Mystery Man (Dream Man #1)(113)

“Stop talkin’,” Elvira whispered. “Where’s the martini shaker? I need a reload.”

Cam got up and sauntered to the counter.

Then it hit me. “My God, if he doesn’t forgive me, I’m ruined for all other men.”

“Gwennie, honey, really, don’t stress. It hasn’t even been a day,” Tracy soothed.

Cam started pouring vodka into the shaker and decreed, “All right, this is serious for you and obviously he had reasons to be a motherf*cking ass**le meaning he actually never was one. So, you called, left a voicemail, said you were sorry. You wait. He doesn’t call you back by one-thirty tomorrow, you call again. Voicemails can get missed. He’s there, you explain and apologize again. He’s not there, you leave another voicemail. He doesn’t call back, say, for two days, you know where he’s at, you make a batch of cookie dough, you call us and we’ll all come over and eat it.”

Thank God. A plan.

That was all I needed.

I took in a breath, checked Elvira to make sure she was steady, let her go and looked at Cam.

“Thanks, babe.”

Camille nodded her head and poured in cranberry juice.

“He’ll call,” Tracy whispered and my eyes moved to her. She smiled her hopeful smile.

I smiled back but mine felt shaky.

Chapter Thirty-One

She’s My Sister

I lay on my side, my knees curled up to my chest in Cam and Leo’s guest bedroom and I flipped opened the phone, went to contacts, scrolled down and hit go.

I immediately got Hawk’s, “Talk.”

“Hi,” I whispered. “I don’t know if you got my other voicemail but I wanted you to know, I drove over to Cam and Leo’s tonight and had enough to drink, it wasn’t safe to drive home so I’m spending the night.” I paused. “I just… wanted you to know where I am.” I paused again then kept whispering. “I hope, even after what happened this morning, that you managed to have a good day, baby.”

Then I flipped the phone shut and stared at it.

God, I was such an idiot.

I tapped the phone on my forehead and then put it on the nightstand.

It was nearly midnight. Over ten hours since I called.

Shit.

I tucked my hands under my cheek and closed my eyes tight thinking maybe I should have texted.

Then I heard a scratching at the window.

My eyes flew open and I shot up to an elbow in the bed. I stared out the opened curtains and my heart squeezed.

Ginger was standing there, partially illuminated by streetlights and the entire left side of her face was swollen, bruised, bleeding and mangled.

“Gwennie,” I heard her pained whisper.

I didn’t think. I threw the bedclothes back and raced from the room, the panels of Cam’s long, sexy, satin nightgown that would make Meredith’s mouth water and had slits up each side practically to my h*ps tangling with my legs. I went straight to the front door, unlocked it, threw it open and dashed out, running and frantic. I made it to the edge of the house, turned and collided headlong with something big, hard and solid.

I looked up into Hawk’s face.

“Gwen,” he said, “get back in the house.”

“Ginger,” I whispered worriedly, rounded him, started to fly and stopped dead.

Ginger was down on her ass, back to the house under the guest bedroom window. Her knees up, her head bowed.

I ran to her, yanked up the panel to my nightgown and dropped to my knees beside her.

“Honey, look at me,” I whispered but she didn’t raise her head and she was breathing funny. “Ginger, honey, please,” I begged, reaching out to take her chin gently and lift her face to me.

I saw it and sucked in breath. It was worse close up. A lot worse.

Hawk crouched low at her other side, took her chin from my hand into his own and carefully pulled her head his way. He had his phone at his other ear and he spoke as he scanned my sister’s face.

“I need a pick up at Freeman’s for Gwen and guards to stay with her at the warehouse until I get there. We were right, Ginger was going to her and she’s here. Call Doc, he needs to head out, she’s a f**kin’ mess. Safe house. Then call Lawson, he’s up.” He stopped talking a moment then said, “Out.”

He flipped his phone shut and shoved it into his cargoes.

“You havin’ trouble breathin’?” he asked Ginger.

“Ribs,” Ginger replied.

“Fuck,” Hawk muttered. “Can you handle me carrying you into the house?”

Ginger ignored him. “No cops.”

“Your plays aren’t workin’, Ginger, you’re gonna try mine.”

“No cops,” she repeated and I reached out and grabbed her hand, holding on tight.

“You love your sister?” Hawk asked suddenly and Ginger pulled her chin away from his hand, then she whimpered. “I asked you a question,” he pushed.

“She’s my sister,” Ginger answered and the tears hit my eyes, no warning this time, they just hit them and spilled over.

And they did this because this meant yes.

I moved closer and held her hand harder.

“Then trust me to do right by you,” Hawk replied, knowing what she meant.

“You can’t fix this,” Ginger told him.