Protecting What's His (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Peering into the darkened house and deeming it empty, Ginger jiggled the broken window leading to her old bedroom, unsurprised to find it still in disrepair. From her position on the ground, she slid the window as far up as possible, then tossed the canvas sack through the opening. When no one came running, she dragged over an old paint can to boost herself over the sill and climbed inside. The sound of her cowboy boots hitting the floor echoed through the still house and Ginger paused a moment to listen for movement besides her own. Silence greeted her ears.

Glancing around the room, she noted in disgust that Willa’s bed still lay unmade from the morning they’d skipped town. Just being in the room made her feel fragile, more vulnerable. In two short weeks, she’d transformed from her previous self. This tiny, airless room was already a distant memory from her past. It made Ginger’s skin crawl to remember the things she and Willa had experienced in that very room, so she picked up the bag and walked determinedly through the door leading to the hallway, refusing to dwell on it anymore.

Returning the cash symbolized so much more than doing the honorable thing or being a better role model for Willa. Ginger was doing it for herself, too. As long as she held on to any piece of the past, even in the form of cash, she would never be able to let it go. She’d learned invaluable lessons about human nature inside these four walls, but every decision she made throughout her life couldn’t reflect the past or ultimately, it would beat her.

Nothing
could beat Ginger, at least not without a fight. Especially now. Love had made her invincible. In a backward way, she supposed, returning the money was her way of moving forward with Derek. She had a feeling he would strongly disagree with her. And if she could gather the courage to listen to his thirty-eight voice mails, she could confirm her theory.

She should’ve dropped off the money and been halfway back to Chicago by now, but the General, picking a convenient time to surrender, had blown its fan belt outside of Springfield, delaying her for three frustrating hours until the mechanic could complete the repair. She sat in a truck stop diner sipping coffee and studiously ignoring her phone the entire time. It might make her a coward, but she couldn’t afford to lose her resolve. Besides, if Derek really wanted her as he’d said, accepting her stubborn nature would be step one.

No, Ginger corrected herself, he
did
want her. She needed to stop thinking in terms of
ifs
and
maybes
. The sooner she stashed the money under Valerie’s pillow, the sooner she could get back to Chicago and into his arms to reassure herself of that fact.

The sun began to rise outside, lighting her way into Valerie’s bedroom. She hadn’t set foot in her mother’s room since childhood, afraid of what she would find. She felt little shock at seeing the syringe sitting on the nightstand or the blackened spoon lying next to it. Sighing, she took a step toward the bed.

A car screeched to a stop outside and two doors slammed, followed closely by a third. Two male voices called to each other, but she couldn’t make out what they said.

The next closest house was condemned and had been for quite some time, which meant whoever it was had come to see Valerie, or had her mother with them. Ginger’s heart accelerated as she ducked behind a chest of drawers. A moment later, the front door opened and crashed against the wall. She covered her mouth and nose with her hand to prevent herself from screaming.

“Where you want her, Haywood?”

A deeper voice spoke. “Anywhere’ll do.” A heavy object dropped onto the carpet, followed by a slapping noise. “Time to wake up, Valerie. We’ve got business, you and I.”

Ginger’s mind raced. Maybe Valerie had passed out somewhere drunk and these men were just bringing her home? Yes, that would be a definite possibility, and not the first or last time it happened. But something about the man’s tone sent a warning shivering up her spine.

Valerie groaned.

“That’s right. Come on, now. I don’t have all day.”

“Haywood?” She sounded alarmed. “What do you want?”

He laughed. “You know what I want. I gave you specific instructions: Drop off the package, and bring me back the envelope. Only half of the job got done, so I’m here to remedy that oversight.”

“I told you what happened. You should be looking for Ginger. She stole it right out of my goddamn hands while I was sleeping.”

“And why were you sleeping, Valerie?” Haywood’s voice grew stern. “Perhaps you dipped into the package and took a little product for yourself? You see, I knew you’d have trouble resisting, which is why I told you
no stops
were allowed between the pickup and drop-off.”

