Protecting What's His (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Hot damn, Wip. We’ve got a stone-cold fox on our hands.”

Willa flipped Ginger the bird without looking away from the full-length mirror. “This touching family sitcom moment brought to you by the letters F and U.”

Her sister tried valiantly to play down the transformation she’d undergone in the last hour, but Ginger noticed the flush of pleasure on her cheeks as she surveyed her appearance.

They stood in Ginger’s bedroom early Saturday evening getting Willa dressed for prom. Something Ginger never would have believed a month ago. She’d found the heather gray cocktail dress Willa now wore at a vintage shop in Noble Square after hunting for half a day. Sensing Willa would balk at anything too colorful, she’d didn’t mind congratulating herself on picking the simple, strapless dress that fit Willa’s small frame to perfection.

Willa gave Ginger full creative control, and after removing the heavy black eyeliner, Ginger had applied a tasteful amount of makeup, playing up her sister’s natural glow, and pulled her hair away from her face in a classic twist. If Ginger hadn’t shared a room with Willa for seventeen years, she would barely recognize her except for the nose ring.

“What time is Evan coming to pick you up?”

“Seven-thirty. We’re going to dinner with some of his friends before the dance.”

Ginger nodded, trying to appear as confident as Willa. This is where they differed. Ginger thrived in social situations where she didn’t have to interact with one single person. She could jump from conversation to conversation and move on when the subject got too heavy or personal. Willa, on the other hand, didn’t generally play well with others. Not that Ginger didn’t have faith in her sister, especially this new, school-activity-participating Willa. But she knew she’d worry until Willa walked through the door later.

Ginger produced a black sequined clutch that she’d kept hidden in her closet and handed it to Willa. As she’d predicted, it looked fabulous with the dress and matching black heels.

Their eyes met in the mirror. “Please make sure you take your cell phone, Willa. There is some money in the purse if you need it. For dinner. For a cab. Anything.”

Willa laughed at Ginger’s fierce expression, then sobered. “Ginger, I’m going to be fine. It just seems like a big deal because I never go out.”

“Okay, just a few more things and I’ll be finished.” She took a deep breath. “No drugs. No getting into a car with someone who has been drinking. Don’t have sex on the first date, but if you do, there’s a condom in the purse. Please, please don’t need to use it. But I won’t ask if you did.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Shut up. You look beautiful. Have a great time.”

Willa’s face broke into a dazzling smile. “Thanks for the dress, the makeup. Everything.”

Ginger held back her tears. “You’re welcome.”

Her sister looked like she wanted to say something else but hesitated.

“Spit it out, Wip.”

“Am I being a jackass, trusting Evan like this?”

Ginger thought for a moment, taking the question seriously. It might have been posed in typical Willa fashion, but vulnerability lingered behind it. “No, you’re not being a jackass. Is it a risk? Yes. But I don’t think you’d place your trust easily, Willa. Now you just have to have faith in your own judgment. Coming to Chicago was a risk, but we took it. Maybe it’s time we take a few more.”

Willa nodded, absorbing her words. “Kind of like you with the lieutenant?”

At the mention of Derek, Ginger felt her insides melt. He’d been working around the clock since the raid, busy with paperwork and interrogations of the arrested men. She’d woken alone in Derek’s bed in the early evening after their morning together. Disoriented at having slept through most of the day, she’d stretched her tender muscles and risen to return to her own apartment, trying her best not to panic over his having left a second time without saying good-bye.

On the counter in Derek’s kitchen, she’d found a white sack of chocolate doughnuts and a carton of orange juice, sitting on top of a giant stack of magazines. Smiling cautiously, she’d ripped off the note attached to the bag with her name written on it.

Make me something. I want a reminder of you in my apartment at all times.

Of course he couldn’t just buy her flowers. That wouldn’t have been his style. Knowing the perfect piece to use, she’d retrieved it from her apartment and spent the rest of the evening in Derek’s place, munching on doughnuts and working on his project. And okay, maybe she’d snooped a little in the name of inspiration. He didn’t keep photographs around the apartment, which made her wonder about his family. In the kitchen cabinet, she’d found a shoebox full of Cubs baseball cards ruthlessly sorted by date, and an envelope tucked inside containing ticket stubs dating back to the eighties.

