. Someone filed an assault complaint against you. We need you to come down to the station for questioning,” the officer said, flashing his badge.
Anastasia carefully checked their credentials to make sure they were legit.
Assault? The first thing that popped into her head was that creepy asshole Jack from the Maldives–the one who got his nuts crushed. But hadn’t Griffin and his crew already dealt with that whole mess? Why the hell was this coming back up now?
Anastasia played it cool and went with them. At the precinct, she found out it really was about the Jack situation.
“The victim claims you used excessive force and committed aggravated assault. Are you willing to confess?”
Anastasia’s jaw tightened. These assholes had been hammering her with the same bullshit questions on repeat since she got here. She’d told them she wasn’t saying jack shit without her lawyer. But they were acting like they had selective hearing or something.
Brutal fluorescent lights blazed down on her, making it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open. The interrogation room was like a goddamn sauna–stuffy and hot as hell. Within minutes, she was drenched in sweat like she’d just run a marathon.
“I want… my lawyer,” Anastasia croaked. She hadn’t had a drop of water in hours, and between the dehydration and those brutal lights, her mouth felt like the Sahara and her throat was burning. But they kept pretending they couldn’t hear a word she said.
“Alright, you wanna play hardball? We’ve got all night, sweetheart.”
Outside the interrogation room, someone’s phone was going off like crazy–ringing, stopping, then starting up again in an endless loop.
“Jesus Christ, whose phone is that? It’s driving me fucking insane!”
“Pretty sure it’s the chick we brought in.”
“She’s being a real pain in the ass, keeps whining about wanting a lawyer.”
“Maybe we should check who’s blowing up her phone?”