Page 72 of Ruthless

Chapter 27

Ginger

"That was Rebel," I explained to Stevie with a small smile, slipping my phone back into my purse. I was sitting in the chair next to the bed, and she was on the small, box-like sofa that sat against the window. "He just wanted to check in."

Her smiled told me that she’d seen more than I’d wanted her to. "I figured as much. I don't know him as well as Vinny does, but from what he's told me, I know he's a good man." She laughed softly. "You know Vinny, he says it how it is."

I nodded in agreement, wondering if Rebel had told Vinny about our history together, and if Vinny had then told Stevie. I really hoped that he hadn’t. It was a time in my life that I would have rather forgotten. Rebel didn't strike me as the kind of man who would share something so horrid and personal with someone else. What had happened between us was the kind of thing that you might share with a special friend, like I had done with Della, but not an acquaintance. Talking to her about what happened to me with the Red Devils had been necessary and cathartic.

"I'm seeing a whole new side of Vinny lately," I joked. If anyone could, Stevie would understand what I meant. I had only worked for him a little over a year, whereas she'd been with him for eight years. "He's a good man, too."

"Not going to argue with you there," she agreed. "I just wish he'd stop letting his past get in the way and put a ring on it."

That was an interesting remark. "What sort of things from his past are getting in the way?" I'd heard that he had an unsavory past before he’d bought the bar. I knew that he'd been in prison for almost killing the man who'd raped Stevie. In my book, that had been justified, though. The man who'd raped Stevie had turned out to be a serial rapist, his youngest victim had only been ten. Vinny was a hero in my eyes.

Stevie shrugged, still smiling. "He thinks he's not good enough."

I rolled my eyes. "But he’s good enough for you to sleep with, right? What is it with these men who think like that? We've all done things that we're not proud of, we all have pasts, but we also deserve to be happy and to have a good life. Even if it does mean that we love an asshole."

She burst into laughter, and soon I joined in. Rebel could be an asshole when he wanted to be, and he felt the same way about himself as Vinny did. He wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen, and he was bossy and rough around the edges, but I wanted him anyway. I wanted to move in with him. I wanted his baby.

I wanted his baby?

Suddenly, the image of a little dark-haired boy with blue eyes entered my thoughts, a mini Rebel running through the house at a hundred miles an hour, leaving behind an echo of giggles and a big mess. Wow. That was the first time that I'd ever allowed myself the thought of actually having a family. I wanted that with Rebel. I wanted it all. And why couldn't we have it?

A small sound coming from Della quickly sobered us, and we glanced at her to see that she was grimacing, obviously in the throes of a bad dream. I suddenly felt guilty for laughing and thinking about my future while she was lying in a hospital bed, beat to hell. I reached for her hand and took it in mine, hoping the small, comforting touch would calm her. I squeezed her hand gently, and after a minute she stopped fidgeting.

I relaxed back in my chair, keeping hold of her hand. "Rebel said he had a lead on Daryl," I spoke softly, glancing to where Stevie was sitting. "I think he's on his way there now."

Understanding shone in her green, thickly lashed eyes. Before she could say anything there was a light tap on the partially closed door.

"Yes?"

The door opened and a man walked in. There was a welcoming smile on his clean-shaven face, but it didn't quite meet the brown of his eyes. He was dressed in a neat suit, his brown hair slicked back with product. Seeing Skipper behind him and the wink that he gave me helped alleviate the sudden nervousness I felt at their unexpected arrival. He was hovering protectively, and I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to us.

"Hi." The stranger held his hand out toward me. "Detective Benson, I'm investigating Miss Murray's attack." His gaze shifted to Della briefly before returning to me.

"Ginger Pruitt," I smiled back, shaking his hand.

He glanced expectantly at Stevie.

"Stevie Nicks," she said. "Not the singer, obviously." They shared a laugh.

He glanced again at Della. "How is she doing?"

I heard the sincerity in his tone, understanding that at the same time it was a formality. He could hardly jump right in with his questions without at least inquiring about the victim first. It would have made him seem like an insensitive bastard. "She's still in a lot of pain, they're keeping her sedated."

He nodded, turning to me. "And what is everyone’s relationship to Miss Murray?" He included Stevie and Skipper with a look.

"Della works at Pirate's Cove with me," Stevie was quick to reply. "We're just work friends, we don't associate much outside of work." I almost smirked at how quickly she had replied, leaving little reason for the detective to question her further.

The detective rested his gaze on Skipper. It was obvious from the way that he dressed that he was a biker, and his cut revealed that he was in the Sentinels. Skipper finally shrugged and said, "I'm Ginger's friend, just here to offer support." His lips quirked as if he found this funny.

It was obvious from the detective's expression that he didn't believe Skipper, but he didn't press him. He turned to me expectantly.

"Della and I are best friends. We work together and live right across the hall from each other."

He raised a brow and took out a pen and small pad. "The officers who brought Miss Murray in weren't able to get anything out of her, other than that she didn't know her attacker. She was too out of it, and then they had to rush her into surgery. Has she said anything to you that might help us?"

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