Ginger shot to her feet despite one officer saying, “Ma’am.”
But a rush of adrenaline, combined with anger, had her marching toward the door and yanking it open. The radio beeped again, and the same voice spoke, but Ginger couldn’t hear it through the windstorm in her ears. She went out onto the front porch and right on down the steps as her truck came into view.
Her truck.
With Nate behind the wheel. Oh, boy, he was going to get it, and get it good. Her fingers clenched into fists as she stomped down the sidewalk.
Nate pulled past the gate and kept on coming, and every regret Ginger had ever had in her life streamed through her. If she’d just have waited a few hours, he’d have come back. No one would’ve had to know he’d been gone.
Ginger realized then that he wasn’t alone in the truck. Of course, she’d expect to see Connor. But she saw Nick too.
A sob wrenched itself from her throat, and she started running. Nate couldn’t pull into the garage with all the police and prison vehicles in the driveway, and he simply parked behind one of them.
He got out of the truck with his hands up, calling, “I’m not armed. I came back. I’m not armed.” He only took a few steps away from the truck before he dropped to his knees, his hand still straight up in the air,
Ginger wanted to rage at him, but Nick was getting out on the other side of the truck, and she raced toward him. “Nick.”
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m fine.” He caught her and held on, but the reunion was short lived as he turned to help Connor out of the vehicle. “Stay by me,” he muttered to the little boy, his attention past Ginger and toward the house.
She turned and watched as no less than six armed men approached Nate with their weapons raised. She stepped in front of Connor and said, “Don’t watch this, bud.” She reached behind her and pressed his face into the back of her leg, because no one should have to see their father figure get pushed to the ground and handcuffed from behind while five other men pointed guns at him.
They hauled Nate to his feet, and when he came up, the first thing he did was look at Ginger. “I’m sorry,” he called. “I had to go, and I’m sorry. Nick will tell you everything.” The officers wrenched him around, and Nate walked the way they wanted him to as they marched him over to a prison van and loaded him into the back of it.
Then the six of them stood there as if they didn’t know what to do next.
Ginger sure didn’t.
Slowly, she turned back to Nick, questions racing through her head. “Well?” was all she could get out.
“You should really have him tell you,” Nick said. “It’s so much better when he explains it.”
“I don’t think I have that option,” Ginger growled.
“Yes, you do,” Nick said, his dark eyes narrowing at her. “If you wanted to talk to him, they’d let you talk to him. All you have to do is ask.” He bent and picked up Connor. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go see if Emma has any cookies left or if those nasty prison guards ate them all.”
Ginger watched him walk away, dumbfounded. Nasty prison guards? No explanation? He’d just flitted off to the mall to do who-knows-what and he was going to walk inside and ask for cookies as if nothing had happened?
She cast a look toward the prison van and the men guarding it. All it would take was one step to get her going in the right direction. The problem was, she didn’t know if that one step should be toward Nate or toward the homestead.
So she didn’t take it.
Couldn’t take it.
Chapter Seventeen
Nate went to the place inside his mind where only self-loathing lived. In this place, which was a small compartment in his mind that only existed of slate-gray walls, he didn’t have to feel. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to listen to anyone, or wonder what would happen to him now.
He could just be.
When the back door of the van opened, Nate didn’t even look toward it. Someone would come in and make a big sigh and tell him he’d screwed up. As if he didn’t already know. And he hadn’t just messed up with the Bureau. He’d seriously compromised Connor’s safety, and he’d put Ginger in a no-win situation, and he honestly just wanted to go back to River Bay.
At River Bay, he knew who to be. He knew how to act. He knew what to eat, and what time that would happen. He knew how to stand at attention for count, and he knew how to count down the days until this entire nightmare would end.
Everything at the ranch had grown increasingly complicated. Maybe he simply wasn’t cut out for a regular life.
The whiff of sunscreen and sand met his nose, and he got jolted out of the gray place. He looked up, and Ginger sat down across from him in the narrow space. Surprise filled him, and he actually looked to see if the guards were going to let them be in there alone.
The door drifted closed, but didn’t latch, and Nate got his answer.
“Nick wouldn’t tell you, would he?”
The whole way back from the storage facility where Nate had gone to pick up Nick, the young man insisted Nate should tell Ginger everything himself. Nate wanted to, but he also knew he’d be driving into the exact situation that had happened.
“I had to call the Bureau,” Ginger said.
“I know.” Nate nodded, wishing so many things could be different. But he’d spent plenty of time in his life wishing he’d have made a different decision. Done something just a little different. Taken a different way to work one day, or not answered the phone when Oscar had called the first time.
So many seemingly small things had brought his life to this point. Including a small thing like reaching out and holding Ginger’s hand. He did that, surprised and amazed that she let him touch her.
She did pull away after only a few seconds, though, and Nate felt his world shift one more time that day.
“Okay,” he said. “What’d they give you? Ten minutes?”
“Yes.”
“And we’ve been sitting here for at least one.” He drew in a deep breath. “So this is a nine-month story in nine minutes.” He looked up and met her eyes, because he didn’t want to be ashamed of himself anymore. And this particular thing wasn’t illegal.
“I met Oscar Dominguez almost a year before I got indicted for investment fraud,” he said. “We did a few minor deals together, mostly so he could test me. See how I handled his money, and if I paid him out on time. All of that.”
Nate could easily see himself from seven years ago. Young. Thought he was hot stuff. Rich. Good-looking. He’d felt invincible.
“I did, and we worked together well. I made money on his investment; so did he. It was a win-win.”
“This wasn’t illegal?”
“Nope. All straight up investments. Lucrative. High-risk. But legal.” He took another breath. “I’d put a larger amount of money into a pharmaceutical company for him, and it was going well. They got bought by one of the big giants, and we were all thrilled. I called to sell the stocks, which usually happened by the close of business. It did, and we were set to cash out. I had a dummy account for cash outs. That way, I could take my cut of the profits, and then transfer the rest to the client. It kept things neat.” He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes as he remembered the day. He could see it clearly in his head, as clearly as if it had just happened yesterday.