by Nadia Lee
He needed to know what was in the text to fix the mess. He called Mark. “What does the family do when we want something somewhat shady taken care of?” he asked.
“Uh.” Mark cleared his throat. “What kind of shady stuff are you talking about?”
“I want to look at somebody’s texts.”
“Oh, that kind of stuff.” A short pause. “You, ah, wouldn’t be trying to hack into Ginger’s texts or anything, would you?”
“What if I am?”
“It’s better if you don’t. I don’t know what happened between the two of you that you left the States and ignored her, but you can’t have any meaningful relationship if you have to monitor her every move. Not even Dad did that with Mom. If you can’t trust her a hundred percent, then you should stop seeing her.”
“It’s not like that, Mark.”
A sigh. “You’re a smart guy, so I’ll quit nagging.”
“The person I should be calling?” Shane prompted.
“It should be on your phone. Listed under The Man, your nickname for Benjamin Clark.”
Shane thanked Mark and found The Man.
A cold, professional female voice answered. “Yes, Mr. Pryce?”
“I want Ginger Maxwell’s texts for the last three weeks sent over. Her number is…”
Chapter Nineteen
Debbie was a true friend. She didn’t wrinkle her nose at the mess that was Ginger’s apartment, she arrived in pajamas…and she came in carrying two cartons of chocolate ice cream and three boxes of Godiva truffles.
“I’m not letting you spend the night alone. We’re having a sleepover, just like back in high school,” Debbie said, explaining away her yellow Winnie the Poo pajamas. “You sounded absolutely wretched over the phone. What’s wrong?” She sat on the couch, giving Ginger a spoon and a carton.
Ginger took a bite of the sinfully rich ice cream. “The investigator your Dad referred me to came through.”
“Okay… That’s good, right?”
Ginger blinked as more tears came. “I don’t know. I wish I’d never tried to find out.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“Shane mailed the pictures.”
“What? Like your fiancé Shane?”
Ginger nodded as her face was too scrunched to speak.
“That rat bastard. Can I set him on fire?”
“No. I don’t want to see you go to jail.”
“If we get even one female juror at my trial, I’ll be acquitted.” Debbie ripped open a box of truffles and handed it to Ginger. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Ginger stuffed a piece into her mouth.
“I knew the Pryce family was messed up, but wow. Shane takes the gold medal for the fucked up asshole division. Who mails himself fake pics of his girlfriend? And for what reason?”
“That’s what I don’t understand. It wasn’t like we were married and he was trying to avoid paying alimony or something. All he had to do was break up with me. It would’ve hurt like hell, but I would’ve moved on.”
“Seriously.” Debbie started to spoon her ice cream up with more fury. “Just because he’s a messed up psycho doesn’t mean everyone else is.” Her face took on a pensive look. “Wow, you know…what he did almost makes Dane look normal.”
Ginger snorted, then sobered. She still couldn’t believe everything had been lies—his courage to be able to say he was sorry when he knew he was wrong even back in high school, and the way he’d been always so true to her. She still loved him.
“Hey,” Debbie said, reading her look. “You dodged a bullet.”
“But it hurts.” Ginger swallowed a big lump. “Instead of feeling relieved, I want to crawl into a hole and never come out.”
“Aw, sweetie.” Debbie hugged her. “It hurts now, but it won’t hurt forever. Just give it some time. There are billions of men out there. Surely there’s one for you.”
“Yeah…you’re right.” But Ginger couldn’t help but think that the only man for her was Shane.
* * *
Source confirmed. Shane Pryce.
Shane Pryce is the one who made the photos? Is that what you’re saying?
Mailed. Don’t know who took the photos.
Do you know which Shane Pryce? There are a lot of people with that name.
Don’t know his full name, but the two middle initials are L. A.
Shane stared at the texts. Whoever had sent them to Ginger was unidentifiable. Probably a burner phone, the report had read.
It had been four days since Ginger kicked him out of her apartment, and the number of questions swirling around in his head was staggering. He didn’t understand what had been meant by “made” the photos. That was an odd way of putting it, and just added to the mystery of why she was so worried about them, and why she’d reacted the way she had three nights ago.
The hollow in his heart grew worse. An attempt at meditation—he’d remembered it was Iain’s favorite way to relax and re-center himself—hadn’t helped. Instead, it had only accentuated how empty he was inside.
If he could just reach that sanctuary… He closed his eyes. He knew it was out there somewhere, but his memory still had too many holes. He threw a book at the wall. “Damn it!”
He found his keys in the bottom drawer in his office. The housekeeper had kept his place immaculate, always dusting and vacuuming, wiping things down and putting them away. He’d looked through the photos in the albums, wondering if they contained clues. None of them were bad enough to cause that kind of reaction from Ginger.
There was one place he hadn’t looked yet. Given the rather pricey lock on the door, maybe that was where he’d stored expensive cameras and other equipment. Still, he should check.
The lock clicked, and the door opened silently. Thick curtains were drawn tightly across the windows, and the room was pitch black. He flipped the switch on.
