The Deputy's Duty

“She’ll be fine. Jay has his uses.” Christina attempted to step around Ryan toward Meghan, and Ryan could see Helen begin to stir. “Give me the child.”

Noting that Christina’s finger wasn’t on the trigger, Ryan seized the opportunity. He grabbed hold of the gun but also Christina’s hand and swung her away from Meghan.

Christina’s hold on the gun slipped. The revolver clattered to the floor and slid across the hardwood out of sight beneath the aged leather couch.

“Owwww,” Christina screamed in fury. “Jay!”

A roar echoed in the small house, arising from Jay’s barreled chest.

Meghan cried out a warning. “Ryan, watch out.”

Ryan pivoted. Too late. Jay jumped on Ryan’s back before he could get to his own holstered weapon.

Jay’s bulk drove Ryan forward. Pain shot up Ryan’s leg as his left ankle buckled. He hit the floor with a smack to his knees and nearly collapsed beneath Jay’s gorilla-size weight.

His injuries making him want to do a little roaring of his own, Ryan instead gritted his teeth and grappled with the thug, trying to gain the advantage. Ryan drove his head back into Jay’s pectoral muscle and thrust his hip up, creating an angle. Jay’s beefy fists cracked across Ryan’s ribs with painful impact. Ignoring the jarring hits, Ryan continued with the move, driving his hips across Jay and flipping him over.

Ryan wrapped his legs around Jay and yanked him down while hooking his forearms around Jay’s neck and squeezing.

Just as he’d thought. Gym muscles. All show, no go. It took a lifetime of grappling with three brothers to make a man a real fighter.

Georgina’s frantic cries bounced off the walls.

From his peripheral vision, Ryan saw Christina scrambling to recover her weapon from beneath the couch.

“Meghan, run!” he yelled.

Disregarding his directive, Meghan handed the screaming toddler to a now conscious Helen. Meghan launched herself at Christina and knocked her aside. The woman went flying on her backside and slid to a stop. Her beige slacks hitched to her knees. A cream-colored sock sagged at her ankles. Her brown loafers had dirt on the bottom.

In her hands, she held the gun. “Not another step!” she screamed at Meghan.

Meghan halted, skidding in her heeled sandals on the hardwood.

Christina jumped to her feet and yanked Georgina from Helen’s arms.

Keeping the revolver aimed at Meghan, Christina said, “Deputy Fitzgerald, let Jay go or your friend here dies.”

“Christina, no,” Helen pleaded. “Don’t do this.”

“Shut up!” Christina swung the gun in Helen’s direction.

Helen cowered away.

Ryan’s gaze locked with Meghan. The panic in her eyes seared him. The situation had gone horribly out of his control. And it was his fault. Frustration clawed like a hungry lion through his veins. For a second he tightened his hold on Jay, wanting nothing more than to finish what he’d started.

But doing so jeopardized everyone in the room.

Abruptly Ryan released him.

The big man scuttled to his feet and then landed a vicious kick to Ryan’s side. Pain zinged through him.

With helpless rage, he watched Christina Hennessy and her henchman head out the door with Georgina. He yanked out his phone and dialed 9–1–1.

Meghan launched herself at Christina with a ferocious yell. “You can’t take her!”

Jay backhanded Meghan, sending her flying to the floor.

Fury propelled Ryan to his feet. His ankle gave out and he stumbled. The phone flew from his hand and landed with a clatter against the floor. Jay took off.

Meghan scrambled for the phone. She found it and then rushed to Ryan’s side as he painfully hauled himself to his knees. She offered her shoulder as support, wrapping her arm around his waist and helped him to his feet. His torso was on fire. Most likely a cracked rib.

A dark bruise marred Meghan’s fear-filled face, making him feel worse than the blows he’d suffered.

“Stay here!” Untangling himself from her, he hobbled out the door.

A black sedan disappeared around the corner with tires squealing. Automatically, he noted the license plate number.

At the curb an unconscious Jackson lay crumpled on the ground beside the front wheel well of his vehicle, blood covering his face. Fearing for the young officer, Ryan limped to his side and bent to check his pulse. He was alive. Unsure of the extent of Jackson’s injuries, Ryan didn’t want to do any more damage by attempting to move him.

