“Tell me who you are,” I demand, cringing at the quiver in my voice. Fear is seeping out of me, giving me away.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he says in a gentle tone. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

I flatten my back to the wall and keep my eyes trained on him like a hawk. “How about you tell me who you are and let me decide that for myself. Are you… Do you work for my father? Or are you one of his enemies?”

“Neither.” He mutters something under his breath again and curses about a thousand times. “I’m Federal Agent Stale. I work for the FBI.”

My lips part in shock. Not at all what I was expecting. “I don’t… no you can’t…” I shake my head. “You’re lying.”

He sticks his hand into the pocket of his pants and retrieves a leather wallet. Then he stands from the chair, opens the wallet, and shows me the silver metal inside—his badge.

I stare at it disbelief. “Am I hallucinating again?”

His face contorts in confusion. “Do you do that a lot?”

“I…” I’m struck speechless. When Evan had injected me with the drug, I never expected to wake up with an FBI agent. And where the hell is Ryler?

I scan the room, searching for signs of him, my clothes, my phone, anything belonging to my old life, but it’s like it’s—I’ve—been erased. I veer toward a panic attack, my breathing turning ragged as my pulse soars through the roof.

“Emery, I promise I’m not going to hurt you,” the agent says, concerned. “In fact, I’m here to help you.”

“Help me with what?” I gasp for air, inching back, but I’m already backed up to the wall. I have nowhere to go. “No one can help me anymore.”

“That’s not true. I promise I can help you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Sure you can, but only for a price, right? Isn’t that the way things go?”

He tensely massages the back of his neck. “I’m not going to lie to you.” His arm falls to the side, and he straightens his stance. “I do want something from you, but you have my word that you’ll be protected if you give me what I want.”

“I have your word.” A sharp laugh escapes my lips. “I don’t even know you, and yet you just what? Expect me to trust you.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “Aren’t you curious about what I want?”

“No.” I inch toward the window, putting distance between us.

“Why not?”

“Because I already know what you want.” I spring for the window and reach out to open it, but it doesn’t even have a latch.

“How on earth can you possibly know what I want?” he asks from behind me, sounding as calm as can be.

I whirl around and face him. Panic swims through my veins as my vision spots in and out of focus. “Do you think I’m stupid?” I blink to hold onto reality, fight not to let my panic attack get the best of me.

He gapes at me. “No, not at all. Why would you say that?”

“Because you asked me if I know why I’m here. Of course I do. I know who I am, where I come from, so when a federal agent shows up in my life, I’m pretty sure I know the reason behind it.”

“Oh, well, then good. I don’t have to explain it to you.” He offers me a warm smile, and I swallow hard.

Something still doesn’t feel right.

“I still don’t know why I’m in this room, though,” I point out, leaning against the wall, “instead of at a police station. And I’m not sure how I got here.”

“That’s because this entire situation has become extremely complicated.” He pauses. “And kind of dangerous.”

“Everything is always complicated and dangerous,” I tell him. “That’s life.”

He sighs then returns to his chair and motions to the bed. “Sit down and I’ll explain a few things to you. Hopefully we can clear up some of your confusion.”

I eye the door then the bed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, reading my silence.

“I know you aren’t going to physically hurt me.” I remain motionless for a few more minutes, while the detective patiently waits for me to make up my mind. Finally, seeing no other alternative, I cross the room and sit down on the bed. “Why am I here in a motel room?”

“Because the police station isn’t a safe place for you to be,” he replies without missing a beat. “Bringing you here was the only alternative.”

“Why isn’t it safe? Are the police corrupt?” I wouldn’t be surprised with how powerful Donny Elderman is. “Are you corrupt?” I ask, realizing how easily he could be working for Donny or my father.

The detective shakes his head. “No, I’m not corrupt. I’m the opposite of corrupt.” He reclines back in the seat and props his foot up on his knee. “Besides, corruptness isn’t the reason you’re not at the station.”

“Then what is the reason?” I aim to sound firm, calm, and steady as a rock, but I’m a nervous wreck, and it shows through my off-pitch voice.

“Because we have someone there you know,” he answers, watching me closely. “And we found it necessary to make sure the two of you aren’t near each other for the time being.”