Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(57)

Haywood laughed as if delighted with her. “I like you. But I also know you don’t have that kind of money. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed to steal mine. No, I think you’ll come with me. When your mother brings me the money, you’ll be free to go.”

She backed away as Winston started coming toward her. “No. I have the money. You know if you leave it up to her, you’ll never see it.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. I believe some time with you might prove interesting. And if your mother can’t come up with the money, you can always strip in one of my clubs to earn the money.”

Disgusted, she spat on his shiny black wing-tip shoe. “Never.”

All traces of humor vanished from his eyes. His right hand reared back and slapped Ginger across the face with such stunning force, she stumbled backward. She felt the sting of a cut on her cheek from where his ring had connected with her face.

He signaled his henchman. “Winston?”

Ginger turned and ran. She made it halfway out her bedroom window before Winston wrapped a beefy arm around her waist and dragged her back inside. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t break his hold as he dragged her back through the house and out the front door. On the porch, she managed to stomp on his foot with the heel of her boot, but he merely wrapped a hand in her hair, yanking her head back until tears formed in her eyes. He slammed her up against a black sedan, holding her there as he pulled a plastic tie out of his pocket and bound her wrists.

“What are you doing? Untie my wrists. Please!” She turned pleading eyes to Haywood, who stood on the porch, arms clasped behind his back. Valerie stood in the doorway behind him smoking a cigarette. “I can get you your money! This is kidnapping!”

A foul-smelling rag cut Ginger off. Winston stuffed it in her mouth and tied it tightly at the back of her head. Then he dragged her toward the trunk. When Ginger saw his intentions, she renewed her struggles, but she wasn’t a match for the man’s unnatural size. He tossed her into the gigantic trunk. Without her hands to break her fall, the air whooshed from her lungs. She sucked a breath in through her nose, trying to sit up, but he slammed the trunk shut, encapsulating her in darkness.

This can’t be happening. No one knew she’d come to Nashville, so she could rule out the possibility of Willa or Derek coming to her aid. Furthermore, there would be a snowstorm in hell before Valerie lifted a finger to help her. It appeared she’d well and truly screwed herself. Ginger pulled her knees up to her chest, attempting to reevaluate. They had to let her out of this trunk at some point. There would be more chances for escape, or if she could just get to a phone—

Tires screeched outside. Several doors slammed. Then she heard the familiar deep pitch of Derek’s voice, reinforced by a collection of others. Ginger sprang up, slamming her head against the roof of the trunk. How did he find her? Who else was with him? Trying her best to scream a warning with the obstruction in her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.

Derek, no! They have guns! God, I’m so sorry…

As her voice faded into a dry screech, Ginger fell silent so she could hear what was being said.

“Drop your gun. Now. There’s ten of us and two of you. We’ll put a bullet in both of you before you get a shot off,” Derek said.

Ginger heard the faint sound of something heavy sliding through the dirt driveway away from the car. The gun, maybe?

“Well, I certainly recognize our local men in uniform,” Haywood said, sounding unhappy about the situation. “But who the hell are you?”

“Chicago PD. You don’t need to know my name.”

Haywood scoffed. “We’re a mighty long way from the Windy City. Gentlemen, I recognize quite a few of you as patrons of my various establishments. Why don’t we sit down and discuss this without the weapons?”

She heard the click of a gun being cocked. “No can do. I’m the one you’ll be dealing with today. They’re just here to arrest your sorry ass.”

“The woman must be pretty important for all this fanfare. Since when does the Nashville PD send out the cavalry for one white-trash princess?”

Derek’s voice turned to ice. “Does the name Thomas Faircourt ring a bell?” Silence from Haywood. “It should. He’s your ex-partner. Left Nashville five years ago. And do you know where he ended up?”

A long pause.

“Presently, I have Mr. Faircourt locked up on racketeering charges in Chicago,” Derek said. “He was more than happy to cut a deal for less prison time in exchange for information about that little warehouse fire in Nashville about eight years back. The one for which you received the huge insurance settlement. Opened your first strip club with that money, didn’t you, Mr. Devon?”

“You’re lying. He wouldn’t talk.”

“I can be very persuasive. Nashville PD was more than happy to assist me today in exchange for the information, seeing as how you’ve been a thorn in their side for years. Boys?”

Ginger heard the shuffling of feet, some muffled curses, and a struggle, followed by the metallic sound of handcuffs sliding and locking.

A minute later, the trunk popped opened. She stared up into Derek’s hard expression and burst into tears. Behind him, several officers marched Haywood and Winston toward a police cruiser. Derek yanked the gag out of her mouth and helped her sit up, turning her face to survey the cut on her cheek.