Mystery Man(146)

I snatched the picture from her and screamed, “I know!”

Then I closed my eyes tight and looked away.

Ginger was silent as I struggled with tears.

Then I heard her whisper, “Gwennie, call Tack.”

“No,” I whispered back.

Then she did something she hadn’t done in years. So long, I forgot she used to do it but she did it all the time when we were young. She just added a new, sweet, sister nuance.

I felt her hand curl around my neck and then I felt her forehead against the side of my hair as she sang a silly, nonsensical song she made up when she was three, “Gwennie, Gwennie, hennie, fennie, Gwennie, Gwennie, lennie, bennie, love my sissy… Gwennie.”

A sob tore up my throat.

I felt the Polaroid move gently in my hand before Ginger whispered, “You aren’t losin’ that because of me.”

My neck twisted and our eyes, an inch apart, locked.

“I love you, baby,” I whispered.

“I know you do,” she whispered back. “Call Tack.”

I sucked in breath. Then I asked, “You have to do this, don’t you?”

“I’m not supposed to look out the windows, Gwen, they’ve been watchin’ me like…” she closed her eyes then opened them but didn’t finish what she was going to say, “The shift was about to change, they got a guy, he gets sloppy around shift change so I looked. I been lookin’ awhile to find my shot and I couldn’t believe I saw you. So I took it. And I took it because they can’t…” she shook her head. “They’ll get me, Gwen. Eventually, they’ll get me. They can’t keep me safe because, obviously, they can’t keep you safe. I started this and it’s gotta be me who ends it.”

I stared at her. She was right.

Shit.

“I’ll call –” I started but both Ginger and my doors were yanked open.

We separated and my head shot around to see a very good-looking Native American man lean in front of me and nab the keys out of the ignition. He had long hair pulled back into a ponytail and I knew exactly who he was. Vance Crowe, one of Lee Nightingale’s men.

Shit!

He pulled back but his eyes came to me as I heard Ginger cry out and felt her presence leave the car.

“Lee wants a word,” Crowe stated. “You come or I drag you.”

“Okey dokey,” I whispered, slid the picture in my purse, grabbed the strap and when his body pulled out of the frame, I exited the car.

* * * * *

Ginger and I, escorted by Vance Crowe and Luke Stark, entered the Nightingale Investigations offices.

They were posh, all gleaming wood and bronze statues.

Nice.

“I can’t believe you ditched me!” Tracy screeched after I got two feet in the door. I turned to look at her and she was advancing on me then she skidded to a halt when she saw Ginger. “Holy crap! You busted her out!” she yelled.

“I didn’t bust her out. She escaped,” I replied.

“Shee-it,” an African American woman with a very large afro and stunning tawny brown eyes was sitting behind the reception desk and staring at Ginger. “Little thing like you caused all this ruckus? Feds, cops, badasses, commandos all in a tizzy. Denver’s underground and overground spinnin’ like tops.” She smiled huge and nodded once before she finished with, “you go, girl.”

Ginger grinned at her.

I looked toward an inside door that had opened and Lee Nightingale and Jorge were coming out of it.

“Smoke,” I whispered.

“Thinkin’ we should count ourselves lucky you don’t clue in that Hawk still watches your every move, babe,” Jorge said to me. “And that means your every move. He’s got a tracking device on your car.”

Shit.

“And in your phone,” Jorge went on.

Shit!

“And we monitor your calls and texts,” he finished.

Shit!

“Okay,” I replied. “So if you monitor my texts, does this mean you’ve been looking for him since this morning?”

“Lookin’ and findin’, Gwen,” Jorge returned. “Mighta went faster we didn’t have to keep your shit covered, you runnin’ around Denver, findin’ trouble.”

My relief was so extreme, I felt lightheaded.

“You found him?” I breathed.

“Rescue mission is imminent and would be under way, we didn’t have to lock you and your sister down in Lee’s safe room to keep your shit out of trouble.”

My relief fled as my eyes narrowed. “What did you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know, hit base and tell us Hawk was compromised?” Jorge shot back.

Sarcasm.

“I didn’t want you to go all commando and get him killed!” I yelled.