Line of Duty 2 His Risk to Take

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way up to his ruthlessly shorn, dark brown hair, something told her tying one on wasn t something he
did on a regular basis. No, despite his overtly masculine appearance, his reserve suggested he would
be the type to order a glass of milk at the bar.
That offended her as a bartender and as a recreational drinker.
She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. This morning, she d woken up happy and
optimistic. Ginger couldn t remember the last time that was the case. She d outrun the storm cloud
darkening the sky above her head in Nashville and had come to Chicago for a new start. For her. For
Willa. Adios leaky roof and questionable future.
After spending a week in a cheap, dingy motel, Ginger finally found an affordable neighborhood
with a good high school nearby, close enough to downtown Chicago and potential work for herself.
Then she d sweet-talked the landlord into a double security deposit in lieu of the mandatory credit
check. And bam! They now had themselves a sweet two-bedroom with new appliances andhardwood
floors. Amenities that up until yesterday sounded like a foreign language. She and Willa had picked
out furniture at thrift stores and yard sales throughout the week, pretending to be college students
living off-campus. They d had fun, dammit. Without a time limit.
And this son of a bitch was raining on their parade.
What exactly is your problem, Lieutenant?
He took a step forward, bringing them toe-to-toe, forcing her to look up if she wanted to meet his
eyes. Damn, this guy kept surprising her. Men liked Ginger. That wasn t arrogance talking. Okay,
maybe a little, but it was mainly an observation. This man, however, seemed determined to piss her
off good.
She couldn t help the smile that spread across her face.
You can stop calling me Lieutenant now. It s getting on my nerves.
I believe that was the point.
A muscle in his jaw flexed. It s Derek from now on.
Oh, he had balls making demands. She d give him that. I don t believe I ll have cause to call you
anything at all. What do you think of that?
He didn t answer her question. I assume there s some sort of parental supervision moving in
with you?
Her smile disappeared right quick. Beg pardon?
Derek gestured with the patented cop-head-nod to the open door Willa had recently disappeared
through. She s barely old enough to operate a vehicle and surely you re not much older.
Ginger s left eye twitched. This little t�te-�-t�te had just gone from interesting to insufferable.
Judging from his stoic expression, he had no idea what kind of land mine he d just stepped on. Well,
he was about to find the hell out. I m twenty-three years old,actually. And last time I checked, that s
old enough to vote, drink, gamble, rent an apartment, own a firearm, and explain to a grown man,
police lieutenant or not, when he s being a gigantic dickhead. And Derek, if it wasn t clear enough
already, you are the dickhead in this little scenario. She paused for a breath. And don t call me
surely.
His eyes narrowed even further, completely obscuring the green of his irises. Did you just quote
Airplane! to me?
Ginger swore she could feel steam coming out of her ears. That s really all you picked up on?
Glossed right over the dickhead part?
What s your name?
She gritted her teeth. Hardly matters at this point, wouldn t you agree? I don t think there are too
many neighborly chats in our future.
Willa picked that moment to holler from inside the apartment. Ginger! I m fucking starving and
all we have is Triscuit crackers and strawberry frosting!
Ah, impeccable timing as usual, sis.
Not quite suppressing his triumphant smile, Derek answered her rhetorical question. I d have to
agree with you, Ginger. I m not feeling the least bit neighborly toward you.
Well then, sugar, I d say our association ends here.
I doubt that.
You can doubt anything if you think about it long enough. And I am done thinking about this.
Good-bye, Derek. Can t say it was a pleasure, but it was definitely an experience.
Ginger spun around on the heel of her boot with the intention of storming into her apartment,
leaving him staring after her, hopefully slack-jawed and regretful. Instead, she ran smack into the
dining room table still blocking the hallway, effectively knocking the wind out of her stomach and her
sails. Fighting the need to simultaneously suck in deep gulps of air and karate chop the table, Ginger
straightened and skirted the table silently, refusing to turn around and gauge his reaction to her
embarrassing mishap.
As she closed the apartment door behind her, she heard Derek call to her. Aren t Gingers usually
redheads?
Go to hell!
In spite of the masculine laughter passing by her door, she heard Willa approach. Well, Ginger,
looks like we finally found the one man unwilling to grovel at your feet.
Guess they d just have to see about that, wouldn t they?
Acknowledgments
To everyone who bought my first book, Protecting What s His, thank you for all the encouraging
comments and requests for more of my work. I didn t expect such a warm reception and I can t
express how much I appreciate it.
To my husband, Patrick, who understands every time we need to pause a movie indefinitely so I
can rush to my laptop and begin a new pass of edits.
To Heather Howland, who never stops working or
plotting. I m so lucky to work with you!
About the Author
Tessa Bailey lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and young daughter. When she isn t
writing or reading romance, she enjoys a good argument and thirty-minute recipes.
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