The words were soft and fluttered over her. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was already wet and ready for him. Never before had she gotten turned on without even a touch or a kiss. What was it about Anthony?
Surely it had to be his scent. It was powerful and called to her on a primal level she couldn’t understand.
She stood up and started for the bathroom. “Maybe it’s time we get that shower.”
Anthony slowly rose. A smile danced in his eyes as he followed her.
Staring up at the cracked motel ceiling, Ginger bit down hard on her lip, unsure what to do. Pavel’s latest message made it clear that he was not going to back down.
She had contemplated never calling him again, but it was obvious that a few news reports hailing her as missing weren’t enough to have him saying, “Aw, shucks. Guess there’s no point looking for her.” Pavel was so determined to get the money she owed him, he’d no doubt seek out her next of kin to collect in the event of her death.
The guy was ruthless. He didn’t leave one stone unturned. Once, during sex, he had whispered in her ear that he’d become a ruthless son of a bitch because he had to fend for himself on the streets of Moscow.
That was the kind of character she was dealing with. He had her backed into a corner, doing anything he wanted until she repaid the loan. Bo would blow a gasket if he knew all she’d done, but the way Ginger figured it, she hadn’t had much choice.
Mostly, Pavel had wanted sexual favors. But sexual favors had led to her doing something else the man was passionate
about—a sex film with him. Leverage, Pavel had called it. Leverage her ass. The man was a pervert, which he’d proven when he’d forced her to install a hidden camera in her own bedroom to tape her every private action.
If there was one lesson Ginger had learned in her life, it was not to trust men. Yet she had trusted Pavel when he said he would return that sex tape to her once he got his money. Now, in his latest phone message, he promised to air the tape for the media if he didn’t hear from her right away.
“Son of a bitch,” Ginger muttered.
“Hmm, babe?” The king-size bed squeaked as Bo rolled onto his side. He reached for her breast.
“I’m not in the mood right now,” Ginger quickly told him, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m trying to think.”
“Think about what?”
“About what I should do.” About how she could permanently get Pavel off her back. “I don’t know—maybe I shoulda just had Sha-Shana dress up like a big whore and go to the papers and blab that she was the one Tony had tried to pick up. Surely if she talked, he’d be signing a check for me already.”
“I think this is a better idea,” Bo told her, stroking her nipple.
“We’ve got plenty of days to be together when this is done.”
Bo tweaked her nipple again, still trying to arouse her. Frustrated, Ginger sat up. “I’m serious, Bo. This Pavel guy is really getting on my last nerve.”
I need to get rid of him
. She faced Bo. “How much do you love me?”
“To the moon and back again, babe. You know that.”
“Enough that you would do anything for me?”
Bo ran a finger along her leg. “Anything you want. You name it, it’s done.”
Suddenly turned on, Ginger stretched out on the bed be
side Bo, reaching for his penis. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, Boo. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”
The rustling of paper woke Anthony up. Opening his eyes, he glanced to his left. Lecia sat on the bed next to him, her short hair ruffled, an imprint of the sheet streaking across her face. The bedspread covered her lap, and her arm blocked his view of her breast. Had anyone looked as sexy?
“What are you doing?” he asked her.
“Studying Ginger’s phone bill. There are a few numbers she called several times. I say we try those first.”
Anthony pushed up onto his elbows. “Now?”
“Why not? It’s the only way we’re possibly going to get a lead as to where Ginger is.”
“Maybe we should make love instead.”
Lecia’s eyes bulged as she gaped at Anthony. “Is that all you think about? Sex?”
“When I’m around a certain sex therapist, yeah.”
She flashed him a mock scowl. “We can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not?” Anthony wrapped an arm around Lecia’s waist. “It’s a much better option than running off to find Ginger. Let’s face it, she probably staged her disappearance to make me look bad in the media so I’ll pay her the money she wants.”
Lecia peeled his fingers off of her. “Which is exactly why we need to find her.”
Anthony frowned as he lay back on the bed. “Now that I think about it, I should have known something was up with Ginger. She always gave me the sweet and innocent act, and I bought it hook, line, and sinker. But I bet any money there’s something shady in her past. And not just because she obviously lied to me about her parents, and about having a sister
in New Orleans.” Anthony waited until Lecia faced him before adding, “She told me she’d only been with two other men sexually, but I’m telling you, she made love like a porn star.”
One of Lecia’s eyebrows shot up. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, how innocent could she have been?”
