Chapter Seven
Derek stared at the files on his laptop screen, unease settling over him. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling there was more to Ginger leaving Nashville than a neglectful mother, and now that he’d done a little more digging, it appeared his intuition might be right. According to Valerie’s most recent possession charge, she’d been bailed out of jail by an H. Devon. He’d quickly searched the name in the Nashville area.
In addition to a hefty rap sheet of his own, Haywood Devon owned several strip clubs in the Nashville area. Suspicion of drug trafficking and prostitution inside his clubs looked like it kept the Nashville police department on Devon’s doorstep every few weeks.
If Haywood Devon was the type of character Ginger’s mother associated with on a regular basis, he didn’t doubt she’d been afraid of more than a missed meal. Men like Devon didn’t bail anyone out of jail without expecting a favor in return. When those favors didn’t come through, the families of his debtors paid the price.
Two familiar voices drifted up to him from outside the window. Derek closed his laptop and watched Ginger and her sister hop out of their beaten-up, rusted orange pickup truck, and collect the paper grocery bags from its flatbed. Willa yelled something—obscene, no doubt—to Ginger over the back of the truck, and Ginger threw her head back in unrestrained laughter.
Derek’s stomach muscles went rigid at the sight of her. Walking through the doors of that ridiculous meat market last night, he’d sat down at the bar with every intention of engaging her in a normal conversation for once. One that didn’t end with both of them pissed off. Then he’d been forced to watch for over an hour as she fluttered her eyelashes and flaunted her body, giving every man within a hundred yards, including him, a hard-on that could cut through steel.
Possessiveness, insistent and primitive, had flowed through him like lava. Once they got back to their building, his plan had been to drive Ginger to the brink of orgasm and back off, leaving her as frustrated as he’d been watching her seduce the crowd at Sensation. Instead, he’d lost control, had come too close to f*cking things up, and the knowledge sat like a weight in his stomach. He never lost control. Deciding to indulge himself had always been a conscious decision on his part, never an undeniable need, demanding to be met.
Then again, Ginger was the first woman he’d come across who bred such strong feelings in him. Derek couldn’t even guarantee the next time they found themselves alone would be any different. His reaction to her didn’t appear to be something he could control.
But the more he thought about it, the more he suspected restraint wasn’t the way to go with Ginger. She’d liked the way he spoke to her—goddamn that excited him—and she’d responded to his loss of control with an equally potent explosion of passion and need of her own. Recalling the way she’d wrapped her agile body around his like ivy, digging those sexy cowboy boots into his ass, made Derek groan aloud in his silent apartment.
She’d tasted like melted caramel, as if she’d been sucking on hard candy. And damn if those hot little whimpering noises she’d made against his ear hadn’t kept him awake all night.
As the object of his frustration and her little sister passed his door on their way to their apartment, Derek sighed. You’re going to have to work for it a little, she’d said last night. So he would try, with her definition in mind. But he’d make her work for it as well. Giving away the upper hand was not something Derek did under any circumstance.
He grabbed his keys and left his apartment.
…
Willa shoved a plastic sack of carrots into the refrigerator’s vegetable drawer, kicking it shut with her heavy boot.
Ginger visibly cringed. “Did you misplace your opposable thumbs, Willa? Jeez.”
Her sister looked thoughtful. “I may have left them in the produce aisle. Can I borrow the car to go get them?”
Ginger snorted a laugh. “As long as you have your middle fingers, you’ll survive. And I don’t think you can refer to the contraption we’re driving as a car. Steel death trap, yes. Truck, maybe. Car, no.”
“The General has never failed us. He’s a classic.”
“A classic piece of shit,” Ginger quipped, sticking a box of frozen lasagna in the freezer. “So,” she began casually, “three days of school so far. How’s it going?”
“Fine. I, uh, have to go to this stupid basketball game on Friday night for a photography class project.”
Willa was opening up to her? Ginger strove for nonchalance. “You’re attending an actual sporting event? Careful you don’t burst into flames at the entrance.”
