Page 23 of Dark Desires

He jots this down. “Anything else at all? Any details?”

“A little hard to take in details from behind a table,” I shoot back, annoyed.

Even if I had seen anything, I wouldn’t tell this guy. Growing up in the mob, you learn not to trust anyone, even cops.

Out in the hallway, I can hear my dad storming, all coiled-up fury. He’s pacing back and forth, growling low and lethal at another officer, trying to keep his cool, but sounding one question away from throwing a punch.

The cop questioning me shifts, looking over his shoulder at the hallway, then back at me. “Miss Mancini, anything you remember could help.”

“Like I said, I was a little busy trying not to get my head blown off. But if anything comes to mind, I’ll make sure to shoot you a text. Or do you have Instagram? I could always DM you there.”

He looks like he wishes he could arrest me on the spot.

“Listen, we’re just trying to help,” he says, and I almost feel bad for the guy.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve got nothing else for you.”

The cop shakes his head but says nothing, scribbling in his notebook like he’s writing a grocery list.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Alexei through the little window in the door, standing with one of the other officers. His arms are crossed, his face stony, and I can tell he’s giving the cop nothing.

The cops share a look, one that makes it clear they know they’re not getting anything else out of me. One of them reaches into hispocket and takes out a card, setting it down on the little table next to the hospital bed.

“There’s no Instagram handle on there but call me the old-fashioned way if you’re feeling up to talking.”

“I won’t. But thanks.”

With that, they leave. As soon as they’re gone, I hop out of the bed, a tinge of pain running through my arm, and hurry to the door, dragging my IV pole behind me. I open it and poke my head out. Dad’s gone, but Alexei is still there.

“I’ve already told you. I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” Alexei says. He’s irritated as hell. “Maybe instead of interrogating us, you should be out there finding the people responsible.”

The cop bristles. “Sir, I’m just doing my job.”

“Then do it somewhere else,” Alexei snaps. “My family’s lying in hospital beds, and you’re here asking pointless questions instead of hunting down the people who did this.”

There’s a dark satisfaction in watching the cop’s face go from stern to embarrassed, and I bite back a smirk. Finally, just like they had with me, the cops get the hint and leave him alone.

“Alexei,” I say.

He flicks his eyes to me, then down to my bandage.

“You’re fine?”

“I’m fine.”

“Stephania’s fine, too. Now go back to bed.”

With that, he heads down the hallway, pulling open the door to one of the other rooms and stepping inside. I yank the IV pole after me and follow him down the hall.

I arrive at the room and see my cousin in the bed. She’s still, her eyes closed and her arms at her side.

His face softens as he looks down at her. A pang of jealousy twists in my gut, though I quickly push it down. This is what he’s supposed to do. He’s her fiancé.

And yet, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, seeing the way he stands by her bedside, his expression grave. He places his hand on hers. Sure, this may be an arranged marriage, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s genuinely concerned for her.

Or maybe he’s a total sociopath, a guy who knows how topretendto look like he gives a shit.

A hand on my shoulder startles me, and I turn to see my father standing next to me, his face lined with worry.