by Aleah Barley
“Of course.”
Finn had just detonated a bomb on the bridge they’d built in the quiet of the restroom, and he didn’t freaking care. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get fired…again. And after he’d left Chicago, he’d made a promise to himself that he would never be in that position again.
Gina probably didn’t understand that with her soft smiles, silky skin, and shades of gray attitude, she’d made him break his promise. Forget about not getting involved. He was already emotionally invested in the situation. He cared about what happened to her.
And for that she was going to pay.
“It started in the diner…” She chose each word carefully, telling him about the missing wallet and the search she’d conducted in the wreckage of the dressing room. Her pace slowed as she told him about the voices in the darkness. Her description of the shooter was concise—lean, dark hair, fancy suit, gun—and her summary of Taub’s behavior meshed with that Finn knew about the other cop.
“And then I heard the shot…I ran…I wanted to make it out alive. I thought the cop could handle himself, but—damn—the bag was just lying on the ground.” There was a hitch in her voice. “Do you know what I could do with fifty thousand dollars?”
“Donate it to charity.”
“Damn straight, the National Federation for the Advancement of Starving Showgirls.”
“You’re not starving.”
“True.” She shimmied in her seat. Was that jiggle on purpose? Finn swallowed hard as he watched things move underneath her tight T-shirt. “But my car’s dead and my mortgage is underwater.”
“I’m sure things will work out—”
“Sure they will. I don’t know what kind of happy, shiny world you’re used to living in, but out in the real world, things only go from bad to worse. No one pulls swords out of stones and inherits a kingdom. If you wait around for things to work out, you’re just going to end up screwed. It’s better to grab life by the balls and squeeze out every drop of opportunity.”
“Ball squeezing has never been my area of expertise.”
“I’m an expert,” Gina said. “You might have had life handed to you on a platter, but I worked for everything I’ve got…and that’s not much. That’s why I grabbed the bag.”
“And you never looked inside.” Finn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and called the captain.
“Finn,” the captain answered after one ring. “Where the hell are you?”
“Colorado.”
“You find our Queen of Hearts?”
“I found Ms. Malloy, two thugs, and a sack full of LVMPD evidence.”
There was a long pause. “Fuck.”
The captain always did have a way with words. Finn snorted. “This is going to get real ugly before it’s over. I need to know I’ll still have my job when it’s done.”
“You going to come back?”
“One of the men knew my name.”
“Hell,” the captain rasped. “Guess that means there’s a leak in the department.”
“No way to know for sure, but I’m going to do my best to keep the girl safe and figure out what’s going on.”
“Then you’ll have your job back. Hell, Wild Card, you’re the best man in my deck. A truly good man.”
“Things could get messy—”
“I know what happened in Chicago,” the older man interrupted.
Warning bells started ringing in Finn’s ears. He wanted to say something—to defend himself—but he couldn’t find the words. Maybe it was just a weird joke. Maybe they were talking about two different events. “You must be mistaken.”
“You think I don’t check my guys out? That was a bad situation—the guy never should have been on the street in the first place—but I can’t say I’d have done things any different. You show the same kind of judgment in this situation and you’ll keep your job. I’ll make sure of it.”
The line went dead.
Apparently there was nothing else to say.
Finn’s entire body felt empty and light—like he was floating—but he was still sitting in the truck with his hands on the wheel. He shifted position, and the cell phone tumbled down onto the seat beside him.
“What happened in Chicago?” Gina asked, not even pretending that she hadn’t been listening in on his conversation.
“You burned your bridges when you left California?” Finn shrugged. “I beat a man into the ground. Last I heard he was still in the hospital, in a persistent vegetative state. So whatever you did—however dark and twisty your secrets are—I’ve done worse. Any other questions?”
Chapter Six
Finding out that Finn had once beaten a man half to death probably shouldn’t have been a relief, but that didn’t stop Gina from relaxing slightly in her seat.
He wasn’t some white knight after all, with a soul as shiny as a freshly minted penny. Instead, he was a dark character, one with murky secrets and hidden angst.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked, repeating his words from earlier in the afternoon.
Finn chuckled. “I think we’ve already had this conversation.”
“Of course.” Now they had two off-limit topics: her family and his time in Chicago. Gina frowned. Energy skittered across her body. She needed to do something, damn it.
They’d shared a moment together in the bathroom, but somehow, it had all been lost in the gravel parking lot. She wanted it back. Now. “You told your boss you were going to figure out what’s going on. Were you serious?”
“Like the plague.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“No.”
His muscles were taut. His jaw was clenched. She reached out to lay a hand on his arm. He felt like belted steel under her fingers.
“You said you didn’t look in the bag. Were you telling the truth?” he asked.
“I didn’t have time.”
“Good.” There was a sharp edge to his voice, as if he wasn’t sure he believed her. “I’ll have to look at the files when we stop—see what case they’re from—but I don’t want you touching anything unless you have to. Everything’s going to be fingerprinted when it gets back to Las Vegas, and we wouldn’t want to risk any further contamination.”