As usual, they both laughed on cue, but Ginger saw the shadow that clouded Willa’s expression. “I didn’t mean anything by that,” she said quickly. “It’s just, you know…you’re pretty outspoken about your hatred of organized rituals.”
“No, you’re right.” Her sister smiled. “I better call ahead to make sure they have a fire extinguisher handy.”
Something about her tone was still off. “Willa—”
A knock sounded at the door.
They both frowned. Willa made it to the door before Ginger could stop her, opening it a mere crack with the chain lock still in place. “State your business.”
A beat of silence. “Is there an adult at home?”
Ginger’s heart sped up at the sound of Derek’s deep timbre. What on earth could he be doing at their door? They may have practically had sex in the hallway last night, but that didn’t mean they had a cordial, “howdy neighbor” relationship.
She pasted a bored expression on her face, strode to the door, and unhooked the chain, opening the door to reveal him fully. Once again, he looked good enough to eat in a long-sleeved, gray thermal shirt and dark jeans. A silver badge was clipped to his belt.
“Can we help you, Lieutenant?”
His green eyes flickered lazily over her body, then back up to meet her eyes. “I think we know each other well enough by now to be on a first-name basis.”
She ignored Willa’s confused expression and sent Derek a sharp look. “If you insist, Derek. We are neighbors after all.”
“I do insist.”
“Well, then.”
“Are you guys trying to eye f*ck each other to death? If so, can I please be excused?”
“Willa!”
Derek let out a deep, booming laugh. Willa rolled her eyes at Ginger’s horrified expression.
She whipped her head back around to a still-laughing Derek. “Is there something you need? I’m just about to cook dinner and then I’m heading out to work.”
His laughter faded at the mention of her job, but instead of commenting he held up a plastic bag she hadn’t noticed. “Don’t bother cooking. I brought Chinese.” Then he breezed past them into the apartment, leaving them gaping at his broad back.
Willa recovered first with a very uncharacteristic squeal. “Chinese! Thank God.”
Ginger stared dumbfounded as Derek and Willa began unloading white and red cartons from the plastic bag and placing them on the dining table. “Wait a minute. I’d planned on cooking chicken potpies. You love my potpies. Don’t you?”
“Oh honey, you know I love everything you make.” The honey gave her sister away. She’d never been the endearment type. And when had she started liking Chinese food?
Ginger sniffed, then followed them into the kitchen. “You could have said something,” she muttered as she yanked plates out of the cabinet. “Here I am now looking like a big potpie-peddling jackass.”
As they spooned spicy honey shrimp and orange chicken onto their plates, Ginger watched Derek warily across the table. He caught her staring and raised a questioning eyebrow. The man was clearly up to something and as soon as she caught him alone for a minute, she’d make him spill it. Until then, if he wanted to pretend this heartwarming little scene passed as normal, she’d go right along with it. “So, Derek. Tell us more about being a police lieutenant. It sounds so dangerous!”
He narrowed his eyes at her caustic tone, but answered anyway. “I work in the homicide division. It can be dangerous, yes, but it’s mostly lots of dead bodies.”
Ginger choked on a bite of egg roll and took a long sip of water to recover. Fortunately, the mention of dead bodies appeared to pique Willa’s interest.
“Do any of them ever wake up and scare the shit out of you?”
“No.”
“Do you have a catch phrase?”
Derek snorted. “No.”
Willa looked disappointed, but seemed to console herself with a cream-cheese-filled wanton.
“Is there a particular case you’re working on right now?” Ginger asked.
“Yes, actually. Two rival gangs have been taking each other out one member at a time. I’m tempted to let it continue since that would eventually solve the problem, but that’s not my job.”
Ginger looked at Derek with fresh eyes. He was too young to sound so cold. Earlier at the door he’d laughed, genuine humor temporarily replacing his usual stoicism. For that brief moment, he’d seemed free of his harsh responsibilities, but now his serious mask lay firmly in place once more.