“Oh, come on.” Lecia scowled at Anthony. “You actually think that because your wife knows how to please you in bed that means she has a scandalous past?”
“Now you’re taking up for Ginger?”
“I’m taking up for womankind.” She shook her head. “Men. You want your girlfriends or wives to make love like porn stars, yet when they do, you complain. I don’t get it.”
“I didn’t expect you to understand.”
“Oh, I understand all right.”
He snaked an arm around her waist. “Don’t dismiss me as a chauvinist. You’re good in bed, but you don’t seem like a porn star.”
“Gee. I’m flattered.”
“You should be. Porn star sex is mechanical, unemotional. You’re emotional. I feel a connection with you when we make love.”
Lecia pouted. “But I’m only good.”
“You could be great,” Anthony said, his eyebrows dancing. “I need another sample to determine your true rating.”
Lecia swatted his hand away and held up Ginger’s bill. “Focus, Tony.”
“Oh, I am.” His mouth found its way to her ear. “And you’re definitely great in bed,” he whispered. “No doubt about that.”
Lecia giggled softly as she leaned forward, away from Anthony. “There are a couple numbers on Ginger’s bill that aren’t L.A. numbers, so I’ll try those first.”
“God, you’re one stubborn woman,” Anthony muttered.
Lecia used her cell phone to dial the first of the two numbers. On the fourth ring, she was about to hang up. But someone finally answered. “Hello?”
It was a man’s voice, and he sounded like he had some kind of accent. “Hi, um.” She suppressed a giggle as Anthony’s fingers tickled the small of her back. The man didn’t give up. “Um, I’m a friend of Ginger Beals. I’m wondering if it’s at all possible that you’ve heard from her in the last couple days?”
“Ah, you are friend of Ginger.”
“Yes.” Lecia twisted to glare at Anthony. “Have you seen or heard from her?”
“That is question I should ask you.”
Lecia frowned. “I don’t…” Perhaps there was a language barrier, although he spoke English well enough. “Does that mean you don’t know where she is?”
“I call Ginger. She does not call me back.”
“Oh.”
“Please, will you do me favor? You find Ginger, you call me. I am very, very worried for her.”
“Sure,” Lecia told him. Although she would do no such thing. “Thanks for your time.”
“That was weird,” she told Anthony once she ended the call. “That guy seemed more interested in getting info from me about Ginger than in giving me answers. Let me call another number. And please, stop groping me.”
“All right, fine.” Anthony held up both hands in a sign of surrender.
Lecia called the second number she had marked. A woman answered on the second ring.
“Hi,” Lecia began. “You don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Ginger Beals. We were supposed to go away this weekend,
but she hasn’t returned any of my calls. I found your number in her files, and I’m just wondering if there’s any chance you’ve heard from her.”
“Who is this?”
Lecia paused. “I told you. I’m a friend.”
“A friend who can’t tell me her name? Bullshit,” the woman said. “She put you up to calling me?”
“No, of course not.”
Anthony looked at Lecia quizzically. She shrugged as she stared back at him. He gestured for her to pass him the phone.
“This is Anthony,” he said. “Ginger’s husband. Do you know where my wife is?”
The woman chuckled, the sound full of sarcasm. “Oh, so you’re the one callin’ me.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m trying to find my wife.”
“If I was you, I wouldn’t bother.”
There was something familiar about the woman’s voice, but Anthony couldn’t figure out what. Ignoring the thought, he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Listen, buddy. I don’t know you. I ain’t got nothin’ against you. In fact, I can make all your problems go away.”
“My problems?”
“Yeah, I can help you out—for a price.”
“Is that what this is about? You want some kind of ransom for my wife?”
“I don’t have your wife—wish I did, ’cause I’d whoop that bitch’s ass—but I got something better. Info. The info you need to change the game in your favor. For a hundred grand, I think that’s a bargain.”
“You want a hundred grand!”
“Believe me, you’ll thank me.”
“Thank you for what? You’ve been talking in riddles.”
“Sugar, you’ll have to trust me. I’ll tell you where to wire the money—”
“Whoa, wait a second. Trust you? My mama didn’t raise me to be no fool. I’m not gonna wire you a penny.”
The woman paused, and Anthony wondered if she had hung up. But moments later she said, “No, no. ’Course not. I’ll give you a bite. Something to make you see you can trust me. But you’ll have to head to Kansas City.”
“Missouri?”