Without issuing a denial, Valerie started crying. “Well, what are you gonna do?”

“I suppose I’ll have to track down this industrious offspring of yours. But first, I’m afraid my associate here will be messing up that face of yours worse than the drugs already have.”

Heavy footsteps crossed the carpet, muffling Valerie’s sobbing.

Tears rolled down Ginger’s cheeks when the she heard the first blow. She’d caused this. Whatever Valerie’s shortcomings as a mother were, this situation was on Ginger’s head. She couldn’t stand there and let her mother take a beating for her actions. Furthermore, if this Haywood character succeeded in tracking her down in Chicago, she would lead him straight to Willa. And Derek.

Maybe she could walk out there and give Haywood the money, chalk it up to a big misunderstanding. They’d laugh and toss back a cold one. No harm done.

Unlikely.

Ginger took a deep breath. It was time to end this. She stood and marched into the living room, the bag of money clutched in her hand. “All right, I’ve got your money. You can stop hitting her now.”

Haywood immediately drew his gun, pointing it in her direction. Without flinching, Ginger put both hands in the air, bag and all. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her mother, nor could she take her eyes off the gun, but Haywood signaled for the other man to step away from Valerie. Her mother slumped to the floor, choking Ginger with guilt.

Haywood’s eyes tracked down her body and he raised an interested eyebrow. With black hair and a goatee, he appeared much younger than his cultured voice indicated. “Well, if I’d known
you
were the thief, I’d have looked for you sooner.”

“No need for that now.” Ginger tossed the bag onto the floor. “I didn’t know who it belonged to and I made a mistake. Take it and leave us be.”

His eyes never left hers. “Count it, Winston.”

Winston lumbered forward and Ginger shuddered seeing the blood on his knuckles. Her mother’s blood. He picked up the bag and dropped it on the couch.

“You think this makes us even? It don’t,” Valerie slurred. Swallowing, Ginger faced her mother. Face already swelling, her blood-matted hair hung in dull hanks over her eyes. Valerie looked far worse than the last time Ginger saw her, but she could still glimpse the beautiful woman buried beneath prematurely aged skin and sunken eyes, making it twice as tragic.

“I’d have to agree with you there. We’re the furthest thing from even.”

“I know sarcasm when I hear it.” Blood dribbled down her chin. “I know what you two girls think of me. Willa made it clear as crystal over the phone she don’t ever want to see me again.”

Ginger straightened. “Willa called you? When?”

“Shit, I can’t remember. Last month? Yesterday?”

She shook her head. Why hadn’t Willa said anything? She looked back at Valerie. Tears tracked down her bloody cheeks, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

“You know, it ain’t easy raising two little babies on your own.” She swiped a filthy hand across her cheek. “I was going to get myself together one day, and then twenty-some-odd years came and went before I could blink, you know? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Suppressing the need to reach out and place a hand on her beaten-down mother’s shoulder, Ginger swallowed her sympathy. “Well, it is. It damn well
is
like this, Valerie.”

Ginger took one last look at her mother before turning away. Haywood, however, was watching them closely.

“It’s short, boss,” Winston said from where he sat with the rolls of cash.

Haywood’s face pulled into a wide smile. “Short, you say?”

“By twenty-eight hundred.”

Ginger’s mind raced.
Oh God
, the security deposit on the apartment. She’d completely forgotten. “I can get it for you. Just take me to an ATM and I’ll withdraw what’s missing.” Her checking account could likely cover that amount. She’d barely spent a dime of the money she’d earned at Sensation.

“Sure, that won’t be a problem. I’m assuming you can cover the interest as well?”

Her heart sank. “Interest?”

Haywood sauntered toward her, one clammy hand reaching out to caress her cheek. Ginger steeled herself so she wouldn’t flinch. “You’ve put me in a bad position with quite a few people. I can’t let that slide.”

“How much?” Ginger asked through clenched teeth.

He looked up at the ceiling, as if doings sums in his head. “Oh, double should cover it. That includes the missing amount, plus an extra twenty-eight hundred for my trouble.”

