Protecting What's Theirs (Line of Duty, #1.5)(8)

Might as well get her kicks before the baby started to kick.

Derek would normally hate the costume on sight, but she didn’t know what to expect when she saw him tonight. Perhaps he’d be back to his normal self, his odd behavior a mere blip on the radar caused by too many hours at work. God, she hoped it was the case.

Her cell phone buzzed on her desk, signaling an incoming text message. Before Ginger even glanced at the screen, she knew. Deep down, she knew what it would say.

Can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Be safe. Derek.

Slowly, she replaced the phone on the counter. Could she actually be losing him? Had she been so caught up in her newfound happiness that she’d missed some invisible warning sign? Was fate playing a cruel joke on her? Derek couldn’t be pulling away now. Not when she was carrying his child. For the first time in a long time, she felt…alone. So alone. Abandoned.

That old fear, the long-buried insecurity about becoming her mother, snuck up on her. It threatened to drag her down into its churning depths, but she determinedly scared it back into its cage. Nothing, not even the soul-shattering possibility of losing Derek, could turn her into that. Into a mother who left her children to fend for themselves for weeks on end while she played house with her latest boyfriend. Drinking, getting high. Until she’d fulfilled her worth and he kicked her out. No. Ginger had already accepted responsibility for the baby in her belly and she would be the best goddamn mother her limited knowledge allowed.

A group of laughing kids running past the shop brought her back to the present. Moving on shaky legs, she locked the store’s entrance and turned the sign to closed. She went to the back office, threw herself down into the leather swivel chair, and stared at the risqué gypsy costume hanging on the back door. Briefly, she wondered if she could return it and get her money back. Then she thought, what the hell for? So Derek had decided to skip the party. Didn’t mean she had to, right?

Ginger welcomed the blast of her familiar spirit, could practically feel her tough exterior moving into place over her skin, locking together. Armoring her against the ability to feel anything. She’d worked long and hard to drop that armor, but right now, it felt smooth as a second skin. So Derek had written her off? He’d rather work than spend time with her or listen to what she had to say? Fine with her. She wasn’t dead. She’d go to the party, drink nonalcoholic beverages, and have a grand time without his big, bossy ass.

She shot to her feet and snagged the costume off the door.

…

Derek sat across the street, parked in his black SUV, waiting for Ginger to walk out of Sneaky Peet’s. He’d taken a longer route than necessary on his drive back from a meeting with the commissioner, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. She usually left at six, but tonight she’d worked late. It was now well past eight. More often than not, he would be waiting for her at the curb to take her home. Not today. If he spent five minutes in her presence and saw a hint of uncertainty or doubt on her face, he’d spill everything. They’d received information that the raid would go down tonight. He’d anticipated the news, already having predicted the meeting would go down on Halloween, when the police department was distracted elsewhere. Just one more night and he could put the case behind him. Firmly in his past where it wouldn’t continue to haunt him. One more night and he could hold her again, knowing he was giving her, giving them, everything.

Damn, he missed her. It had been five miserable days, and he felt hollow without her. Such a short period of time, yet for them, five days felt like a lifetime. He missed the way she perched on the bathroom sink while he shaved and talked about her plans for the day. He missed the way she put her hands on her hips when she cooked, muttering under her breath that she had to be missing something. He missed waking up with her sweet-smelling hair in his face. Her feet tucked between his legs.

He’d forgone all those privileges by sleeping, showering, eating at the station. Practically working around the clock with hour-long naps when he could take them. He couldn’t go home and look her in the eye. See the confusion, the hurt on her face.

She hadn’t responded to his earlier text. While Derek honestly hadn’t expected one, he hadn’t seen her moving around in the store for long minutes. Had she already left and he’d missed her? Not a chance in hell. Maybe I’ll just go check. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until he saw her now. Derek placed his hand on the door handle, intending to exit the car, just as Ginger left the shop.

“Fucking Christ.”

Derek’s mouth went dry at the sight of her. The rest of his body reacted just as swiftly, every inch of him tensing. Preparing. His cock felt ready to burst from behind his fly, the swiftness of it causing his vision to blur. And that was before she even turned around.

Her purple velvet skirt flared out from her hips, over her pert little ass. Then it ended. No. It was too short. Her thighs were too exposed. If she bent over…f*ck. He couldn’t think about her bending over. He’d need immediate fulfillment and she was out of his reach right now. His growl of frustration echoed in the car’s interior.

Ginger finished locking the door of the shop and turned in his direction, seemingly unaware of the reaction she’d just caused. His attention became arrested on her face. Her full, red lips, darkly made-up eyes. She looked exotic. Ripe. Sensual. Even more gorgeous than usual. Hand gripping the steering wheel so hard the leather groaned under the pressure, Derek’s gaze dropped helplessly to her breasts. Pressing snugly against the white ruffle serving as a goddamn shirt, they looked f*cking delectable. He wanted her straddling him at that moment in the car so he could suck her nipples until she peaked. He wouldn’t allow her to remove the top either. He would suck her right through that sorry excuse for clothing.