Lights illuminated photos. Lots and lots of them that had been carefully processed and hung. Most were frameless, mounted on stiff canvas, letting the pictures stand on their own.
He traveled slowly along the walls, studying the pictures. Had he taken them all? Was she upset about one of the ones in the room?
Most of them featured Ginger. Her in the sunlight. Her in the shadows. Her gorgeous, bare back. The close up of the smooth lines of her shoulders and collarbones. The black and white shot of her smiling face with only her lips in a vivid bright rose tone. There was one with Ginger lying on a bed of diamonds, her arms crossed over her bare torso.
Every one of them showed her in various moods and states of dress—or undress. He stared at them, like he was seeing Ginger for the first time ever. This was what she’d been to him—his light, the meaning of his life.
His breath rushed out, his knees weakening like pillars of wet sand. What the hell was he doing, trying to figure everything out before approaching her again? That wasn’t fixing the problem; it was avoiding the problem because he knew he’d had something to do with her breakdown the other night. Otherwise she wouldn’t have asked him to get out.
He grabbed his car keys. It was one o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t give a damn. He was going to see Ginger now.
Chapter Twenty
Shane pounded on Ginger’s door. He’d considered calling, but he didn’t want to give her time to get her defenses up. No more walls, he thought. He was going to talk to her and they were going to get everything sorted out that night.
Finally the door opened, and a petite Asian woman glared up at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her arms were crossed and her jaw jutted out, but the tough routine was ruined by her yellow Winnie the Pooh pajamas. “Do you know what time it is?”
“As a matter of fa—”
“That’s right, it’s after one. Ginger just fell asleep, so I say you get the hell out of here before I call the cops for harassment and public disturbance. And I’m sure they’ll think of some other charges to tack on if I ask nicely.”
He squinted. “Are you
Debbie?”
“The one and only. And you’re Shane, the world’s biggest jackass. So nice to meet you and good-bye. Don’t ever darken Ginger’s doorstep again. I’m going to get her a Rottweiler as soon as the pet shops open tomorrow. An early Christmas present.” She bared her teeth.
“I don’t think pet shops sell Rottweilers.”
“For the right price they’ll get one.”
He sighed impatiently. “Look, I’m not here to fight with you.”
“Oh, but I am sooo here to fight with you. I don’t want you anywhere near Ginger.”
“Can we not talk in the hallway? The neighbors are going to hear everything.”
“When did you start caring so much about Ginger anyway?” But Debbie came out with keys jangling in her hand and locked the door. “Come on.”
She flip-flopped her way down the hall and past a heavy metal door that let out onto the emergency stairwell. After Shane had walked past her, she shut it and spun around to face him. The smooth steel platform was just big enough for two people.
“Now nobody’ll hear us,” she said, her voice echoing slightly.
“You know about the pictures, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a response. “What are they?”
“Oh, that’s funny coming from you. Are you saying you have no idea?”
Shane was starting to get tired of the woman’s sarcasm. “Would I be here if I did?”
Debbie laughed nastily. “I honestly can’t say. You haven’t done anything to prove that you’re a sane individual. The only reason I’m standing here with you alone is because I’ve studied Shaolin wushu since I was eight.” She looked at him cockily. “I’m the stereotypical bad-ass Asian chick, so don’t try anything, buddy.”
“Just tell me!” Shane bit out between clenched teeth.
She crossed her arms. “Last May some photos were mailed to you from Ohio. They were somewhat incriminating, and they featured Ginger. Of course she didn’t actually do any of those things. But whoever photoshopped them is really good because Ginger said they looked totally legit.
“So okay, they explain why you disappeared and cut all communication with her. I guess you were so pissed off and felt betrayed that you felt like you couldn’t talk to her. I get that, I really do. Given, you know, how fucked up your family is and all.” The woman stepped forward and put a finger in his chest, jabbing him for emphasis. “But Ginger should’ve been given a chance to explain herself before you just cut her out like that. Seriously, how many years had you guys been dating? You should’ve known she would never do anything to hurt you.”
Shane stared at Debbie. Her words were like blows to his gut, but he’d had no idea. He still couldn’t remember anything about the pictures she was talking about. “Is that why she’s been avoiding me? She found out about the photos?”
“No, it’s much worse. I’ll tell you the whole story since you’re supposedly all amnesiac and everything.” The cynical twist of her lips said she didn’t believe that. “She tried to figure out who would do such a hateful thing to the two of you. When she couldn’t trace it herself, she hired a pro. And he discovered that the person who mailed the photos to you was…”
Source confirmed. Shane Pryce. “Me,” he whispered.
“Ding ding ding!” She stepped back and spread her arms wide. “You get the grand prize for being the biggest jerk in the world!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Oh, but how can you be so sure? You can’t remember, can you?”
Bitterness surged inside him. “Okay, fine, I don’t remember. But what motive would I have for doing something like that? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“Why do assholes do assholey things? Because they’re assholes.” Debbie put her hands on her hips. “I’m warning you, Shane. Stay away from Ginger. You’ve already done enough.”
