Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(44)

Stall. Put it off. “How…how did you get this number?”

“We exchanged numbers, don’t you remember?”

She couldn’t think past anything over the pounding in her head. “Oh. Okay.”

“Listen dear, I don’t know if this call is appropriate or not, but you and Derek seemed so close the other night. I thought you would want to know. There was a massive raid this evening at a meeting between two major gangs that resulted in some serious gunfire, and Derek has been taken to Saint Anthony’s medical center. I just thought you’d want to know.”

Ginger’s body felt numb. “He’s been shot?”

“Saint Anthony’s. Fourteenth floor, ICU. I would get there as soon as possible.”

The line went dead. Ginger couldn’t make her body move for a full minute. Everything around her felt too clear. Every sound, even the feel of the carpet under her legs, felt abrasive, like a scrape along her nerve endings. She pushed herself up on shaking legs, stumbled into the bathroom, and stared at her reflection in mirror under the harsh fluorescent light.

She’d barely finished brushing her teeth before her knees buckled and she landed on the tile floor. Pain came screaming through the numbness so swiftly, she doubled over with a cry. Eventually she found the strength to struggle to her feet. She stumbled back through the bedroom and out the apartment door, shoving her feet into her cowboy boots as she went.

Ginger got in her truck and drove aimlessly in one direction before realizing she didn’t know Saint Anthony’s location. At a stoplight, she begged for directions from an off-duty taxi driver, made a U-turn and finally headed the right way. Her drive to the hospital blurred together in a series of stoplights and street signs. Nothing felt real. Maybe she still lay passed out on her bedroom floor and this was one big, wine-induced nightmare. She squeezed the steering wheel, felt the solidity of it beneath her hands, rolled down the window, and breathed in the damp air. No way was she dreaming. That meant Derek could at that very moment be dying. Dead, even.

She’d just seen him hours earlier, solid and reassuring in the hallway of the building. They were supposed to talk tomorrow. He hadn’t even given Ginger the courtesy of letting her know he was on his way to risk his stupid neck, dammit. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so stubborn if she’d known.

Give me a chance, beautiful girl.

Hot, salty tears dripped from her eyes as she turned down the street leading to Saint Anthony’s. Ginger could barely read the sign through her blurry vision, but somehow mustered the capability to park the truck and run inside. Bypassing the front desk, she headed straight for the elevators and punched the button for the fourteenth floor.

Ignoring the flower-toting family staring at her dishevelment with open curiosity, Ginger blinked through her tears at the numbers above the doors as they ticked away, moving so slowly she wanted to scream in frustration. When the doors finally parted, she took off like a shot, her eyes scanning the floor frantically. They finally landed on a desk with an official-looking woman sitting behind it, typing away on a computer.

She didn’t bother wiping her eyes or trying to fix her appearance. None of it mattered.

“Excuse me. I’m here to see Derek Tyler. Lieutenant Derek Tyler. He’s been shot. Please, I need to see him right away.”

The redhead dressed in scrubs looked bored by Ginger’s plea, taking her time looking up from the screen. “Spell the name.”

Ginger bit back an exasperated groan. She needed to see Derek and this woman clearly didn’t get the urgency. How many lieutenants had come in shot that night that she couldn’t remember him? Jesus, had she even made it in time? How much time had passed since the phone call? It could have been minutes or hours for all she knew. “T-Y-L-E-R. As in, Tyler. Please, I need to see him.”

Long fingernails punched the keyboard slowly. The woman shook her head. “No one has been admitted with that name, miss.”

Ginger finally lost her patience along with any composure she’d managed to keep since entering the hospital. She got angry. And when she got angry, she cried. Hiccupping once, twice, sloppy tears began rolling down her face once more. She leaned over the desk until her face was inches from the redhead.

“Check again. Now. Or I’ll throw this goddamn machine out the window.”

“Ginger?”





Chapter Nineteen


Her heart stopped. Sagging back from the counter, away from the woman’s stunned expression, Ginger turned to see Derek standing at the end of the corridor, underneath a sign that read Waiting Room.

With his ever-present badge clipped to his waist, Derek looked bone-weary, his white shirt wrinkled and speckled with blood. Stubble covered his wide jaw. He looked at her in shock as if he couldn’t believe she stood there, just a short distance away. Her eyes ran over him, taking in every detail, never wanting to forget a single thing about him.

She sobbed. “Oh God. Oh, Derek.”

Ginger’s body shook so severely, she couldn’t run to Derek as fast as she wanted to, but somehow made it to the end of the corridor. She leaped into his open arms, wrapped her body around him, and held on tight. His steady heartbeat drummed against her chest, reassuring her. With her face pressed into his strong shoulder, she wept harder than she could remember.

“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay. God, you’re frozen.”