TWENTY-EIGHT
Gabby, Talia, and Ginger sat around a small café table in the middle of a coffee shop in the center of town. Gabby petted her swollen stomach while Talia stared blankly into a cup of tepid tea. Ginger…well, she felt about as peppy as Talia looked.
Pressing the pad of her finger into the crumbs from the scone she was picking at, Ginger said, “Well, this is quite a turn of events.”
Talia and Gabby’s eyebrows rose and they nodded faintly.
When Talia had called them, her voice filled with worry, and she asked to meet for coffee, there was no telling her no. Ginger had made up an excuse to Garrick that she needed some space and left before he could say another word about it.
It was probably a touch suspicious, considering how close they’d been getting recently, but she’d worry about the details later.
Right now, her friend needed her, and she’d just dropped some heavy shit into their laps.
“How does a prospect get information like that?” Gabby puzzled under her breath.
They’d been mulling that question over for…wow, a good hour now. No one had the answer though. It seemed so improbable. The brothers were very careful about keeping their business their business. Locked doors and filing cabinets, password encryptions, and private safes. They took measures to ensure there was nothing worth leaking to be leaked.
They might keep their business above board, but that didn’t mean that others did. And there was always someone out there looking to ruin a good thing.
Haters were everywhere, and they sucked.
“I don’t know for sure, but giving it to Frank was dumb on his part. Blabbermouth like that?” She shook her head. “But good for us, since we have a chance to stop it. I should tell Tucker, though, right?” Talia asked them, her eyes filled with worry and strain.
Ginger reached out and placed her hand over hers. Talia had explained the situation at home lately. Country hadn’t been at his best, and he was not only excluding Talia, but he was working himself into an early grave—literally, from the sound of it.
“I don’t know, hon. You can if you want,” Ginger told her, “but if what you said is true, then maybe it would be best if we took some time to think this over first. Maybe we can find a way to break it to him so that he doesn’t go off his rocker. Or tell Blake, even.” Considering he was president, it made more sense to her to go to the top of the chain of command with something this big.
“Blake will go off his rocker,” Gabby said with a snort. “He’s usually pretty reasonable, but this…? He’ll lose his mind when he finds out that someone he trusts has been playing him.”
“Yeah, a prospect is one thing…. but a friend like that? I still can’t believe it. I’m so upset…” Talia shook her head. “I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Like, can’t life ever be easy?”
Ginger understood her frustration. She’d asked herself that very question too many times over the years to count. The difference was, she’d learned to roll with the punches.
“Nothing in life worth having or keeping is ever easy,” Ginger stated. It just wasn’t. If it was easy, then no one would recognize or appreciate the good things when they had them. Which was exactly why she’d warmed to the idea of her and Garrick exploring this…thing between them.
It wasn’t going to kill her to try. She hoped. It was just something she finally realized should be given a chance, at the very least, and if she found that it was no good and she’d made a mistake even trying, well, then…it would be better than having unanswered questions, right?
Plus, she really did like him. Garrick Stone was someone worth trying for…she supposed.
Yes, she was trying to talk herself out of liking him, but it was a battle she was aware that she was swiftly losing.
“What do you suggest we do then,” Talia asked with a near-hysterical laugh, “investigate it ourselves? Make sure it’s true before we blow the horn?”
Ginger glanced at Talia then to Gabby. Gabby stared back at her with the same light in her eyes that she felt radiating inside of her. Talia’s gaze bounced back and forth between them.
“You’re not seriously considering that…are you?” she asked hesitantly.
“Well why not,” Gabby said, pinning her eager gaze on Talia. “You’re FBI, so you know all the legal crap, what to ask, how to get information. Ginger is a badass with a mouth and fists to back us up with—”
“Hold up,” Ginger cut her off. “I can hold my own, yeah, but if this happens, you’re not part of it.”
Gabby’s nose scrunched in indignation. “The hell I’m not! Don’t you forget I didn’t ask to be brought into this, but here I am, so you’re stuck with me.”
