I figured she would know so at least that was a relief.
She had her dog in one hand, the Polaroid of me and Hawk in the other one and she was studying it.
“Ginger, we need a plan,” I told her. “And I think the best plan we have is taking you straight to the police station. You can say you got a craving for Mustard’s and I’ll say I was just in the neighborhood having my annual nervous breakdown.”
Her eyes slid to me and, again with her mouth full, she asked, “Are you high?”
Okay, clearly that wasn’t a choice.
“How about I rent you a car, get you some money, we go to my house and get you some clothes and then you drive to Canada,” I suggested.
“Gwen, your clothes…” she trailed off and shook her head.
“Okay, then we’ll go to the nearest biker babe and stripper shops and we’ll stock you up.”
She glared at me then she stated, “It’s cold in Canada.”
“It’s cold here,” I reminded her.
“Yes, for a few months, it’s cold there all the time.”
“It is not.”
“It is too.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m not going to Canada,” she snapped, took another bite and shoved the photo in my purse.
“Don’t hurt my Polaroid!” I cried, my hand darting out to it to make sure she didn’t bend or scratch it. I pulled it out and inspected it, taking in a huge breath through my nostrils when I saw it was fine and then taking in another one when I saw the picture of Hawk laughing.
Fuck.
“Gwennie,” Ginger whispered and I carefully slid the picture safe into my purse and looked at her.
“How about we go to Dad? Dad’ll have an idea.”
“I can’t go to Mom and Dad. I shouldn’t be here with you and they’ve got your old man. This shit needs contained. It isn’t spreading any further.”
Wow. It seemed like Ginger had spent her time in protective custody reflecting.
Interesting.
“We’re going to Tack,” she announced and I stared at her.
“Ginger, honey, I hate to remind you of this but you owe the Chaos MC over two million dollars.”
“Yeah, well, my partners on that job were Fresh and Skeet and they got their stupid jackasses caught kidnapping you before they were able to move that shit. It was hot. Tack and his boys were all over it. We couldn’t move it until it got cold, not custom built cars and a bike, no way and none of his shit either. That stuff surfaced, it would lead back to them, no one knew they were in on it and they’d be f**ked. Fresh and Skeet share a brain cell so neither of them could open a safe even though they told me they could. I don’t know how to do that shit so all of it is sittin’ in one of Skeet’s sister’s storage units on Evans.”
This was good news.
“This is good news,” I told her.
She shoved in the last bite of dog and then crumpled the messy wrapper and napkin, speaking again with mouth full. “I give you the location, you call it in to Tack, he sends boys out, they find that shit, I’m cool with Tack. Then we meet with him and you text Roarke. You tell them Tack is makin’ the switch.” I sucked in breath as she swallowed but before I could say anything, she kept talking. “If he can take my back after the switch is made, good. If he can’t…” she trailed off and shrugged.
I stared at her.
Then I asked, “Are you nuts?”