“Debbie, you have to believe me. I had nothing to do with the photos—”
“It’s not just the stupid photos, okay? You know why she went all the way to South Africa to see you face-to-face? Did you ever wonder?”
As a matter of fact, he hadn’t. But now he realized that maybe… “She said she couldn’t get in touch with me over the phone or email,” he said almost numbly as dread spread in his belly like cancer.
“She had work here. She had to cancel bookings to go see you. What do you think could have been so urgent that she had to go halfway around the world to see you in person?”
“I don’t—”
“She was pregnant!”
He clenched his hands, feeling like the floor under him had suddenly turned into quicksand. Ginger had never said a word about that. Neither had his family. There had been no sign of an infant at her parents’ farm, or in her apartment. “What happened to the baby?” he whispered.
“She lost it on her flight back to the States.” Red rimmed Debbie’s eyes, and she sniffled. “Thankfully the plane landed soon after she started hemorrhaging. They rushed her to the hospital, so she was okay, but was too late for the baby.”
No, no, no. His mind emptied of everything but that one word: no.
“She was in shock, in pain, and she couldn’t call the one person who should’ve been with her. So she called me instead. She didn’t even tell her family because she was so worried about how they’d react. And it goes without saying your family never found out. I pretended like I went to meet her in Amsterdam for a shopping spree.” She breathed out harshly.
Shane doubled over, raising a hand. He couldn’t listen to any more. God, the pain… What the hell had he done?
But Debbie wasn’t finished. “Ginger’s a good person, get it? She’s one of the sweetest and gentlest people out there, always worried about others, and you don’t even begin to appreciate her. You’ve got no idea what you have because you’re so stuck being worried about whatever you think is more important than making her happy. If I were in your shoes, I’d kiss the ground she walks on every day.
“You don’t deserve her,” she said. “You never did, and I can’t believe she’s even given you a second chance. I sure as hell wouldn’t have.”
“Stop,” he croaked. Self-loathing closed around his throat, and he couldn’t breathe. How could he have hurt Ginger like that? What the hell was wrong with him?
He gripped his head as he fell slowly to his knees.
Ginger gave him a coy smile while taking his picture.
“What picture did you take?”
“Your funny face?” she said with an embarrassed giggle.
“Don’t think so.” He reached over and grabbed her camera before she could stop him. It was the best digital camera on the market—his present for her birthday. He viewed the shot. “My lips?”
“You do have lovely lips,” she said primly, not quite meeting his gaze.
“I do, don’t I?” He grinned. “But then so do you.” He leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers.
The shape—the wide, Cupid-bow upper lip sitting over a perfectly curved bottom one. The texture—soft, plump and yielding. Then the taste—sweet fruit and cream with a hint of spice.
He licked the seam between her lips with the tip of his tongue, teasing and coaxing. She opened up with a sigh, then suddenly flicked his tongue with hers playfully. Her mouth curved into a smile as he deepened their contact and wrapped his arms around her. It was a kind of miracle—a simple kiss that made him feel like the king of the world.
Their first kiss…
The stairwell spun, or maybe it was him that was spiraling down. Shane couldn’t tell—darkness filled his vision like spilled ink. Something hard and unyielding pummeled his body, and he welcomed the physical pain. He deserved it. He deserved much worse.
Ginger… Their baby… She should’ve beaten the shit out of him when she’d come to Thailand.
A muffled scream. A small pinprick of light.
Then all black.
Chapter Twenty-One
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Lines. So many damn lines and be
eps and machines and people and hands.
The faces were hazy, like they were shrouded in white. There was a pervading smell of bleach.
His head hurt, and his body felt like it had been pummeled with a meat tenderizer. A woman murmured something to the people around him, and stuck a needle into the IV. Soon a pleasant fog spread around him and the pain faded. He tried to figure out what was going on. He’d been at Ginger’s apartment…
Ginger… The baby…
He gasped as the pain twisted in his heart. He clutched at his chest, his hand shaking.
“Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?” a woman cried out. “Is he having a heart attack?”
“No,” came an uncertain voice. “I’ll get the doctor.”
Somebody disappeared, and the people around him rearranged themselves.
“Shane, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?”
He stared at the person. The haze started to clear. “Mom.”
She put a hand over her mouth. Her skin was thin and dull. Deep lines revealed her age, and there was hardly any makeup on her face. “Yes, my baby,” she said, her voice shaky. “Yes, it’s me.”
“Ginger…?”
“Not here,” Dane said, his face expressionless. “What were you doing at her place?”
“Needed…to talk to her.”
“Did she push you down the stairs?” Vanessa had her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold, but there was fire in her eyes.
“What?”
“They found you at the bottom of a stairwell. I don’t know why you’d use the stairs when they have an elevator in the building.”
“I decided to work off some excess energy and use the stairs. Then I slipped.”
“The dispatch said a woman called,” Vanessa insisted.
“A good Samaritan. We should give her a reward.” He made a weak waving motion. “Stop badgering me. I’m tired.”
Vanessa immediately backed down. “I’m sorry.”
Shane looked at the anxious faces of his family—minus Salazar.