Her little discoveries, including his collection of old Western movies, made Ginger grow more and more curious about him and how he’d grown up. Had she been so focused on hiding her past from him, she’d overlooked the fact that he hid one, too?

Although his schedule hadn’t permitted time for any more meaningful conversations, he called and texted her throughout his workday, clearly making a concerted effort to assuage her fears.

The content of those text and phone exchanges often made her blush.

Yesterday, her phone beeped while in the produce aisle of the supermarket. Checking the screen, she’d dropped a cantaloupe upon viewing the text message from Derek.

Craving you, Ginger.

She could have texted him back that she’d thought of him constantly since their morning in bed. Or how needing him had become a constant physical ache. But she wanted to say those things to him in person, so she’d replied:

Oooh. I have two, ripe melons in my hands. Wanna see?

YES

She’d snapped a picture of the cantaloupes, sent it, and continued her shopping, chuckling to herself all the way through the frozen foods section.

That night, long after falling asleep, she’d woken to his hands stroking over her body. Up her legs, over her hips, circling her breasts, then down to caress between her thighs. Ginger always slept on her side and his naked body spooned her, back to front.

“Wake up, you little cock tease,” he’d growled against her neck. Then he’d pushed into her from behind, taking her as she moaned into the pillow.

Ginger pulled herself out of the reveries and refocused on Willa. “Yes, like me and the lieutenant.”

Her sister snorted. “Ginger, don’t ever play poker for money.”

Ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Ginger made a shooing gesture to Willa, who stood in the kitchen. “Go in the other room. You have to make an entrance.” Willa rolled her eyes but did as she was told. Ginger checked through the peephole to make sure Evan stood on the other side, then pulled open the door.

“Hey, Ginger.”

“Evan.” She stepped aside to let him in, hiding her smile over how handsome he looked in his black dress pants and button-down shirt. Her sister knew how to pick ’em. “Are you driving tonight?”

“No. My friends and I chipped in on a limo. I hope that’s okay.”

“As long as you don’t use it as an excuse to drink. I don’t care what you do on your own time, but I want my sister brought home safe, Mr. Carmichael.”

Evan ran a nervous hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I’m not going to lie to you—some of my friends will probably drink tonight. But you have my word that I won’t touch a drop. I want Willa safe, too.”

She appreciated his honesty and smiled to let him know. “Okay, then. We understand each other.”

“Ginger, can I come out now?” Willa called impatiently from her bedroom.

“I suppose.”

The bedroom door opened and Ginger snapped Evan’s reaction shot on her cell phone. He looked like he’d been struck dumb at the sight of Willa coming toward him. She saved the photo of Evan with the intention of showing it to Willa the next time she felt unsure of his feelings for her. The poor kid looked two seconds away from throwing himself at her feet.

“Whoa.”

“Hey.” Willa shifted from side to side, looking uneasy under Evan’s scrutiny. She pretended to adjust the bracelet Ginger lent her to avoid his eyes.

“Willa, stop.”

Both sisters gaped at Evan.

“Stop what?” Willa managed.

“I can tell you’re freaking out.” He held out his hand to her. “Stop.”

Ginger watched, fascinated, as Willa’s eyes glassed over and she bit her bottom lip. Nodding, she reached out and took his hand.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed.

Willa’s face transformed with her smile. Safely tucked into Evan’s side, they walked to the door. Ginger stood rooted to her spot, unable to believe the exchange she’d just witnessed. How had Evan come to understand Willa so well in such a short period of time?

Letting Willa live her own life without interference had always seemed like the best approach, but now Ginger wasn’t so sure. Of course, she provided support whenever necessary and she liked to think they were best friends. But maybe she’d chosen to remain at a distance because it was easier for her, not Willa. By ignoring their mutual past and making light of the horrors they’d experienced, she’d set a horrible example.
Pretend your problems don’t exist and push through
had always been her philosophy. She never stopped to think it might be the wrong one. Willa had been given no choice but to follow suit.

It was time she fixed the mess she’d made.

Before they could walk out the door, Ginger stopped the couple. “Wait up, Wip. Evan, can I just have one minute with my sister?”

“Sure.” He walked out into the hallway to wait, throwing one more glance at her over his shoulder as he went.

Willa searched her face. “What’s up?”

Ginger fought to maintain her composure so as not to alarm Willa. She needed to find the right words to express her regret without giving herself away entirely.

