Protecting What's Theirs (Line of Duty, #1.5)(2)

She thought of herself nine months pregnant, wearing maternity clothes to accommodate her swollen belly. And allowed the tiny niggle of worry to creep in at the image. At age fourteen, she’d realized men liked the way she looked. Sure, she’d used it to her advantage. Even while luring Derek into what she’d thought would be a purely physical encounter. She didn’t waste a moment regretting it, either. Use what you’ve got had been the words she’d lived by for so long. But since breaking free of her past and taking control of her life, she’d stopped relying on them. Her body’s shape didn’t define her anymore. Her self-confidence had grown exponentially since moving to Chicago and meeting Derek.

She was now a businesswoman. An actual role model to the sister she loved. Yet…she always knew the looks were at her disposal if she needed them. And perhaps a small, leftover part of her past self was worried that Derek wouldn’t want her as much with cankles. She hated thinking that way. It was vain and silly. And yet.

“You understand, right, Dolly? You never leave the house without your sequined bustier and blond wig.” Okay, now that time the statue definitely shook its head disapprovingly. Pregnancy was apparently already taking its toll on her sanity. “Don’t look at me like that. Everyone knows about the wigs and no one here is judging you. Especially the pregnant lady talking to a damn statue.”

Raising a baby was simply not in her wheelhouse. While she may have grown emotionally and shed most of her hang-ups, it didn’t mean she was ready for another human being to be completely dependent on her. She’d managed to raise Willa, now majoring in photography in college, through trial and error. Lord knew she’d made plenty of mistakes along the way. There’d been no time to prepare for this.

She doubted it was on Derek’s radar, either. Not with his heavy workload, the way his peers relied on him. He’d been honored by the department earlier that year for his work in a sting operation involving two local gangs. She’d watched him accept his plaque from the Chicago police commissioner to thunderous applause from his colleagues, so choked with pride she could barely breathe. His career was on a major upswing. This would mean change. Sacrifices. Then, there was her own work. She’d opened Sneaky Peet’s in Wicker Park, creating and selling custom furniture. Her designs had become so popular, her hours were nearly as demanding as Derek’s. Throwing a baby into the equation at this stage, well, it was damned inconvenient.

Automatically, she felt an immense wave of guilt at her own thoughts. Slowly, very slowly, her hand crept to her still-flat belly and lay there. The world didn’t end.

“Hell, Dolly. I’m screwed. I already love the little booger.” She blew out a breath toward the ceiling. She would tell Derek. He would understand. He’d hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. She had to believe in that. Believe in him. “Looks like the three of us are having a baby.”





Chapter Two


Without looking up from his mountain of paperwork, Lieutenant Derek Tyler waved in the detective who’d just knocked tentatively on his glass office door.

“Do I not look busy enough to you, Alvarez?”

Most detectives knew when to back off around him. Not Alvarez, twenty-year veteran and all-around bullshit artist. He whistled softly through his teeth. “Someone’s even testier than usual. I know you haven’t been home to see your woman in two nights, but cut a dude some slack. Only doing my job.”

Stone-faced, Derek simply let Alvarez squirm under his stare. He didn’t like any of his men talking about Ginger. Not in any capacity. His woman. His business. Being that he’d spent the night away from their bed, instead of wrapped around her soft form where he belonged, he wasn’t in the mood to make an exception for the ball-breaking detective. Derek had thought when she moved in with him, he wouldn’t feel quite so anxious, unsettled, when he was forced to spend the night working. She’d be safe in his bed, behind a door he’d locked himself. Oddly, the desire to be home had grown exponentially. He should be home with her. Seeing to her needs. Demanding that she see to his. Spending every moment enjoying the fact that she’d taken that leap for him. With him.

His work-weary gaze strayed to the clock on his computer. Nine fifteen in the evening. She’d be spreading on lotion after a hot bath. Throwing on one of his department T-shirts. Nothing but tiny panties underneath. Sitting cross-legged on the floor cutting out pictures from magazines for her furniture designs, her brows drawn in concentration over her beautiful face. If he were to walk in the front door right now, she’d give him that hundred-watt smile and climb up his body for a long, wet, welcome-home kiss. God, as bad as he needed a fix of Ginger right now, he’d probably throw her down on the closest surface and f*ck her hard and thorough before they’d even exchanged hellos.

So, no. He wasn’t in the mood for this shit from Alvarez.

“The point. Get to it.”

He threw up his hands. “Fair enough. Although by the time I’m finished giving you this report, you’re going to wish you’d put it off a little longer.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Alvarez flipped open the manila folder in his lap. “Two words. Gino Lazio.”

Derek’s spine stiffened, his entire body immediately on high alert. The paperwork on his desk suddenly became meaningless. His exhaustion a minor detail. Gino Lazio. Notorious crime boss on Chicago’s South Side. Last year, a raid on the warehouse where Lazio’s crew was making a major narcotics deal had ended in the loss of one of Derek’s men. Lazio had been the one to pull the trigger. Then he’d disappeared without a trace. Derek’s team had prevented the drug deal, temporarily disabled Lazio’s crew, but there’d been no justice for the fallen officer—a fact that haunted him constantly. Relentlessly. He’d sat through the man’s funeral, shook the hand of his crying widow…and he’d been unable to offer closure. Lazio had immediately gone to ground. They’d even heard through one informant that he’d been lying low in Italy, waiting for his chance to slip back into Chicago unnoticed. Not likely. Derek hadn’t forgotten. Gino Lazio was his white whale.