“Virginia is putting some little extras in there for him. I pulled aside a piece of the red velvet cake because I know it’s his favorite.” She looked over to the counter where Ginger was placing a container in the box and motioned her over to them. With every step she took, Ginger made his blood pressure spike just a little bit higher. Laughing at something Taylor said to her retreating back, she drew the stares of several male patrons. He hoped they all got food poisoning.
She came to a stop in front of him, leaning in while Dolly gave her a hug. Clearly the clan had welcomed Ginger into the fold.
“Nice shirt,” her mouth quirked with the hint of a grin and he looked down, taking in one of his favorites; a dark blue tee with “Drive safe or I’ll get to see you naked” printed on it. The caduceus and the stethoscope made it funny and pervy instead of creepy and pervy. At least he hoped so.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Mom. You need us to deliver boxes for you?” Jack asked, following Teague and Lucky out of the booth. “I’ve got the truck.”
“I do Jackson. Michaela, Risa, and Taylor already volunteered the three of you.” She smiled as they rolled their eyes and grumbled unconvincingly about the women in their lives. She turned her gaze back to him. “Beck, take Ginger with you and show her around the county while you’re at it. She’s signed up to help with future deliveries and it will help her out to know the area better.”
His gaze slid to Ginger, interested to see what she thought of this arrangement. Her expression was placid, the only giveaway a slight misstep in her speech when she spoke.
“Uh…sure. That would be great.”
“Good.” Dolly raised her hand, shooing them off with quick movements, obviously eager for them to get their butts on the road. “Have a great afternoon kids.”
A great afternoon? Was she stoned? This impromptu visit and area tour was going to take them to some of the worst parts of the county, the places where Beck had grown up and thankfully got out. He knew Ginger and this little trip would only spawn questions about his past that he probably didn’t want to answer.
A walk down his crappy memory lane with Ginger?
Sounded like the worst plan ever.
Chapter Fourteen
“Mr. Campbell, you need to do your nebulizer treatment every day, two times per day. No excuses,” Beck said.
Ginger watched as he kneeled next to an old man in an even older recliner in the living room of a twenty-years-past-condemnation shotgun house on the outskirts of Elliott County. Leaving the diner, he’d thrown the box of food in the back and helped her into a massive silver pickup truck with an extended cab that she’d never seen him drive before. When he eased his long legs behind the wheel, wearing boots, old jeans, and a baseball cap turned backwards on his head, he looked every inch the country boy.
She liked it. A lot.
A short ten minutes of a silent drive and they’d pulled into a clump of houses, all shotgun in style and one-room wide. There must have been at least a hundred of them, some boarded up and all shabby with peeling paint and sagging porches. Some kids had been down the block, throwing rocks or something at glass bottles, laughing when they shattered. It was fucking depressing. As bad as some of the worst neighborhoods in DC.
Beckett had said nothing except to ask her to carry his medical bag as he hefted the large box on his shoulder and mounted the steps to the nearest house. A quick knock, a muffled invitation to enter, and they walked inside and found Mr. Campbell smiling at them, his teeth in a glass on the table by his chair.
“I try to remember, Doc. I do. But I forget.” The man shrugged his thin shoulders. “My mind ain’t what it used to be when I used to yell at you to stop walking through my yard and messing with Mrs. Campbell’s flowers.”
Beckett laughed, shaking his head. “I was a little shit, and you should have whipped my ass when you had the chance.”
“Mrs. Campbell figured you got beat enough, and she wouldn’t let me touch you,” he said as he laid his rough hand on his shoulder. The hands of a man who’d toiled at manual labor to earn his living. “You turned out all right.”
“I think the jury’s still out on that one,” Beckett said, his head dipped low so she couldn’t see his face. She made a mental note to ask about it later. “Take a red pill once a day for your blood pressure. I’m going to make sure our mobile van sees you two times per week, and I’m going to talk to social services about a county nurse visit the other days until we get you fully recovered from pneumonia.” He placed the pills on the table and then slipped his hand into the side of the chair and drew out a pack of cigarettes. “And no more of these. You have asthma.”
“How did you know they were there?” Mr. Campbell asked, nothing on his face indicating that he was embarrassed at getting caught.
“You’ve been hiding them there since I was a kid.” He stood to gather his things, shoving them into the medical bag. “Don’t try to pull one over on me.”
Ginger laughed at their antics. Beckett was once again proving what a knack he had for charming his patients and damn was it sexy. He flashed a glance at her, his face relaxed, smile wide, and she bit her lip with the ache that settled in between her legs.
Desire for Beckett was one of the things she’d become used to and even though the other night had gotten completely out of control, she could still control it. But this guy was…nice…open…a total mind fuck. No, Beckett Sutherland was a total heart fuck.
“All right. All right.” The old man waved him off, sneaking a glance at Ginger. “Don’t show me up in front of a beautiful woman.”
“She’s out of your league.”
“Yours, too.”
“Don’t I know it.” He waved a phone at him. “I’m calling in your new nebulizer meds, and I’ll have the mobile clinic bring them by.” Beckett turned away as his call was answered.