“I just need to tell you that I’m going to do better. Okay? I want you to be as proud of me as I am of you right now. I’m going to do the right thing from now on.”

Smiling, Willa shook her head. “Ginger, you’re just emotional because I’m wearing a dress.”

“You’re right. That must be it,” she lied.

“I promise I’ll be back in a hoodie by tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Ginger opened the door and pushed her out. “Have fun, you two.”

Ginger closed the door behind them and blew out a shaky breath. Then she turned and walked to the Dolly statue. With a small twist to the right, the blonde’s head dislodged. She reached inside and pulled out the canvas bag.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Derek walked into his apartment and flipped on the lights. He set down the bottle of wine he’d picked up on the drive home and unstrapped his shoulder holster, laying it on the kitchen table. After finally wrapping up the paperwork and briefings pertaining to the Modesto case, he looked forward to a couple of much-needed days off. As soon as he took a shower and changed out of his wrinkled work clothes, he planned on dragging Ginger out of her apartment and into his bed. He’d see to her pleasure and then he’d damn well sleep for at least ten straight hours.

Tomorrow night, when he felt semi-human, he planned on taking Ginger out on an actual date. She’d been patient with his demanding work schedule. Almost too patient, as if she didn’t expect anything from him. That shit would come to an end this weekend. He wanted Ginger to expect
everything
from him.

Derek refused to put off their conversation about the stolen money any longer. She’d been on the verge of telling him as they’d lain in bed together a few days ago, he was sure of it, but she’d balked at the last minute. Although he’d wanted to push, she’d already looked so damn vulnerable after his confession that he’d researched her past, Derek didn’t have the heart. This weekend, he would come clean that he already knew. And there would no longer be any secrets between them. He wouldn’t allow it to fester. Not when she meant so much to him.

Additionally, Derek hated having the loose end. So he’d tied it up. As long as Ginger remained in possession of the money, her safety would be in question. It made him crazed to think what could happen if a shady character such as Haywood Devon learned of her whereabouts. But with the help of his contact in Nashville and the national criminal database, Derek had found something he could use to put Devon behind bars for a long time, if not for good.

It had been his experience that, in most criminal enterprises, members tended to branch out when the well dried up. Which is exactly what happened a few years back for Devon when his then-partner left Nashville in search of greener pastures.

Thankfully, the partner in question had branched out to Chicago, bringing a wealth of information about his shady Nashville past, including valuable dirt on Devon. All Derek had to do was make him talk—something he planned to get right on now that they’d busted up Modesto’s gang ring.

Derek caught Ginger’s scent and turned, half expecting to find her waiting for him. Instead, he saw a lacquered box, decorated with one of Ginger’s trademark designs, complete with a metal fastening where he could insert a lock. A gun box. Picking it up, he laughed at some of the magazine and newspaper headlines she’d interspersed with pictures of Dirty Harry and John Wayne.

Dirty mouth? Clean it up!

Guns don’t kill people, zombies kill people.

Mean people duck.

Opening the lid, Derek found a note with his name on it, next to a smiley face. Positive he was grinning like a jackass, he unfolded the paper.

Derek,

There is something I need to take care of. Try not to worry.

Please check in on Willa.

I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me.

Ginger xo

Smile fading, a heavy sense of dread settled in the pit of Derek’s stomach.

Okay. Okay, relax. She probably just went to the store.

Snatching his phone off the counter, he pressed the speed dial for Ginger’s cell. It went straight to voice mail. He swallowed a curse.

Trying valiantly to calm his mounting panic, Derek flung open his apartment door and strode down the hallway. Maybe he’d caught her before she left.
Please
let him have caught her. He took the stairs three at a time, reaching the third floor and her apartment in seconds. The hollow sound of his fist rapping against her door echoed through his skull.

Within seconds, he heard footsteps and the sound of the deadbolt lock turning. His head dropped forward, body deflating with relief. He would shake some sense into Ginger the second the door opened and beg her never to scare him like this again. Bracing his hands on either side of the door, Derek attempted to dial back his panic. He didn’t want to start the weekend off by terrifying her.

“Lieutenant. What brings you by this fine evening?”

Derek’s head shot up. Patty, the dispatch operator, stood in the doorway dressed in a fuzzy orange robe and slippers, holding a gossip magazine in her hands. It took him a moment to process her appearance in Ginger’s apartment.

