Protecting What's His(61)

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.