Okay. She’d been put in her place. She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t find the words. Her hand pulled back, leaving his arm.
“I’m not lying. Not about this. I touched the outside of the bag when I grabbed it, but I didn’t look at the contents. If I had, I’d have thrown the damn thing over the wall at the nearest police station. It’s trouble I don’t need.”
“I believe you,” Finn said.
“I’ve made some decisions I’m not proud of, but I’m not a criminal—”
“I never said you were,” he growled. “You said you didn’t look inside the bag, and I believe you.”
Gina blinked in surprise. “You really don’t think I’m a criminal.”
“Never even crossed my mind.”
“Sorry.” She tried to rein in her anger and failed. “You’re still an asshole.”
“Probably.” He shifted in his seat and pulled two wallets out of his back pockets. It took a moment for her to recognize the billfolds he’d taken from the shooter and his buddy back at the diner. He passed the wallets over. “These you can touch. See if they’ve got any ID.”
Gina flipped through the leather billfolds, doing as she was told. “The big one’s got a library card. It says his name is Skippy Perez.”
“Skippy.” Finn laughed darkly. “Like the peanut butter. And the other guy?”
“No ID. Just a bunch of receipts from a taco place in downtown Las Vegas.”
“See if they’ve got any cash.” He sighed. “We might as well use it.”
She did as she was told, checking each wallet twice, collecting three five-dollar bills, seven singles, and a scratch ticket. The small stack of cash went on the dashboard, and the walle
ts dropped to the ground.
“How much is that?”
“Twenty-two dollars.” Gina used her thumbnail to scratch off the gray film on the scratch ticket. It wasn’t a winner. “Total.”
“That’s not enough.”
She frowned. “Enough for what?”
“For us to make it out of this hellhole and back to civilization.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “One of those guys knew my name. He called me Detective Finn.”
“Maybe you’ve arrested him before.”
“I’d remember,” Finn said. “He knew I was out here looking for you. He was expecting me. That means he has a contact in the department. If he gets in touch with his police buddies and tells them we’re together, they can put a trace on our credit cards.” His ran his hand through his hair as he took the time to consider all of their options.
It took him a few minutes to come to a decision, but when he finally did, the effect was obvious. Tension leached out of his shoulders, and his expression became slightly less grim.
“They already know where we are right now,” Finn said. “That means we can stop at the next town on the highway, fill up on gas, hit a supermarket, and charge everything we’re going to need for the next couple of days. Then we stop using our cards.”
Unfortunately, the only places open in the next town were a gas station, a bookstore, and an ice cream parlor. “We could go farther?” Gina suggested.
“Not if we want to stop them from figuring out what direction we’re going.” Finn filled up the truck’s gas tank before leading Gina into the station. He filled her arms with chocolates and jerky and stacked four cases of bottled water next to the door.
“You give cash back?” Finn asked the old man behind the counter.
Narrow shoulders shrugged. “Ten dollars.”
“Hell,” Finn swore as he opened up his wallet. “What if we ring everything up separately?”
Brittle fingers reached out to take Finn’s credit card. “System won’t allow it. You put through more than two transactions on the same card in the same day and it kicks it back. I told the boss it was going to be a problem—back when it was installed—but he wouldn’t fucking listen.” The credit card drummed against the counter. “You really need the money?”
“Yeah,” Finn said. “We really do.”
“Running from the law or just running?” Before Finn could say anything, the old man waved off any attempt to answer. “Don’t matter to me, long as you’re not bringing trouble my way.”
“Can you help us?” Gina shifted forward on her tiptoes, flashing a bright smile in his direction.
“Those are some pearly whites, but your man’s more my type.” The old fellow grinned. He turned and grabbed two long cases of Marlboro Reds off the shelf behind him. “I usually buy my smokes this time of the week anyway. Won’t hurt me any to give the cash to you instead of the boss.” His eyes twinkled as he rang up the transaction and put through Finn’s credit card. He handed Finn ten dollars from the till and fifty from his wallet. “Reminds me of the good old days.”
“Is that a fact?” Finn asked.
“Hell yeah, back when outlaws still roamed the west.”
“You ever meet a real outlaw?”
“Can’t say I have.” He thought about it for a moment before bagging up their purchases. “Met a few boys running hooch down off the mountain, and I know a man who grows weed on the slopes, but I never met a real outlaw. What about you?”
“I’ve met a few.”
“Exciting?”
“For them? Probably a little too exciting.” Finn collected their purchases and led Gina back over to where they’d parked. The flats of water went in the truck bed and the snacks went up front.
“Don’t eat too much,” he warned. “We probably won’t be able to buy food again before we get where we’re going.”
“I was headed to New York City,” Gina said. “There’s always work for dancers in New York City.”
“That’s nice. It’s not where we’re going, but it’s a nice place.”
“Where are we going?”