“What are you doing here? Where is Ginger?”

“It’s wonderful to see you, too.”

“Patty, answer me now.”

She seemed to realize then that something serious was afoot, because her demeanor went from teasing to businesslike. “I don’t know where Ginger is. She called and asked me to hang out here until Willa got home from the dance, and to stay the night. She said I owed her for that stunt I pulled, sending her to the hospital thinking you’d been shot.”

Derek tried to breathe, but the air lodged in his chest. “How long have you been here?”

“She left about four hours ago.”

“Jesus.”

“Is everything okay, Derek?”

“Did she leave you Willa’s number?”

Patty didn’t take the time to answer, just ducked back in the apartment and returned a moment later holding a slip of paper with Ginger’s handwriting on it. It listed his and Willa’s numbers along with Lenny’s and a short, vague note for Willa, much like his own.

He punched Willa’s number in his phone. When she answered, the blast of dance music in the background nearly drowned her voice out completely.

“Where is Ginger?” he demanded. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

“Derek? Wait, hold on. Let me go outside so I can actually hear you.”

By the time she came back on the line, Derek’s patience had reached a breaking point. His voice reflected the strain. “Willa, think. Do you have any idea where your sister might have gone?”

His tone seemed to give her pause. “No. Isn’t she at home?”

Derek paced the hallway like a caged animal. “She’s not here. She left me a note saying she had something important to do.”

Willa didn’t speak for a long moment. “Oh God.”

Derek froze, his hand tightening on the phone. “What, goddammit?”

“I can’t believe this. I really fucked up.”

“Explain. Now.”

She dragged in a gulp of breath. “Earlier this week, I was upset over something. I couldn’t find Ginger. She wouldn’t answer her phone. So I…I called our mother.”

Derek’s vision blurred around the edges.

“I called her house phone,” Willa said quickly. “There’s no caller ID. She doesn’t know we’re in Chicago.”

Relief threatened to swamp him, but there had to be more. He could feel the ax above his head, waiting to drop. “Then how exactly did you fuck up, Willa?”

Willa’s voice shook as she rambled out the story. “My mother told me Ginger stole some money from her. The night we left. Ginger never told me, but it makes total sense now. Why she snuck me out in the middle of the night.”

Derek left behind a gaping Patty, rushing toward his apartment. “And someone back home wants the money back. Is that what your mother told you?”

“Yes,” Willa whispered. “Derek, my sister’s not a thief. You don’t know what it was like—”

He cut her off, already knowing the answer to his question. “
Where. Is. Ginger?
”

“I think she’s on her way to Nashville. I know her. Just before I left for the dance, she told me she was going to do the right thing. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but it’s the money. It has to be.” Willa choked on a sob. “Oh God, she doesn’t know what’s waiting for her down there.”

“Shit!” Derek hung up and redialed Ginger’s number. He’d planned for every eventuality except Ginger’s willfulness. She’d been the wild card all along. And now his carefully laid plan was blowing up in his face. His fist slammed against the wall as he waited for the beep. “Ginger, you turn the goddamn car around right now or I’m coming after you. Call me back
immediately
.”

He needed to move. The drive from Chicago to Nashville would take about eight hours and she was already halfway there. Derek hung up the call and grabbed his gun and car keys. Ginger wouldn’t turn the car around. He knew it for a fact.

He crumpled the note in his fist and threw it against the wall. Try not to worry? She would be a target the moment she entered Nashville. Valerie knew Ginger had the money. By now, that information had gotten back to Haywood Devon. And Ginger thought she could waltz back into the picture and return what she’d stolen without any consequences?

Re-holstering his gun, Derek hit redial on his cell and waited once more for the beep, closing his eyes at the sound of Ginger’s soft drawl. God, he wanted her safe in his arms so bad it physically pained him.

“Baby, listen to me. There are things you don’t know. You are walking into a very dangerous situation. Pull over and wait for me, please.” He swallowed. “Ginger, I need you. Don’t do this.”

Derek didn’t wait for her to call back, knowing she wouldn’t anyway. He took two quick steps toward his desk and picked up the file he’d been building on Haywood Devon over the past week, then slammed out of his apartment.

If he broke the speed limit and got lucky with traffic, he would be in Nashville by morning. Every hour would be critical if he had a shot in hell of saving Ginger.