Dread settled heavy in Derek’s stomach. His eyes strayed to the picture of Ginger sitting on his desk. Blowing him a kiss in her purple bikini, the Miami sun setting in the background. Long, chestnut-colored hair in tumbling waves around her face. Brave, vulnerable, too-gorgeous-for-words Ginger. His reason for drawing breath.

Derek reminded himself that Alvarez was still waiting for a response. “You’re right about that.” He held his hand out for the folder and Alvarez handed it over. “But if we’re successful, and I plan to make damn sure we are, this department will finally break the backs of both the Lazio and Modesto crews in one fell swoop.”

Alvarez studied him for a moment. “All right. I’ll leave you to plot the bad guys’ respective downfalls, Lieutenant.” The older man rose to exit the office, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You know what they call a raid like this?”

Derek arched an eyebrow.

“A widow-maker.”

Long moments passed while Derek absorbed the implications of what he was taking on. The risks involved in taking down a dangerous crime family and their potential new partners. Was getting justice for one man and his family worth the risk? Yes, he thought without hesitation. How many men would they lose in the years to come if he allowed these criminals to remain loose on the streets? How many more widows? Fatherless children? This was his job. His responsibility. He had the power, the opportunity, to stop it. Turning a blind eye would be irresponsible. Beneath him.

Once again, his gaze landed on Ginger’s smiling face in the photograph. She would protest mightily if she knew he considered her to be his responsibility as well. An infinitely more pleasurable one than his job, but a responsibility nonetheless. Hell, they were responsible to each other. She would lose her shit if she knew the danger he was getting ready to put himself in. Just like he’d lost his when she’d endangered herself last year in a stubborn attempt to do the right thing and return the $50,000 she’d stolen to create a new life for herself and Willa.

Derek raked a hand down his face. Shit. He couldn’t tell her about the upcoming raid. Not without scaring the hell out of her. Their relationship thrived on honesty. He’d been the one to insist on that—to demand it, initially. Breaking through her barriers, earning her trust, hadn’t been easy, but it had been the most rewarding accomplishment of his life.

He brushed his thumb over the photograph, imagining her beautiful face covered in tears. Her ability to love without the constant fear of losing that love was still fragile. The possibility of not holding her through the night, every single night for the rest of her life should things go bad, was a distraction he couldn’t deal with right now. Distractions could cost lives—maybe his own.

He’d need to distance himself, he realized. The decision ate him alive, but it couldn’t be helped. He had a responsibility to the fallen officer and needed to see it through.

Focus on the case. Plan it down to the smallest detail, take the f**kers down, and get back to your woman.

He brushed his thumb over the photograph again.

Try to understand, baby.

Chapter Three

Ginger rose from her kneeling position, intending to retrieve the furniture lacquer from under the sink, then froze. She frowned down at the decoupage nightstand she’d spent the afternoon decorating with magazine cutouts so they formed a cohesive collage. With the 9 to 5 soundtrack blasting from the stereo, she’d lost herself in the supposed Halloween design she’d been planning on displaying this week in her shop, leading up to the holiday.

Instead? Pink. Baby. Shit. Everywhere.

At this rate, she wouldn’t need to drop the baby bombshell on Derek. He’d take one look at her latest creation and know she was in the family way within seconds. She wouldn’t have the chance to prepare him carefully, like she’d planned. Or to stuff him full of her famous chicken potpie first. Her nervous gaze flew to the clock. Derek would be home any minute. With a muffled curse, she gripped the edge of the nightstand and dragged it into the nearest closet, slamming the door shut just as Derek entered the apartment.

Ginger took a moment to adjust her bra, tugging down the snug material of her tank top while she was at it. No sense in letting a perfectly good cle**age day go to waste, right? If it made her feel slightly better going into the big reveal with a fully loaded arsenal, well, she wasn’t harming a fly, was she?

She turned and cocked her hip, knowing her white cotton skirt would slide up her thigh with the action. Heaven help the man, he loved her thighs. “Hey, darlin’.”

Loosening his tie, he watched her closely. “Ginger.”

His deep voice traveled across the room to massage her senses. Fire licked in her belly, her loins, her br**sts. He did it all to her with a single word. A year ago, when she’d moved in next door to Derek, this intense chemical reaction had alarmed her. Made her feel out of control. Needy. Powerless. Now, she knew better. She held just as much power as Derek. But Lord, did they wield that power in different ways.

Still observing her through heavy-lidded eyes across the room, he began rolling up his sleeves to reveal brawny forearms. Slowly. With intention. Her chest shuddered on a deep breath, pulse kicking up ten notches. Feet rooted to the floor, she could only watch and wait to determine his purpose. Not having seen him in nearly two days, she used the time to drink him in, appreciate the breathtaking man she shared a bed with. Derek managed to look at home in his suit, although she knew from experience he owned whatever he wore. Confident and sensual one minute. Challenging and ruthless the next. She’d once likened him to a barroom brawler, all cut muscles and harsh angles. A body she never got tired of tracing with her fingers, her tongue.

He regarded her steadily from behind green eyes, his demeanor casual. However, with his dark brown hair slightly mussed, she knew better. He had a habit of losing his patience with it when he wanted something. Usually her. The undercurrent of lust had already reached her, enfolding her to drag under its surface. It never took a day off. She couldn’t escape the connection between them and didn’t want to.

When he’d finished his appraisal, Derek rounded the couch and came toward her, each step purposeful. Already panting with need, Ginger let him walk her backward until her body made contact with the hard wall of the living room. His masculine scent, mixed with a hint of leather and coffee, caused her body to ready, recognizing its mate. She welcomed the warm, damp sensation between her thighs, knowing her readiness would please him. Derek braced his hands above her on the wall, but didn’t make contact with her body. She wanted to sob a protest and pull him closer, but knew better than to push. Much as it pained her keeping quiet, patience always paid off with Derek.

He let his head drop down so he could speak, very precisely, near her ear. “Take my c**k out.”

This time she couldn’t contain a whimper of anticipation. With shaky hands, Ginger quickly undid his belt buckle, movements slightly clumsy under his watchful gaze. His button and zipper came next. She could feel his weighty erection pressing against his boxer briefs. Unable to help herself, she took a moment to squeeze him, run her thumb up the sensitive underside.

“I didn’t give you permission for that.” His eyes were closed, a telling sign that despite his harsh words, her touch had certainly affected him. Then they snapped open, harder than before. “Reach inside, wrap me in your hand, and take me. The f**k. Out.”