“I read this article once about gang initiations. Some pretty scary stuff,” Willa commented. “Usually it’s robbing a convenience store or something, but other times new members have to take out a rival. Could that be what’s going on?
“You seem awfully interested.” Derek leaned back in his chair, eyeing her sister’s hair and clothes. “You thinking of starting up a gang of aspiring morticians or something?”
“Derek!” Ginger admonished, ready to jump across the table and strangle him. No one, save herself, insulted her sister and lived to tell the tale.
Willa’s mouth dropped open at the insult, but instead of impaling the good lieutenant with her chopsticks, she threw back her head and laughed.
Ginger had finally seen it all. Her sister making normal conversation, then laughing uproariously with a stranger. Something was definitely in the Chicago tap water.
“Not bad, Lieutenant Lo Mein. Not bad at all.”
Derek went back to eating without commenting on his new nickname, but Willa had apparently only gotten started. Ginger popped a dumpling into her mouth and leaned back to watch the show.
“Since you’ve earned my grudging respect and put a hilarious vision in my head of pasty, leather-clad gang members in dog collars roaming the streets, I feel you’ve earned the right to some helpful knowledge. And since you’ve come here on a Chinese food pilgrimage with the intention of getting laid—”
Ginger shot forward in her chair. “Willa!”
“—I’m going to take pity on you. My sister doesn’t date. You’re wasting your time.”
Derek raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between her and Ginger. “Oh? And why is that?”
Alarm bells went off in Ginger’s head. “Willa, don’t you dare.”
Her sister ignored her plea as if she’d never spoken. In fact, Ginger was starting to feel like a spectator at a cage match. “That would be because of a series of incidents we refer to as the ‘Holy Trinity.’”
“Actually, it’s a really boring story and I don’t think Derek wants to hear it.”
He smiled at her. “Wrong.”
Willa speared a wonton with her chopstick. “Around the time of Ginger’s twenty-first birthday, she made the fateful decision to try her hand at dating. What would transpire in just three short days has been widely referred to as the three worst dates in human history. My sister has never once made it past the appetizer.” Holding up one skull-ring-adorned hand, she began ticking off Ginger’s humiliations. Ginger could only press her hands over her face and hang her head in defeat.
“The first man’s name was Huey Lewis. No joke and no relation. He casually dropped the fact that he operated a gerbil farm in his basement during predinner drinks. When Ginger laughed since he was so obviously pulling her leg, Huey Lewis proved his claim by pulling his pet gerbil, Cooter, out of his coat pocket and depositing him on the table.”
Willa ticked off a second finger. “Then there was Bill. Ginger’s coworker set them up on a blind date and when Willa showed up at the address he’d given over the phone, she found a church. It turned out to be Ginger’s very own ambush baptism. Something new the congregation, all of whom were present, were trying out in an attempt to reach out to the community.”
Ginger groaned loudly, then stood up and began shoveling empty food containers into a garbage bag. Anything to avoid the amusement on Derek’s face.
“Willa, I really think that’s enough. I mean it.” She even stamped her booted heel for emphasis.
“Sis, you can’t really expect me to leave out Walter the eunuch.”
Derek had just taken a sip of water when Willa dropped that bombshell. Her sister had to stand up to pound him on the back until he could breathe normally again. Served him right. If his intentions were to get laid, laughing at tales of her humiliating foray into the dating world was not the way to go about it.
“All right, if everyone is finished amusing themselves at my expense, I have to get ready for work. Surely you have some dead folks to get to, Lieutenant?”
He didn’t take the hint. As Willa flopped onto the couch to fiddle with her camera, Derek circled the apartment, inspecting everything from the locks on the windows to her current decoupage project. She’d picked up the oversize wooden treasure chest at a yard sale down the street yesterday and began work immediately, giving it a childhood theme. Upon seeing it, she’d envisioned a child storing his toys inside and it inspired her. Using parenting magazines and children’s activity books as her guide, she’d cut out everything from teddy bears to cartoon characters to accomplish the theme.