“So, you’ve known BeckettDoca long time?” She couldn’t resist taking advantage of the opportunity to get information that Beckett never wanted to give.
“Beckett? No one’s called him that since he was toddling around in his yard.” He slid a glance to where the doctor stood talking quietly to someone on the phone and writing notes down on a file folder. “He used to love to streak through the yards with his frank and beans a flopping in the wind.”
“Shit! Don’t tell her that.” Beckett glared, his cheeks turning a deep color that could only be called crimson. He opened his mouth to protest further but his call pulled him away again.
“Makes my balls hurt just to think about it,” the older man continued as he laughed at the memory. “But he used to come over and help Mrs. Campbell with the heavy lifting and such after my back was hurt…with his clothes on, of course.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Virginia laughed and urged him on with a smile.
“He would come over sometimes at night when it got bad at his place. My bride liked that seeing as we didn’t have any kids of our own. She’d bundle him up in the spare room and watch him as he slept.” His eyes lost some of their happiness and Virginia wasn’t sure if it was because of the memory of his late wife or of Beckett. Maybe a little of both.
“Was it bad a lot?” she asked, knowing that it was nosy and aware of the tension in Beckett’s shoulders as he half-listened to their conversation.
“Yes. Sandy was not a kind man when he was sober and that wasn’t often. Between the drinking, the drugs, and the whores, we would have taken the boy in every night.” He sighed. “It about broke our hearts when he started running with his father and the rest of Eddie Wilkes’s crew, and we were glad when he got placed with the Landons. They are good people, and they made sure he turned out all right.”
“The Landons are saints and should have drowned me in the lake at Promised Land farm when they had the chance,” Beck interrupted, shoving his phone in his pocket and closing his medical bag, holding his hand out for the older man to shake, avoiding looking at her. “Next time I’ll stay and watch a game with you. Bri
ng some of Dolly Cantrell’s fried chicken. Deal?”
Mr. Campbell nodded. His toothless grin was contagious, lighting up his eyes with his affection for Beck. It made Ginger’s breath catch a little in her chest, seeing how good he was with patients. Beck was a gifted doctor, there was no denying that.
It was the number one thing he had in his favor for the team leader position. To put him in a place to teach other doctors how to do this, to master the elusive talent of connecting with the patient, would be invaluable to the hospital.
To see from where he’d come, to know the obstacles he’d overcome to make it in his field impressed her to no end and brought questions to the surface that needed to be answered. Maybe if she got the answers, she’d understand this pull between them.
“I like your girlfriend, Doc. Glad to see you’ve got somebody.”
“She’s not” Beckett blurted out, his gaze alarmed and apologetic at the same time.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” she said, her voice as firm as she could make it, knowing that her cheeks were red and flushed.
“We’re just friends,” they both finished in unison. It was ridiculous and if she hadn’t been horrified, she would have laughed.
Mr. Campbell snorted with laughter. “Whoa. I hear you both. My eyesight is shit but my hearing is fine.” He shoved Beckett lightly on his shoulder. “Although if you look at all your friends like you look at her I guess I know why your bed’s never empty.”
“Jesus,” Beckett groaned.
“You give him a shot Ms. Crawford. Doc is the best thing that ever came out of this place.”
She said the only thing she could think of in reply. “Beckett is something special. Yes, he is.”
Beckett whipped his head around to look at her, his eyes narrowed to see if she was making fun of him. She smiled at him, trying to make sure that he knew she was serious. He paused, his throat working as he swallowed hard until he broke eye contact. He gave Mr. Campbell’s hand one last shake and responded in typical Beckett fashion.
“Great. You can fight over who will be president of my fan club.”
She followed him out, emerging onto a world where the sun was starting to slide into night. The mountains were purple hued, standing like the Gods on Olympus, watching as the residents of this place endured poverty and no hope. Observing silently as the kids played with glass bottles on streets of broken asphalt. Her anger rose in her belly, hot and sharp.
“You okay?” Beckett asked from beside her where he leaned in close, his breath warm against her cheek as they stood in the shade of the building.
“I’m pissed.”
He jerked back, eyes narrowed. “What did I do now?”
“Huh?” Virginia sighed, shaking her head as she processed his question. “Not at you. At this.” She waved her hand around. “People shouldn’t have to live like this.”
He stared at her, his eyes boring into her own, searching. “They shouldn’t, but they do. I don’t know how to solve it. I just try to make it better.”
“And get kids out of here.”
“Yes. Because if they don’t get out of here, then it gets even worse.”
A car, low riding with bass pumping low and ominously like the tell-tale heart rolled by, the windows so black you couldn’t see in them. Beckett stared it down as it passed, following it with his eyes as it prowled by. The kids disappeared into the shadows as it progressed and turned the corner. He grabbed her hand, tugging her forward toward his truck.
“Come on. We should go.”
Virginia didn’t resist as he manhandled her into the truck, locking the door and starting the engine as his eyes constantly scanned the street. He was like those large cats at the zoo, alert and ready to pounce at the first sign of anything he didn’t like. The truck rumbled to life beneath them, and he pulled out, exiting the neighborhood the way they came.