There was a long pause. “I could tell you…”
“But then you’d have to kill me?”
“Nope.” He opened the passenger side door, helping her inside. “But I might change my mind. I’d hate for you to think I was wishy-washy.”
God save her from enigmatic heroes with sapphire eyes. Gina bit her lip to keep from socking him in the arm. She waited until he’d climbed into the truck beside her before nodding toward the brightly colored building across the street. “Fine, be all mysterious. But you’re buying me a milkshake before we leave town.”
“Might even spring for some hot dogs if they’ve got them.”
“Throw in a hand job behind the movie parlor, and it’ll be just like my first date.”
Finn’s laughter was loud and immediate. It brought back the rush of arousal she’d felt in the diner bathroom and calmed the pounding in her head.
“Sounds like your boyfriend was a real gentleman,” he offered.
“He wasn’t a boyfriend. He was just a guy I knew. We were in high school.”
Freshman year. She’d been fourteen years old—the daughter of the town drunk—and Timothy Williams had asked her out every day for two weeks solid. The entire night, Gina had felt like she was flying, but in the morning, it had all been gone. Tim had moved on to girls he wasn’t afraid to introduce to his mother, and Gina moved on to seniors who weren’t afraid to steal their parents’ booze.
She frowned at the memory. “What was your first date like?”
“My first date?” Finn thought as the truck eased across the road. He pulled up to the drive-through monitor and placed their order—two milkshakes, two hot dogs, and an extra-large soda—before finally letting out a short laugh.
“Cheryl McClintock,” he finally said. “Eighth grade. We went out for hamburgers before the end-of-year dance. The theme was Endless Love.”
“Did she put her hand down your pants?”
“She kissed me on the cheek when I pinned on her corsage.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “Such a romantic. You go out with her for long?”
He shrugged. “Almost a month before she left me for a younger man.”
“Vixen.” Gina couldn’t suppress her laughter. “She go for an elementary schooler?”
“Not quite.” They pulled up to the window and Finn paid for their food. He leaned back comfortably in his seat. “Colin was in seventh grade. She told me he was the love of her life. Some day they were going to get married and have babies. Four boys and two girls.”
Gina had never been that young. “He eventually leave her for a sixth grader?”
“Nope.” Finn’s full lips twitched. “But you should have heard him holler when I told that story at their wedding. It was hilarious.”
Gina shook her head in disbelief. “Do they have any kids now?”
“Two girls and two boys.” Finn took the food from the attendant and handed Gina the soda and hot dogs. The milkshakes went in the center console between them. “Last I heard, she was pregnant.”
“You dodged a bullet that way.”
“You don’t want kids?”
Gina snorted. “Do I look like mother of the year material to you? I had a cat once, but she left me for a neighbor with better kibble.”
“Seriously?”
Kids. Gina took a long drag on the soda, trying to picture any child unfortunate enough to have her for a mother. A red-haired girl with curls spilling down her back and freckles on her nose. A dark-haired boy with blue eyes like his father… Liquid went the wrong way, making her sputter and choke.
She wasn’t dating Finn. There would be no happily ever after. He didn’t even like her. If it wasn’t for the bag full of evidence at her feet, they’d be halfway back to Las Vegas already.
Still, a treacherous voice murmured in the back of her mind, Finn would make cute kids.
“Gues
s that answers my question.” He pressed a napkin into her hand.
“Someday. Maybe. If I met the right guy, someone I could depend on. What about you? Do you want kids?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “Babies like me.”
“Babies?” Gina blinked in surprise. Well, why would they be any different? It would be a strange person who didn’t respond to the detective’s good looks and powerful voice. Of course, his personality could use some work. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he’d go from being a hard-nosed cop to something softer, someone she could see herself with. And then—like a firefly in the distance—that brief glimpse of humanity would disappear.
Finn’s expression was bright and honest. His curved, kissable lips were pulled back in a broad smile that sent sparks of electricity sizzling down Gina’s spine. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
Gina took a deep breath, trying to force away the image forming in her mind. Finn’s broad back and bulging muscles curled carefully, delicately, around a beaming baby boy with bright blue eyes, one of his mammoth fingers clutched in a tiny fist.
It was a nice fantasy. Too bad she could never hope to be a part of it.
Chapter Seven
Finn drove until his hands were shaking and his eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head. They’d gone most of the time in silence, only bothering to talk when he asked Gina to pass him some food or find a new radio station. It should have been uncomfortable, but instead it was…nice.
There was something about Gina that spoke to him—the way her head bobbed in time to the singer on the radio and the gentle scent of lilacs that still clung to her skin after so many hours on the road. Underneath her brash exterior and rough-and-tumble attitude, she was nice.
Hell’s bells. He’d obviously been awake too long. He needed six solid hours of sleep before he tried to figure out his next move. When they’d left the diner, he’d been too concerned about heading east to think of anything else. Now, it was after midnight and they hadn’t made it far enough.