“Nope, the Kansas side. That’s where Ginger grew up.”
Was this woman for real, or was this more bullshit orchestrated by Ginger? “Are you telling me the truth?”
“Trust me—once you head to Kansas, you’ll be calling me back. And when you do, I’ll give you the key to solving your current marital problems—as long as you give me the cash.”
Anthony had come this far. He had nothing to lose. “Where in Kansas City am I going?”
The woman gave him an address. Then she said, “By the way, my name’s Sha-Shana. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Sha-Shana had a smugness to her voice, the kind that said she wasn’t bluffing. For that reason, excitement was building inside Anthony as he disconnected the call.
“What’s going on?” Lecia asked.
“Get dressed,” he told her. “We’re heading to Kansas City.”
En route to the airport, Lecia decided to check her cell messages. The automated voice told her that she had nineteen of them.
“Holy cow,” she said.
“What’s the matter?” Anthony asked her.
“I’ve got nineteen messages. I never have that many. I hope everything is okay.”
A little anxious, Lecia listened to message after message, and soon realized that there wasn’t a family emergency. Dr. Merkowitz had called a few times, but most of the messages were from her sister. Clearly, Tyanna was desperate to reach her. There were also two calls from her father, and he sounded none too pleased.
“I’d better call my sister,” Lecia told Anthony as they neared the airport.
Anthony nodded, and Lecia punched in the number to her sister’s cell.
Tyanna answered before the first ring ended. “Lecia?” she said.
“Yeah, sis. It’s me.”
“Thank God! Lecia, what is going on? I’ve been trying to reach you forever. And Dr. Merkowitz called here for you, wondering where you are. It’s not like you to be a no-show for work.”
“I know. I’m going to give her a call.”
“I’ve been worried out of my mind. Talk to me.”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“Yeah, Sheldon told me you called, but you didn’t give him any details. Where are you?”
“Out of town.”
“Where?” Tyanna pressed.
“I’m…on my way to Kansas.”
“Kansas! What’d you do, change your name to Dorothy? Have you forgotten about Moaner?”
“I’m sorry. You’ll just have to keep feeding her, okay? I’ll probably be back…oh, by Monday.”
“Monday!” Tyanna shrieked. “Lecia, this is so unlike you. Who are you with?”
Lecia paused, then mumbled, “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, Lecia. It’s true, isn’t it? I was praying it wasn’t, but I guess that picture of you plastered on the front page of the
Daily Blab
isn’t a fake. And that is no doubt why Dr. Merkowitz called here—”
Lecia’s stomach sank. “What picture?”
“The picture of you draped all over Anthony Beals in the French Quarter. I kept telling myself that it couldn’t be you, that it was just someone who looks a helluva lot like you.”
Shit!
How had this happened? A lightbulb went off. The guy with the camera who’d taken their picture—then taken off.
“Lecia, are you really with Anthony Beals?”
Lecia blew out a sigh and glanced at Anthony. He was eyeing her warily.
“Yes.”
“Now I know you’ve lost your mind.”
“It’s a complicated situation.”
“That man’s wife is missing, the police want to talk to him, and you’re out of town with him?” Tyanna exclaimed. Lecia pulled the phone away from her ear as her sister continued. “I know I told you that you have to live a little, but this is just plain scary. People are speculating the guy’s wife is dead!”
When Tyanna stopped talking, Lecia brought the phone back to her ear. “She’s not dead,” she told her sister confidently. “And if she is, Anthony didn’t do it.”
“The way the media is painting the picture, it looks like he ran.”
“Damn.”
“What?” Anthony asked.
“My sister said they’re saying you ran.”
“Is there a warrant out for my arrest?”
“Is there a warrant out for his arrest?” Lecia asked.
“Not so far. At least not that I’ve heard.”
“But Sheldon can check on that, right?” What good was a police officer brother-in-law if he couldn’t do a bit of digging?
“Lecia, do you hear yourself? Whether or not the police are after him is not the issue. I admit I was initially in the guy’s corner because there was an obvious spark between you two. But murder—that’s a different matter. If he’s as innocent as you say, why’d he take off?”
“He didn’t take off. He’s trying to find his wife.”
“You remember O.J., don’t you?”
“Don’t even compare this to O.J. Come on, sis. You know the kind of person I am. You know you can trust my judgment. I’ll tell you all the details when I get back. Hopefully, by then we’ll have the answers we need.”
Tyanna exhaled loudly. “I can see there’s no changing your mind. Just please, be careful.”
