Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(58)

“Which one of them did this?”

Ginger gulped. He sounded so cold. His touch felt completely devoid of affection. “H-Haywood.”

Derek flipped the gun in his hand and strode toward the cruiser, barking at the officers to wait. Before she could scream for him to stop, he brought the butt of the weapon down on Haywood’s skull. The man crumpled to the ground, still handcuffed.

“Now, I hardly see how that was necessary, Lieutenant,” an older officer drawled, but his smirk suggested he wasn’t overly upset over Haywood’s injury.

Ignoring the reprimand, Derek returned to the trunk and slid both arms under Ginger to lift her from the interior. She curled into his hard chest with a sob.

His face devoid of emotion, he placed her in the passenger seat of his SUV, then produced a pocket knife and cut her bonds.

Ginger tried to meet his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Derek—”

“Not a f*cking word.”

She flinched, sinking back into the seat. It was going to be a long ride back to Chicago.





Chapter Twenty-Five


They rode in silence for an hour, Ginger alternating between contrite and indignant. She wanted to explain her actions to Derek but he stared straight ahead, a muscle ticking ominously in his jaw, effectively preventing conversation. With a sigh, she dug her phone out of her pocket, which Derek had graciously allowed her to retrieve from the truck, and began listening to the numerous voice mails left since yesterday evening.

After Derek’s terse initial messages, there were two from Willa begging her to come home. A knot formed in her throat at hearing the fear in her sister’s voice. Ginger pressed the speed dial for Willa’s cell phone. She answered on the first ring.

“I’m going to kick your ass, Ginger.”

“Hey, Wip.”

“Not an appropriate time for nicknames.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A shuddering sigh. “Are you all right? Is Derek with you?”

“Yeah, he’s here. I’m fine.”

“Thank f*ck. Don’t you ever do anything stupid like that again.”

She glanced at Derek. “Willa, why didn’t you tell me you knew? About the money.”

A long sigh. “You know how we operate, Ginger. We don’t talk until we’re ready. If ever.”

“That ends now, okay? No more secrets. We can do better than that.”

“Okay.” Willa sniffed. “Okay.”

Ginger blinked back tears. “I’ll be home soon. I want to hear all about the dance.”

“Deal.”

She hung up and risked another look at Derek. His expression hadn’t changed a bit. Punching the button to play her remaining voice mails, Ginger listened to Derek’s deep voice in her ear. The first couple messages were filled with palpable anger, but around the tenth voice mail, he turned coaxing and finally resigned. She knew Derek could hear every word from the driver’s seat, his body tensing or relaxing at certain points.

“Ginger…I wish you would answer the phone. I really need to hear your voice.” A deep, steadying breath. “You know when I fell in love with you?” Ginger’s hand tightened on the phone, her pulse hammering. “That night in my bathroom after your apartment flooded. You’d been crying, but you looked so goddamn fearless. Maybe I should have told you how I feel before now. Maybe it would have prevented this fool’s mission.” He cleared his throat with difficulty. “Probably not. You’re too damn stubborn. But then, I love you for that, too, don’t I? Call me, sweetheart. I’ll come get you and take you home. Bye, baby.”

Ginger hung up the phone and stared blindly out the window, cars and buildings whizzing past in a blur. Derek’s words repeated themselves over and over in her head. He loved her. But could he forgive her? He couldn’t even look her in the eye. Ginger thought of the hard expression on his face when he’d opened the trunk. The way he’d tossed her in his car like a rag doll. Once again, she’d needed his comfort and he didn’t provide it. He couldn’t just decide to love her then disregard her so quickly, damn him. If he could change his mind about loving her so easily, she could surely reverse it back in her favor, right?

Derek veered off the highway onto an exit ramp, turned at the first light, and pulled into a motel parking lot.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Because I haven’t showered or slept in three days and I need to do both before driving any farther.”

Ginger’s eyes traced over his heavily stubbled jaw and dark-circled eyes. Her heart tripped over itself at the fatigue she saw there. Before she could offer to take the wheel, he climbed out of the vehicle, strode into the motel office, and returned a few minutes later with a room key.

He jerked open her passenger side door and waited for Ginger to slide out, then grabbed a leather gym bag from the backseat.

Once they reached their room, Derek locked the door behind them and removed his shirt. In the dim light filtering through the window, shadows played against his muscular chest and back. Black dress pants hung low on his hips, but soon he removed those, too.

Ginger sank onto the bed and tried to sift through the conflicting emotions roiling inside of her. Anger warred with pain. Guilt simmered beneath the ever-present desire she felt around Derek. He was treating her like one of his subordinates and she hated him for it. Why couldn’t he just talk to her, order her around—something?