Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(17)

So why then, when Ginger pictured stomping down the hall to Derek’s apartment to give him a piece of her mind, did the scene end with him lifting the hem of her nightshirt and boosting her onto the kitchen counter?

She would be damned lucky if the manager at Sensation hadn’t noticed something odd about their new clientele and attributed it to Ginger. They wouldn’t appreciate their regular customers being intimidated by Derek’s trained dogs. Finding another equally lucrative job would be difficult for her, and a gap in employment would make it necessary to dip in to the stolen cash.

As usual, the reminder of the money made Ginger uneasy. Most of the time, she could pretend it didn’t exist. That they’d moved to Chicago without having to steal in order to make it happen. Funny how a group of cops and one seriously overbearing lieutenant could make you a little nervous about some harmless larceny.

She worried that someone willing to go to such extremes to keep an eye on her would have no qualms about delving into her past. Possibly had already done so. Though she was convinced Valerie had come by that money illegally and wouldn’t be stupid enough to report it stolen, there were no guarantees in this life. If that information was out there, Derek could find it easily enough.

Ginger flopped over onto her stomach, cramming the pillow underneath her head, and did her best to block the image of Derek’s face after learning her dirty little secret. Besides, there were more important things to worry about at present.

Like how to keep her head on straight when Derek seemed determined to knock her off-balance, right into his bed.

And how maybe she wanted him to.

Something wet dripped from the ceiling and landed with a splat on Ginger’s cheek. Two more fat drops of water plopped on her face, then immediately turned into a steady stream of water, soaking her hair and face.

“What the hell?”

She threw her comforter off the bed and climbed out. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Ginger saw the growing outline of wetness on the ceiling above her bed. Water fell from several different locations around the room. Her bedclothes, which had been dry only seconds ago, were now sopping wet.

She grabbed her new cell phone off the dresser and pulled up the super’s number. Obviously a pipe or something had burst, and he needed to turn off the water to the building before her entire bedroom ended up soaked. She would already have one hell of a time cleaning up the current mess.

She rounded the bed, but just before she reached the door, the entire ceiling collapsed, showering her with even more water and pasty plaster particles.

Ginger stumbled backward and fell to the floor. Scrambling, she reached for the knob to the bedroom door and pulled herself up. She threw one last bewildered look at her room and the veritable waterfall now cascading into it, then ran to Willa’s room. “Wip! Wake up!”

Her sister shot straight up and screamed. “Ginger? What the f*ck?”

“My ceiling just caved in and there’s water everywhere. I want to get you out of here in case it’s not just contained to the one room.”

Willa gave a doubtful head tilt. “Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

“Look at me. I’m soaked!”

“All right. I’m up.”

Cautiously, they entered the living room and flipped on the light to find the ceiling darkening with the spreading water above.

“Oh, God,” Willa whispered. “Ginger, your furniture.”

She’d been avoiding that side of the room with her eyes, but looked over now to find the child’s hope chest she hadn’t yet lacquered sat directly under a stream of water, along with two unfinished decorative chairs and several hatboxes.

She blinked back tears. “It’s not important.”

Willa searched her face for a moment before her eyes shot wide.

“Dolly,” they breathed at the same time.

Ginger barely had time to register the perfect synchronicity of their leaps over the waterlogged couch and coffee table. They each grabbed an end of the five-foot-tall Dolly statue and lifted, groaning under its weight. Ginger took the lead, wobbling backward through the wreckage, showing Willa where to step safely. They needed to move quickly. Judging by the rapidly growing stain on the ceiling, standing underneath the wet plaster didn’t seem wise.

“Ginger, lift! You’re going to knock off one of her boobs if it hits the table!”

Grunting over the strain in her muscles, she lifted Dolly up and over the dining table. “For once I wish Dolly had smaller tits,” she panted.

Thankfully, they made it outside without mishap and Ginger managed to get the sleeping super, Lenny, on the phone and up to their apartment in less than two minutes. By that time, their living room ceiling had partially caved in, the room filling rapidly with water. Ginger and Willa were waiting with their Dolly statue in the hallway when he ran up the stairs, still buttoning his jeans.

Lenny took one look in their apartment before sprinting up the stairs to Ginger’s upstairs neighbor’s apartment. A minute later he sprinted past them again, presumably down to the basement so he could turn off the water. The steady stream flowing into their apartment finally subsided, but Ginger didn’t dare go back inside. Instead, she stared through the doorway in silence at the new home they’d barely had time to get used to.

Lenny, looking incredibly stressed and apologetic, explained to them that their upstairs neighbor, a middle-aged woman living alone, had been suffering from the flu and thanks to her cold medicine, had passed out waiting for her bathtub to fill some three hours earlier. The older building’s flooring had been no match for the weight of the water, sending it downstairs to Ginger and Willa.