“I will. I am. Please take care of Moaner for me.”
“All right,” Tyanna grudgingly agreed.
“I’ll call the office next, but if anyone else by any chance tries to reach me, tell them I’m violently ill.”
“You know you need to call me over the weekend. You can’t leave me worrying.”
“Okay. But I’ve got to go now.”
“Love you.”
“I love you, too.” Ending the call, Lecia dropped her head back against the headrest and moaned.
“What is it?” Anthony asked, his tone saying he knew something was wrong.
“I don’t understand how they did it. I mean, we’re all the way in New Orleans—”
“What?”
“The
Daily Blab.
According to my sister, we’re on the front page.”
“Son of a bitch! What are those fools doing, following us?”
“I guess…Yes, they must be.” How else could this have happened?
“Anyhow my wife has been hurt or killed, there’s no way I’ll get a fair trial.”
“It almost sounds like…like someone’s out to get you.”
“It damn well does sound like that.”
Anthony veered suddenly, pulling the car into a convenience store lot and stopping. She looked at him questioningly.
“Do me a favor, Doc. Would you go in and pick up a copy of the
Daily Blab
? Better yet, pick up all the copies.”
“All right.”
A minute later Lecia hurried back with an armful of news
papers. She plopped them onto the seat, shaking her head as she did.
Anthony snatched up a copy—and his stomach bottomed out. There he was, his face unmistakable beneath his hat, his arm draped around Lecia’s waist, her head cradled against his chest. The headline screamed:
FOUL PLAY
?
WILL STAR QUARTERBACK BE BENCHED FOR LIFE
FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE
?
“Holy shit,” he muttered, although what he really wanted to do was punch a hole through the windshield. He reread the headline, growing angrier. “How the hell can these assholes write something like this? I’m gonna sue them. This kind of headline is totally inflammatory. It’s libel. For God’s sake, Ginger isn’t even dead.”
Lecia, next to him, with the papers between them, was reading the story. “On page two it
does
say that Ginger isn’t confirmed dead—for all the good it does. It also says you’re ‘gallivanting’ with me in the Big Easy.” She looked up and groaned in frustration. “If you want to head back home, I’ll understand.”
“I can’t. Not until I find Ginger.”
“And what if she’s not in Kansas?”
“Then we’ll head back to L.A. I can’t search every part of the country for her. But at least I’ll have given it my best shot.”
Lecia reached for his hand and squeezed it. “No one in their right mind can think you did anything to your wife. And if they do, I know the truth, and I’ll testify to that. To the fact that you found your home in shambles, how you went above
and beyond the call of duty to find Ginger. We’ll get through this, Tony. Well…you will.”
As Anthony stared down at their linked hands, he felt some of his ire ebb away. Lecia never ceased to make him feel better.
She pulled her hand away. “Better dump these papers.”
Anthony watched as she got out of the car, went to the garbage bin outside the store, and threw the papers away.
He had the weird feeling that he didn’t want this trip to end. He wasn’t yet ready to part ways with Dr. Love.
Their flight landed in Kansas City before sundown. As they had in New Orleans, Lecia rented the car while Anthony waited outside. If anyone had recognized them while they’d traveled, they had kept their distance so far. Recognizing them now, after the story, most people would probably have been afraid of him, he thought ruefully.
Lecia pulled the Explorer up to the curb where Anthony waited. She got out and let Anthony slip in behind the wheel. Getting into the passenger seat beside him, she opened the map. “Where to?”
“Let me take a look.” He took it from her. “This isn’t a very detailed map. I’ll stop at a convenience store and ask someone for better directions.”
“I’d better be the one to do that. Considering.”
“Right. I’m practically a fugitive.”
As Anthony drove off, Lecia stared at his profile. She wasn’t sure what was running through his mind. “How’re you holding up?”
“Kind of anxious. Wondering what I’m gonna say to Ginger if I find her at this address.”
Lecia nodded as she settled back in her seat. What could
she say? This situation had to be horrible for him. She remembered how devastated she’d been when she learned the truth about Allen, and she hadn’t been implicated in any crime. There was a lot more at stake for Anthony than simply a failed marriage.
They drove for a distance through the streets of Kansas City, until the landscape changed from industrial to low-income housing. Anthony eventually pulled up in front of a one-story white house with a dilapidated porch.