“No, Ginger has a point,” Talia spoke up. “In your condition—”
“Oh, spare me!” Gabby nearly shouted. “Pregnancy doesn’t make me incapable of anything. Well, except maybe remembering why I walked into a room…and where I put my keys…and I need to pee like every twenty minutes…” She shook her head. “That’s not even the point though. I’m an asset. I can help.”
“I don’t know that you can,” Ginger said sympathetically. “You’re a liability. Not to mention, if anything happened to you or that baby, Blake would bury Talia and me personally, friends or not.”
Leaning in and lowering her voice, the dangerous look in Gabby’s eyes didn’t inspire much confidence in either woman. “If you try to cut me out of this, I will sing like a canary, bitches. Blake will come down on top of your heads so fast, you won’t have time to duck for cover.”
Talia and Ginger’s brows shot up into their hairline. Gabby was not a woman that usually cussed or made a fuss. She was sweet and gentle and nice. This was a side of her neither had ever seen.
“I always heard pregnancy made women heartless bitches,” Ginger commented.
“Yeah, who needs a pair of balls when you have a flood of estrogen,” Talia added.
The women looked at each other and at once, smiles and laughter erupted around the table.
“So, I’m in?” Gabby asked, her earlier bravado considerably diminished. She was back to her normal, easy going, sweet self that the kindergartners around the area knew and loved.
“Yeah, lady, you’re in,” Talia relented.
“But only for talking stuff,” Ginger amended. “Anything physical, and you’re out. Non-negotiable.”
“I swear,” Gabby promised, holding out a hooked pinky finger.
Both women hooked their pinkies with hers and shook, sealing the deal.
“And we don’t tell the men, unless or until we each agree to do so,” Ginger said, eying both of them. They nodded their agreement. “Good. I don’t need Garrick losing his shit right now.” Especially after everything he’s been thorough recently. She wouldn’t take that risk.
“How is that going, by the way?” Gabby asked her.
Ginger looked at her for a moment, thinking of how strange it was to be sitting across from the woman who was married and having the baby by the first man she’d ever loved. Even stranger was that she didn’t hate her, and vice versa. They were actually civil—dare she say, friends, even? Wow, talk about maturity.
“Better than expected. Garrick isn’t as bad as he presents himself…most days.” She gave them a lopsided grin. “He can be sweet.”
Talia, who’d been taking a sip of her tea, choked, and began coughing. “Sweet?” she gasped as she tried to catch her breath. “I don’t think sweet and Garrick belong in the same sentence.”
Gabby was laughing, inspiring Ginger to do the same. “I swear! He can be. He’s just very selective of who he directs it at and when.”
“So, basically, no one and never,” Gabby said with a laugh. “Except for you, of course.”
“Of course,” Ginger conceded with a playful roll of her eyes.
“So, then we’re all in agreement?” Talia checked again. “We’ll keep this between us until we decide otherwise?”
“Yep,” Ginger and Gabby said in unison.
Talia sucked in a deep breath. “Well, I think this calls for something stronger than lukewarm tea.”
Flagging down a server, she ordered two venti coffees with plenty of sugar and cream for herself and Ginger and a latte for Gabby who was craving something “warm and inviting.” Whatever the hell that meant.
Ginger looked at the two women beside her and couldn’t retrain the soft smile. For the first time in her life, she felt like she had real friends. Girlfriends, no less. It was quite the departure from all the testosterone in her life…
…and she kinda liked it.
***
The Tavern was dusty and the air stunk of cigarette smoke and stale cologne. The place was packed to the exposed rafters with men in jeans and leather vests, which explained the rows of motorcycles outside. And the only people who seemed to work there were women. Women who wore nothing but pasties and boy shorts.
“I feel overdressed,” Ginger muttered, eying a blonde bombshell with perfect skin and round, high breasts that were obviously fake but she no less admired.
“I feel old,” Talia added, shifting uncomfortably beside her and tugging at her hem of her basic gray T-shirt.
“Would you two put a cork in it,” Gabby snapped, clearly flustered. “At least you both still have hips. I’m a box with a basketball. I feel like a damn whale.”
Ginger and Talia passed her looks of sympathy, but that just pissed her off even more. With a huff, Gabby stomped up to the bar, shoving a couple of patrons aside and shouted at the man pouring drinks to get the owner.
