The Runaway Daughter by Lauri Robinson Read Free Book Online

as a married couple. “Maybe one of your men could come and get her.”
    Roger guffawed. “She’d ditch them. I know that girl.”
    So did Brock. “What about one of her sisters?”
    “They’d all end up in California. The only one I could send would be Norma Rose and I need her here. With you gone, she’s having to dig up a decent musician for the parties.”
    “Have her try Slim Johnson. He’s good,” Brock said, wanting to offer the man something before he asked, “Maybe there’s someone here in Chicago who could take Ginger home?”
    “No one I’d trust with one of my girls.” Roger’s tone turned more understanding. “I know she’s put you in the squeeze, Brock, but I’m calling you out on this one, boy. I need you to take care of Ginger. I don’t have the time to deal with her right now.”
    What man didn’t have the time to deal with his own daughter? Ginger surely meant more than a gangster’s birthday party. She did to him, and should to Nightingale, too.
    “Look,” Roger said, “I have to go, but I’ll call you in a day or so.”
    Brock didn’t bother with a farewell, simply hung up and gathered up the change that fell into the metal cup at the bottom of the phone.
    Oscar was standing outside the phone booth when Brock slid back the door. “You’re an early bird.”
    “Habit,” Brock answered. “You always at the station this early?”
    “Nope,” Oscar said, taking a deck of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Couldn’t sleep. Had to make sure last night hadn’t been a dream.”
    “A dream?” Brock asked, taking one of the cigarettes Oscar offered while walking out of the hotel’s front door.
    “I ain’t gotta tell you what a hit you were last night, do I?” Oscar puffed up a good cloud of smoke.
    “No, I guess not,” Brock answered, puffing a ring to float in the air. He should be riding high. He might well be if not for Ginger and her father.
    “Law says we can only broadcast until midnight.” Oscar waved a hand at the quiet city street. “But, as you saw, Chicagoville doesn’t go to bed until the wee hours of the morning.” Pitching his cigarette butt onto the street, Oscar slapped Brock’s shoulder with his other hand. “You and that dame of yours took this town by the horns last night. Keep doing that, hitting the joints after your performances, and you’ll become a real celebrity. I like how she worked that crowd, promising you’d mention the club’s name between sets. Did you see the clams that doll collected?”
    “Ginger?”
    Oscar nodded and laughed. “Yes, Ginger. You’ve not only got a doll for a wife, you’ve got yourself one heck of an agent.”
    No wonder people had been handing him tip money.
    “I’ll see you at the station at five,” Oscar said, stepping off the curb.
    * * *
    Ginger was still in bed when Brock entered the hotel room. He’d taken advantage of the empty washroom, thinking hard while soaking in the tub, and he needed a fresh set of clothes.
    “Is it time to get up?” she mumbled sleepily.
    “No,” he whispered. “I just need my suitcase.”
    Ginger’s eyes popped open. Water dripped from his hair and glistened on his skin. Stretching her arms over her head, a stirring desire, hotter and stronger than ever, brought her renewed determination, and she tossed aside the sheet.
    “You can stay in bed,” Brock said. “I’ll get dressed in the washroom.”
    Ginger grinned, climbing off the bed. It was time for him to know she never backed down. Not from something she wanted. He spun around before she reached him.
    A primitive need had her nipples turning hard when his gaze landed on her silk underclothes. She’d bought the red-and-white set just for this purpose and wasn’t about to let the opportunity escape. Brock needed her as his agent, but she needed something, too.
    Him.
    She reached out and ran a fingertip down his belly.
    “Ginger,” he growled, stepping back.
    Moving forward, she slid both hands around his sides,