Is this where Ginger grew up? he wondered. Despite his anger over Ginger’s betrayal, he couldn’t help feeling a stab of sadness for his wife. If this was where she had been raised, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why she’d headed to Los Angeles with bright lights in her eyes.
Anthony turned to Lecia. “I won’t be long.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. I’m coming with you.”
“Maybe it’s best—”
“No,” Lecia protested. “No, I won’t sit in the car.”
“If Ginger’s in there—”
“That’s the whole reason you wanted me along, remember? To talk to Ginger. To—To facilitate conversation between the two of you. So I don’t see why—why you’d want me to wait in the car. What good am I going to be in the car?”
“All right,” Anthony said, noticing that she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “We’ll both go.”
They both got out of the Explorer and walked up the cracked walkway to the small house. At the door, Anthony took a deep breath and glanced down at Lecia. She nodded as she met his eyes.
He knocked, then waited. Several seconds elapsed with no response. But Anthony could hear the sound of a television blaring inside and knew someone was home.
He pounded on the door this time. Then drew up short when it flew open moments later.
A short, dark-skinned woman with curlers in her hair eyed both of them suspiciously. “Yeah?” she all but barked.
“Uh, hi,” Anthony said. “I apologize for disturbing you, but I’m wondering…wondering if someone I know is staying with you.”
“Ain’t nobody staying here with me ’cept my son.”
She could be lying, he thought. Ginger would tell her to, of course. “Tell Ginger I just want to talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“I don’t know no Ginger.”
This couldn’t be a dead end. It just couldn’t be. “Maybe you know her by another name,” Anthony said, thinking out loud. He dug into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “Let me show you a picture.”
Recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes as she regarded the photograph. Then she placed a hand on her large bosom as she started to laugh.
“What is it?” Anthony demanded. “What’s so funny?”
“
Ginger?
That what she callin’ herself these days?”
Anthony’s heart slammed against his rib cage. “So you
do
know her.”
“Oh, I know her all right. But I sure as hell didn’t name her anythin’ as stupid as Ginger.”
“This…” Anthony swallowed as he realized that Ginger had indeed grown up there. “This is your daughter?”
“Much as I wish I could disown her the way she did me, yeah, that my daughter.”
Thank God.
“Is she here?”
“Nope.”
“Hey, it’s Anthony Beals!” a young boy shouted. He squeezed past the woman, into the doorway.
“Tyrone.” She wagged a finger at him. “I told you to clean your room.”
“But, Mama, this is Anthony Beals! Man, I watched every game you played.”
Anthony smiled. “
Every
game? You don’t look old enough.”
“I’m nine,” he said proudly. “And believe me, I’m yo’ biggest fan.”
“Tyrone,” the woman said impatiently.
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Tyrone!”
“Ma’am, it’s okay,” Anthony said to the woman. To the boy, he said, “Sure, Tyrone. I’d be happy to give you an autograph.”
“Oh my God,” Tyrone said. “I gotta get paper!”
The woman rolled her eyes as her son ran off. “That child. At least he doin’ better in school than Takesha ever did.”
“Takesha?”
“Ginger. Whatever you call her.”
The kid came back with a football and a marker. He passed both to Anthony, then watched with mounting excitement as Anthony autographed the ball.
“Thanks so much, Mr. Beals.”
“No problem.”
“My friends are gonna be
so
excited when I tell ’em you came to my door.”
“You go on and clean yo’ room now.” Tyrone’s mother gave him a light shove, but Tyrone hovered behind her, his eyes dancing.
“So,” Anthony began, getting back to the situation at hand. “Ginger—I mean Takesha—isn’t here?”
“I ain’t seen or heard from that chile in at least a year.”
Shit.
They’d come all this way for nothing. He knew it would be useless, but still he asked, “You have no clue how to reach her?”
“Nuh-uh. Sorry.”
Behind her, Tyrone said, “You lookin’ for my sister?”
“What you think?” his mother asked. “He just showed up here so he could sign yo’ football?”
Clearly, these people didn’t know that he was Ginger’s husband. And why should they? Ginger had told him that her mother had died years ago, and that was clearly a lie.
“Your sister’s an old friend,” Anthony said to Tyrone. “I was hoping to get in touch with her again.”
“Oh,” the kid said nonchalantly. “Then you might wanna try Bo.”
“Bo?”
“Yeah, Bo. You don’t know Bo?”
Anthony shook his head. “Naw, I don’t know Bo. But your sister has a lot of friends. I don’t know them all.”