Sharing a look, Ginger and Talia squared their shoulders and joined her.
“Lou isn’t in tonight,” the bartender was saying.
“Then where do I find him,” Gabby asked, her tone brusque.
The bartender, a man in his late forties, early fifties, visibly bristled. “You find him on another day when he’s working.”
Even from behind, Ginger could tell that Gabby was about to lose her shit. So, okay, maybe the talking stuff wasn’t her strong suit.
Giving Talia another look, she reached forward and touched Gabby’s shoulder to gain her attention. “Hey, let’s give Talia a try here, m’kay?”
Talia smiled softly at Gabby, meeting her fiery gaze dead on despite her discomfort in the face of the hormonal momma’s reaction. It took a moment before Gabby relented, and when she backed off and away from the counter, Ginger took the breath she’d been holding.
While she might be tentative friends with her, she still didn’t truly know how to deal with Gabby. She didn’t know what would set her off or how to tame her or even if it was okay to touch her, but she was trying. Her own bartending at the clubhouse had given her some social skills at the very least, and her frequent run-ins with belligerent drunks made her more than qualified to deal with this situation—she hoped.
At least it seemed to be working.
“That guy was so rude,” Gabby told her, and Ginger wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam shooting out of her ears, she was so peeved.
“That’s a man for ya,” she sympathized, because when another woman was pissed off at the opposite sex, that’s what you did—you had their back.
“I’d like to just—ooh,” she growled, shaking a balled-up fist between them.
Ginger capped her hand over the fist. “Just cool your jets, lady. We’re women in a man’s world right now, and we don’t need to stir up any trouble. Especially because we’re trying to keep our business here on the DL.”
That little reminder seemed to cool her off. “You’re right. My bad. I’m just…I don’t like men lately.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure that’s not entirely true. You like Blake, right?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I love the man, but when he touches my ice cream… There are just some things you don’t do, you know?”
Ginger found it difficult not to laugh. So, she didn’t even try. “Oh, I know. When we get back, we can help you string him up if you’d like.”
Gabby considered the offer for a moment. “Nah, there are laws against beating your husband I think. It’s probably best I stay out of jail anyway, at least until this little one is here.”
Ginger patted her shoulder, ignoring the small pang of jealousy at seeing her rounded stomach. “Amen to that.”
“So, Mr. Tight Lips agreed to call Lou down for a chat,” Talia said, coming up behind them. “He’ll meet us in about ten minutes.”
Gabby and Ginger wore matching looks of surprise.
“That’s great,” Ginger said, impressed. “You really know what you’re doing huh?”
“It’s just part of the job,” Talia said, brushing off the compliment. “I can be very persuasive. Should we sit?” She indicated an empty booth a few feet away with a hitch of her thumb.
The women agreed and claimed the table, ordering a round of drinks to help pass the time—cocktails for Ginger and Talia and ginger ale for Gabby to settle her upset stomach.
When the time for Lou to arrive came and went without results, Gabby grew antsy.
“I swear, this feels like setup,” she told them, her eyes scanning the room. “Doesn’t this feel like a setup?”
“I think you’ve been watching too many crime movies,” Talia told her. “But I agree, something seems off. He should have been here by now.”
“Hey,” Gabby said, eyes wide, “you don’t think…like, they do know the guys, right?”
“You think they might have called them and told them we’re here,” Ginger provided, her paranoia growing exponentially.
“You know what, we should probably just go,” Talia said what they were all thinking, and they slid from the booth at once, ready to get the hell out of there.
If there was trouble heading their way, it would be best if they were gone before it got there. Damn men. Couldn’t trust them any farther than you could throw ‘em, Ginger thought with an audible huff.
She glared at a few men on their way out, just because she could, and in case they were guilty, so they knew that she knew what they’d done and that she didn’t appreciate it.
Wasn’t there an age limit on tattle-tailing?
Apparently not, because the moment they stepped out into the sunshine, they saw a line of Spartans pulling into the lot.
Ginger’s heart thudded as she focused on one rider in particular. “Drat. The jig is up, ladies.” Reaching into her bra, she gave her boobs a boost, squared her shoulders, and pasted on a fake smile.