4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Joker
Ginny is asleep on the couch. Exhaustion and the aftermath of the mother of all panic attacks will do that to a person. I’ve never seen her so upset, and she’s had a lot to be upset about since I’ve met her. She’s always been a rockstar in stressful situations, but this was different. I get it. The woman just ran out on her own wedding. We live in a small town and she’s a teacher at the high school. The reality is that people are going to talk. It doesn’t matter what side those people come down on, they are still going to talk. And if there’s one thing I know about Ginny, she hates the attention. Unless it’s her music. When she’s playing her cello, the world falls away, and she immerses herself in the chords and notes.
And as much as I’m trying not to think about her naked, my dick has imprinted the parts of her body I just saw and is playing it on a loop. Does that make me as asshole? Probably. It also makes me a lovesick fool who has had to hide his obsession with her for way too long. At some point, a person has to crack, right?
But her body. It’s perfection. Her neck begs for my kiss. Her breasts plead for my attention. Her hips hypnotize me with every sway when she moves. And even though I didn’t see it, her pussy is calling out to me to bury my face and make her scream my name.
“Get a grip,” I say to my cock, adjusting myself in the dress slacks I still have on.
The oven goes off, letting me know the pizzas are finished, when my phone rings. Davis.
“What’s up?” I ask. I put the phone on speaker so I can pull out the pizzas. Ginny’s not waking up.
“It was him.”
“Fuck. Not that I give a shit, but is he alright?”
“Couple of cuts and bruises, hit his head on the steering wheel, but he’s fine. They’re taking him to the hospital for observation, but he’ll be out by tomorrow.”
“Does he know?”
“That my sister finally got sick of his shit and left his sorry ass? Oh, yeah. He knows.”
“And his reaction?”
I swear, sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get Davis to just tell the fucking story.
“Well, which one would you like? The one he personally had with me and Ranger or the one he showed to the nurses?”
“What did he do?”
“Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing he was already laying in a hospital bed with all the insults and names he used to describe my sister. And that you weren’t there. You’d have killed the fucker.”
“I still might.”
“One could only hope, right? But as soon as a nurse was in earshot, he started wailing about how unfair his life is, that she was the love of his life and he didn’t know how he was ever going to move on.”
“Barf.”
“Yeah, the nurse was Rose. Soon as he figured out she was older than him, he shut up. What a fucking fool. But that means he’s going to make her the bad guy. And you know what happens when people start talking.”
“They never shut the fuck up?”
“They know how to make a person’s life miserable.”
“Surely everyone else knows this guy’s a fraud and an asshole.”
“That’s the thing, man. They don’t. They know him as the super nice vice principal who bends over backward for their kids. The one who takes over coaching responsibilities on top of his workload to make sure there’s a baseball season. He’s like a fucking saint to everyone else.”
“And Ginny just left the good-guy at the altar.”
“Bingo. And she’s not here to defend herself or tell her side of the story, so everyone is making up their own.”
“Fuck. We should spread one about him. That he was rushing to show up after spending the night with another woman, cheating on Ginny.”
I think about it for a minute, something scratching my brain, but not coming through.
“What’s the silence?”
“I think I need to call you back. Something’s off with the whole thing, but I need to do some digging. Ginny’s fine. We’re here at the cabin, and we’ll be here until you call that Trish is ready.”
“Have her call me later?”
“Will do, talk soon.”
I end the call and send a message to Nate. He’s technically my boss, but it’s convoluted. I have five of them, and depending on the day of the week or what I need depends on who I work for. But he works all hours of the day and night, so sending him a message to call is always safer than calling unless it’s an absolute emergency.
“This better be important. I’m doing stuff,” he says when he calls.
“So, you’re sitting at a coffee shop fantasizing over some chick that you’re too chickenshit to talk to and you don’t want anyone to know why you go there for your coffee?”
“Fuck off. What do you want?”
“I need to know who was on Subject Asshole’s tail yesterday and today, and where he was prior to three this afternoon.”
“You know, you’re obsessed with this guy. It’s unhealthy.”
