Protecting What's His(16)
She pasted a bored expression on her face, strode to the door, and unhooked the chain, opening the door to reveal him fully. Once again, he looked good enough to eat in a long-sleeved, gray thermal shirt and dark jeans. A silver badge was clipped to his belt.
“Can we help you, Lieutenant?”
His green eyes flickered lazily over her body, then back up to meet her eyes. “I think we know each other well enough by now to be on a first-name basis.”
She ignored Willa’s confused expression and sent Derek a sharp look. “If you insist, Derek. We are neighbors after all.”
“I do insist.”
“Well, then.”
“Are you guys trying to eye fuck each other to death? If so, can I please be excused?”
“Willa!”
Derek let out a deep, booming laugh. Willa rolled her eyes at Ginger’s horrified expression.
She whipped her head back around to a still-laughing Derek. “Is there something you need? I’m just about to cook dinner and then I’m heading out to work.”
His laughter faded at the mention of her job, but instead of commenting he held up a plastic bag she hadn’t noticed. “Don’t bother cooking. I brought Chinese.” Then he breezed past them into the apartment, leaving them gaping at his broad back.
Willa recovered first with a very uncharacteristic squeal. “Chinese! Thank God.”
Ginger stared dumbfounded as Derek and Willa began unloading white and red cartons from the plastic bag and placing them on the dining table. “Wait a minute. I’d planned on cooking chicken potpies. You love my potpies. Don’t you?”
“Oh honey, you know I love everything you make.” The honey gave her sister away. She’d never been the endearment type. And when had she started liking Chinese food?
Ginger sniffed, then followed them into the kitchen. “You could have said something,” she muttered as she yanked plates out of the cabinet. “Here I am now looking like a big potpie-peddling jackass.”
As they spooned spicy honey shrimp and orange chicken onto their plates, Ginger watched Derek warily across the table. He caught her staring and raised a questioning eyebrow. The man was clearly up to something and as soon as she caught him alone for a minute, she’d make him spill it. Until then, if he wanted to pretend this heartwarming little scene passed as normal, she’d go right along with it. “So, Derek. Tell us more about being a police lieutenant. It sounds so dangerous!”
He narrowed his eyes at her caustic tone, but answered anyway. “I work in the homicide division. It can be dangerous, yes, but it’s mostly lots of dead bodies.”
Ginger choked on a bite of egg roll and took a long sip of water to recover. Fortunately, the mention of dead bodies appeared to pique Willa’s interest.
“Do any of them ever wake up and scare the shit out of you?”
“No.”
“Do you have a catch phrase?”
Derek snorted. “No.”
Willa looked disappointed, but seemed to console herself with a cream-cheese-filled wanton.
“Is there a particular case you’re working on right now?” Ginger asked.
“Yes, actually. Two rival gangs have been taking each other out one member at a time. I’m tempted to let it continue since that would eventually solve the problem, but that’s not my job.”
Ginger looked at Derek with fresh eyes. He was too young to sound so cold. Earlier at the door he’d laughed, genuine humor temporarily replacing his usual stoicism. For that brief moment, he’d seemed free of his harsh responsibilities, but now his serious mask lay firmly in place once more.
“I read this article once about gang initiations. Some pretty scary stuff,” Willa commented. “Usually it’s robbing a convenience store or something, but other times new members have to take out a rival. Could that be what’s going on?
“You seem awfully interested.” Derek leaned back in his chair, eyeing her sister’s hair and clothes. “You thinking of starting up a gang of aspiring morticians or something?”
“Derek!” Ginger admonished, ready to jump across the table and strangle him. No one, save herself, insulted her sister and lived to tell the tale.
Willa’s mouth dropped open at the insult, but instead of impaling the good lieutenant with her chopsticks, she threw back her head and laughed.
Ginger had finally seen it all. Her sister making normal conversation, then laughing uproariously with a stranger. Something was definitely in the Chicago tap water.
“Not bad, Lieutenant Lo Mein. Not bad at all.”
Derek went back to eating without commenting on his new nickname, but Willa had apparently only gotten started. Ginger popped a dumpling into her mouth and leaned back to watch the show.