“Who were those people in the car? Everyone disappeared like it was an old western,” she asked, looking over her shoulder when Beck flicked his glance to the rearview mirror.
“Danny Vega’s guys. They’re trolling for people who owe them money or for kids to work the corners for them.”
“You said it could get worse than this?”
“It sure as hell can.”
“Show me,” she said, meeting his shocked gaze with a level stare of her own. “Show me where it gets worse.”
“Why?” He turned his eyes back toward the road, but the tension in his broad shoulders made his muscles bunch underneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt. “Why the hell would you want to go down there?”
She looked out at the road, the black of the asphalt rushing underneath the front end of the truck as they traveled the highway. “Does DRAGON reach out to kids there?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want to see it.” She let the other reason behind her request roll around on her tongue before she said it, realizing that it was the real reason behind her request. “I want to understand why you do this. I want to see the dragons.”
Beckett stared ahead, silently contemplating her request or figuring out a way to tell her no. He had to know that she wasn’t going to let this go. Virginia refused to fill the silence, letting her behavior communicate just how set she was on getting her way.
She was her father’s daughter and nothing was as stubborn as a Navy SEAL except the kid of a Navy SEAL.
She knew she’d won when he’d sighed heavily and cursed under his breath.
He turned the truck at the next exit and headed toward the city.
Chapter Fifteen
He couldn’t believe he was taking Ginger into his own personal hell.
Beck couldn’t believe that she wanted to see this. Even his biggest donors didn’t want to come here and take a tour. They only wanted to meet the kids when they were cleaned up and lined up for the photo shoot.
He had no illusion that Ginger was doing this to try and get to know him better, to get in his head. He didn’t want her there, didn’t want to peel back any part of his past and let her see it.
But he did.
Fuck it all. He wanted to let her see some of it. Last night had proven one thing to him: no matter how many beds he’d been in, no matter how many planes he’d jumped out of, Ginger had latched onto something inside him.
He drove in silence and she let him stew in his own thoughts. If she stayed in Elliott long enough, she’d know everything about his past. The only secret kept in this town was the recipe to the Comfort’s chocolate peanut butter pie. Everything else was fair game.
He followed the familiar route into the city, the landmarks passing by as she peered out of the passenger side window. When he finally stopped, the mountains had been replaced with three story townhomes style buildings with either commercial space on the ground floor or wide stoops filled with kids who should be in school and parents who didn’t give a shit.
“This is where it gets worse,” he said as he parked the truck but left it running. He propped up the sunroof to let in a little air and sounds from the street. “Mills Street runs north from here to the industrial end of the city. You can get anything on this stretch—hookers, illegal guns, drugs—the I-81 corridor is a feeder and it all dumps right here.”
Ginger leaned forward, watching the activity as every vice you learned about in Sunday school and a few more were laid out like a buffet. Young kids, some girls but mostly boys, ran from one stoop or corner like squirrels hunting nuts. They walked up to cars and pedestrians and then zoomed around hookers and addicts and the general population, busy doing their job for Danny Vega.
“What’s with all the noises?” She angled her head to listen through the sunroof. “Are they whistling? Talking?”
“A little of both. They’re signaling each other. It’s like a telegraph system to alert each other to what is going on, when the cops are in sight or new business is on the way.” He nodded toward a car that pulled up with the window rolled down. “See that kid walk up? He’ll take
the order and the money and then signal it over to the guy on the stoop across the street.” He waited until a smaller boy popped off the front stair and leaned under a crate. “That kid is getting the drugs—probably crack or pills—and he’ll ferry it across the street to the buyer.”
“Are they keeping the money guy and the product guy separate on purpose?” she asked as she soaked in the events, her eyes darting back and forth while her teeth worried her lower lip.
He bit back the admonishment for her to stop or he’d take a bite himself. She was just so close, and her scent filled the small space of the truck cab and went straight north to his head and straight south to his dick. This was not the time even if she hadn’t declared that they were done just yesterday. Even though they didn’t feel done to him.
“Yeah. If the cops bust you, you can maybe get away with the money or the stash. If a cop showed up and took somebody down, this place would be utter fucking chaos and then as empty as the church pews on Saturday night.
“Aren’t they worried that we’re cops?” She glanced at him over her shoulder as she leaned in closer, her voice almost a whisper as if she were afraid to spook the crowd outside the truck. It just added another layer of intimacy to this field trip that fucked with Beck’s equilibrium.
“No. These guys know my truck. I’m here a lot.” When her big brown eyes got even wider with her question he continued. “I come down here to round up some of the kids.”
“That sounds dangerous. I presume that their boss likes them on the job.”
“Just another reason that Danny Vega and I don’t get along,” he answered. “But we never did so it’s nothing new.”
“How long have you known him?”
“We grew up together in The Mill, and our fathers were always bucking for work and attention from Eddie Wilkes. We just followed their example.” He pointed toward the far corner where a kid sat on the stoop, no older than ten years old if he guessed correctly. “I beat the shit out of him to be the bag boy for that corner when we were eight years old and he never got over it.”
Southerin Nights and Secrets (Boys are Back in Town) Page 12