“Just fucking tell me.”
“Geez. Hang on, asshole.”
I’m pacing in the small space, keeping an eye on Ginny, and stuffing my face with the pizza. I can’t fight this feeling that something isn’t right here.
“Jones was on him from Friday night, starting at midnight until noon. And it looks like Smith took over after that. He’s still on for a couple more hours.”
“Any notes on his whereabouts?”
“Friday night, he was in Rock Hill. Looks like he met up with some woman. They had dinner and separated. He then drove to Diamond Cove.”
“And did what?”
“Don’t know. There’s nothing reported after that.”
“We don’t know what time he departed Diamond Cove?”
“Nothing as of noon. He was still there. And we don’t have Smith’s records yet since he’s still on for another couple of hours.”
“And he didn’t think it was important enough to notify anyone that the subject was in a wreck?”
“Wait, what?”
I explain to Nate what happened today and what we saw. He lets me get the entire thing out before I hear him whistle.
“So you think he was also ditching and something happened at the last minute to make him come back? Could just have been a case of cold feet that he got over.”
“Don’t you think he would have called someone and let them know he was running late?”
“You know the guy more than I do, man. What’s your gut say?”
“My gut says there’s something more going on here, just like it always has. Why’s he spending so much time with a woman we can’t find anything on? Who is she, and where did she come from?”
“Can’t answer that for you. Why did you think it was odd? I mean, wasn’t he back in Boulder Canyon?”
“The position of his car. It wasn’t right. Almost like he was turning around to go away from the church.”
“How do you figure?” I can hear the curiosity in Nate’s voice. He’s getting invested.
“I didn’t think much of it when we drove past. The car was in the median, and it was facing the church. But the damage was on the front passenger side, and that much damage would have caused the car to spin the opposite direction without anything stopping it. And it was right past a turnaround on the highway. You know the spot cops usually sit in to catch speeders?”
“So you think he was headed back but changed his mind and took the turnaround—”
“Going too fast and hit the other driver, pushing them both into the grassy median—”
“Facing Boulder Canyon instead of away.” He finishes our thought. “We need to get with Smith and find out what he knows about it.”
“I’ll talk to him and see what he’s got. How’s your girl?”
“She’s not—”
“Don’t even fucking try it,” he interrupts me again.
I smile because it would have been a weak denial at best. “Well, she had an epic panic attack when we got here, but she’s safe and sleeping right now.”
“Take care of her. You know Daniel will shit if something happens to Davis’s sister.”
“Nothing is going to happen to her. I won’t let it.”
“I know you won’t. Take care, and I’ll let you know when I have some news.”
I plate up the cooling pizza and make Ginny an ice water. She needs to rehydrate and get something on her stomach so she isn’t sick later. I carry everything into the living area and set it on the end table next to the couch. Kneeling in front of her, I brush a lock of hair off her face, but don’t allow myself more than that touch.
“Ginny,” I gently say her name, not wanting to scare her. “Beautiful, there’s pizza.”
“Not beautiful,” she mumbles in her mostly asleep state.
“You are. I’ll get you to believe it one day. But you need to wake up and eat something, okay? Then you can go to bed if you want.”
“Hmm, okay.” She nods her head, her eyes never opening.
I can’t resist and reach out to cup her cheek, her skin soft under my palm. Her eyes fly open and wildly look around the room.
“Hey, just me,” I assure her. “You’re safe.”
“Safe,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “Will I ever really be safe again?”
“You’ll always be safe with me, Beautiful.”
She opens her eyes again and I can see the non-belief there. Why does this woman not understand how drawn to her people are? Not just other men who swarm around her, but are afraid to approach her. Afraid because the sting of rejection is a real hit to the old pride, not because they don’t want her. Women, kids, old people at the home she visits to play music at sometimes. They all love her.
I guess that’s my new goal in life. To make sure she knows every day how wonderful she is. How big her heart is and how desirable every other part of her is. It might be a tough job, but if there’s anyone who is up to the challenge, it’s me.