“What’s this?” he asked, nodding toward the chest.
“Decoupage.”
Derek raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain. For some reason, it felt too intimate sharing her hobby with him. If he mocked her for it like he did everything else, she wouldn’t know how to react. Her buyers were like-minded people with an appreciation for the creative. Derek probably wouldn’t know creative if it bit him on the ass.
She sighed. “I buy used furniture and personalize the pieces with magazine and newspaper cutouts. Like that one over there.” Ginger pointed toward the Parisian-themed coffee table she’d completed last week and decided to keep since it suited the apartment.
He walked over to inspect it and Ginger turned to wash a glass in the sink, afraid of seeing judgment on his face.
“It’s good. Do you sell them?”
Ginger jumped at his deep voice right behind her in the kitchen. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Willa get up and enter her bedroom, closing the door with a click behind her. To give them privacy, no doubt.
Willa seemed full of surprises today.
Ginger turned to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “No. I mean, every so often someone back in Nashville would buy one, but it’s really more of a hobby.” With an inward wince, Ginger realized she’d just revealed where they’d lived prior to Chicago. Volunteering information didn’t seem wise considering what had prompted their departure.
“Maybe you should make it more than a hobby.”
She felt herself flush a little under his compliment, not used to men commenting on anything beyond her looks. He could have been patronizing her, but it didn’t feel like it.
Derek circled the kitchen, eyes lighting on everything in their path, weighing and measuring. She supposed he couldn’t simply turn off his ability to observe and analyze after hours, but having him in her house felt strange. Honestly, it would feel strange having any man in her house, but Derek in particular kept her off-balance, never knowing what to expect. They’d established a physical attraction and she’d been interested in possibly pursuing it, but Chinese food and bantering with Willa, that felt like something more.
Ginger pushed down the rising panic at that thought and decided it was high time she reestablished some boundaries. This relationship would be strictly physical. She didn’t need or want some messy emotional entanglement with anyone.
“Are you looking for something illegal so you’ll have an excuse to handcuff me, Derek?”
Derek’s eyes darkened as he approached, and a shiver ran down her spine. Oh boy, did her lieutenant ever love dirty talk. She delighted in knowing his weakness. He likely spent all day at work maintaining that resolute control, but around her, the sexually charged bad boy took over.
“Baby, I don’t need an excuse to cuff you. I just need the opportunity.”
Lordy. He’d managed to get her hot and bothered in two sentences. Maybe her weakness was talking dirty, same as him. Ginger’s head tipped back as Derek moved closer, bringing her up against the sink.
“Oh, and just how do you plan on creating such an opportunity?”
Derek brought his hand up to rub a thumb across her bottom lip. “I’ve got an hour before I need to be back at the station. I’ll have f*cked you three different ways by then.”
Ginger’s breath caught on a gasp. “You certainly don’t mince words, Lieutenant.”
“I think you love it.”
Did she love the indecent way he spoke to her? Yes. Should she be offended? Probably. But it felt honest, and she couldn’t deny the overwhelming effect it had on her body.
“Maybe.” Her tongue licked out at the pad of his tracing thumb and Derek groaned. “But I still can’t be seduced with a bag of Chinese food. Try harder, Derek.”
“Point taken. But one more thing.” Derek leaned forward, resting his hands on either side of her on the counter, then dipped his head lower. Ginger’s mind reeled as he ran his tongue upward in one long lick of her neck. “The longer it takes me to get between your thighs, the rougher I’m going to be when I finally get there. Understand?”
Her chest rose and fell quickly with stuttered breaths. Trembling with the effort to resist begging him to take her to his apartment and make good on his threat, Ginger nodded.
Just like that, she’d surrendered to him. And it felt fantastic.
One hand slid down her back and palmed her ass, kneading the flesh in a gesture of blatant ownership.
“Be good tonight, Ginger. I’ll know if you’re not.” Then he turned and left the apartment, leaving her staring after him.
It was beginning to become a habit.