Ginger somehow kept the dread from showing on her face. “Fine, drive me to the bank.” She didn’t have that much cash in her account, but she’d have a better chance of escaping in public.

Haywood laughed as if delighted with her. “I like you. But I also know you don’t have that kind of money. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed to steal mine. No, I think you’ll come with me. When your mother brings me the money, you’ll be free to go.”

She backed away as Winston started coming toward her. “No. I have the money. You know if you leave it up to her, you’ll never see it.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. I believe some time with you might prove interesting. And if your mother can’t come up with the money, you can always strip in one of my clubs to earn the money.”

Disgusted, she spat on his shiny black wing-tip shoe. “Never.”

All traces of humor vanished from his eyes. His right hand reared back and slapped Ginger across the face with such stunning force, she stumbled backward. She felt the sting of a cut on her cheek from where his ring had connected with her face.

He signaled his henchman. “Winston?”

Ginger turned and ran. She made it halfway out her bedroom window before Winston wrapped a beefy arm around her waist and dragged her back inside. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t break his hold as he dragged her back through the house and out the front door. On the porch, she managed to stomp on his foot with the heel of her boot, but he merely wrapped a hand in her hair, yanking her head back until tears formed in her eyes. He slammed her up against a black sedan, holding her there as he pulled a plastic tie out of his pocket and bound her wrists.

“What are you doing? Untie my wrists.
Please!
” She turned pleading eyes to Haywood, who stood on the porch, arms clasped behind his back. Valerie stood in the doorway behind him smoking a cigarette. “I can get you your money! This is kidnapping!”

A foul-smelling rag cut Ginger off. Winston stuffed it in her mouth and tied it tightly at the back of her head. Then he dragged her toward the trunk. When Ginger saw his intentions, she renewed her struggles, but she wasn’t a match for the man’s unnatural size. He tossed her into the gigantic trunk. Without her hands to break her fall, the air whooshed from her lungs. She sucked a breath in through her nose, trying to sit up, but he slammed the trunk shut, encapsulating her in darkness.

This can’t be happening.
No one knew she’d come to Nashville, so she could rule out the possibility of Willa or Derek coming to her aid. Furthermore, there would be a snowstorm in hell before Valerie lifted a finger to help her. It appeared she’d well and truly screwed herself. Ginger pulled her knees up to her chest, attempting to reevaluate. They had to let her out of this trunk at some point. There would be more chances for escape, or if she could just get to a phone—

Tires screeched outside. Several doors slammed. Then she heard the familiar deep pitch of Derek’s voice, reinforced by a collection of others. Ginger sprang up, slamming her head against the roof of the trunk. How did he find her? Who else was with him? Trying her best to scream a warning with the obstruction in her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.

Derek, no! They have guns! God, I’m so sorry…

As her voice faded into a dry screech, Ginger fell silent so she could hear what was being said.

“Drop your gun.
Now
. There’s ten of us and two of you. We’ll put a bullet in both of you before you get a shot off,” Derek said.

Ginger heard the faint sound of something heavy sliding through the dirt driveway away from the car. The gun, maybe?

“Well, I certainly recognize our local men in uniform,” Haywood said, sounding unhappy about the situation. “But who the hell are
you
?”

“Chicago PD. You don’t need to know my name.”

Haywood scoffed. “We’re a mighty long way from the Windy City. Gentlemen, I recognize quite a few of you as patrons of my various establishments. Why don’t we sit down and discuss this without the weapons?”

She heard the click of a gun being cocked. “No can do. I’m the one you’ll be dealing with today. They’re just here to arrest your sorry ass.”

“The woman must be pretty important for all this fanfare. Since when does the Nashville PD send out the cavalry for one white-trash princess?”

Derek’s voice turned to ice. “Does the name Thomas Faircourt ring a bell?” Silence from Haywood. “It should. He’s your ex-partner. Left Nashville five years ago. And do you know where he ended up?”

A long pause.