He hobbled to the back of the vehicle, noting that all of the tires had been slashed, and grabbed the first-aid kit.

Rage pounded at Ryan’s temples in rhythm to the throbbing in his ankle and side. He pressed a wad of gauze to Jackson’s wound.

Self-recriminations swamped Ryan. He’d made an utter mess of things. Christina had escaped with Georgina. Jackson was down. The car was useless.

He was a cop, knew the importance of being proactive and vigilant. And had always lived up to that responsibility, regardless of the cost. He’d sacrificed a friendship to protect an innocent person. He’d done the right thing.

He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to the little girl because he’d failed to stop Christina and her thug, thus putting Georgina in danger.

Meghan came hurrying out, his phone pressed to her ear. She skidded to a halt, her heeled sandals sliding on the sidewalk. She handed him the phone. “Nine-one-one.”

After identifying himself, he explained the situation and gave the license plate number of Christina’s getaway car. The dispatcher assured him the local patrol officers would respond immediately and an ambulance was on its way.

“We’ll need two,” he said before hanging up.

Helen staggered out of the house. Despite her own knock to the head, when she spotted Jackson, her mothering instincts sent her straight to him. Leaving Ryan leaning against the side of his vehicle, Meghan rushed to help Helen to sit on the curb next to Jackson.

Ryan slammed his palm against the hood of his vehicle then wobbled. Every second he stood there Christina and her goon were getting farther away. His gaze grazed over Meghan’s car and the temptation to pursue the perps grabbed ahold of him and squeezed. He fought the instinct; the last thing he needed to do was leave the scene of a crime. He had an officer down and a civilian hurt.

His duty was to stay put.

So he would. For now. But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

TWO

Seeing Ryan faltering on his feet unsettled Meghan. He was usually so in control. She hurried back to his side. “You need to sit,” she insisted and helped him to the curb next to Helen.

Tall, broad shouldered. Lean and muscled in his uniform, the man was ruggedly handsome with no hint of weakness behind the stony wall he put up every time she came near.

“This is unbelievable!” Ryan pounded one fist on his thigh.

Meghan drew away at the explosive wrath. Old fears spurted to life bringing back horrifying memories of her previous existence. Her ex-husband had had an explosive temper. And a mean streak as wide as the ocean. She had the scars to prove it. Her danger barometer rang a resounding alarm. The last thing she needed in her life was a man who couldn’t control his anger.

Needing space, Meghan paced as she battled to maintain her composure as well as her peace of mind.

She could feel Ryan’s gaze like a touch as he traced her path. He was angry. Well, so was she. At the situation, at him. So much for her composure. She’d had Georgina in her grasp. Ryan was supposed to have protected them. She glared at him. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

He met her gaze, his icy-blue eyes dark with fury. “No, it shouldn’t have.” He shook his head, his face filled with self-loathing. “I let myself be distracted.”

She frowned. “Distracted? By what?”

His gaze cut over her before he looked away. The muscle at the side of his jaw visibly pulsed. For a long moment she stared at his profile, at the angular lines of his cheekbones and straight nose, until something clicked in her mind. Did he mean he’d been distracted by her?

Her pulse tripped over itself. Her thoughts rewound to the moment inside the house when she’d been holding Georgina. Meghan had looked up to find Ryan in the doorway. She’d heard his voice long before he had appeared, so seeing him wasn’t a surprise. But the look on his face…that had left her reeling.

She’d known from the get-go that this man was dangerous, on so many levels. It didn’t help that every time she saw him she felt a flutter of feminine excitement.

Men in uniform could do that to a girl. And admittedly, Ryan filled out his blue uniform in a very eye-catching way that any woman with blood in her veins would notice.

But that didn’t mean Meghan would repeat her past mistakes. She’d gone down the hunky-guy road before with disastrous results.

Not going there again. Especially not with a Fitzgerald. She didn’t trust him. Couldn’t even say she liked him.

Though admittedly, the wistful, almost yearning expression on Ryan’s handsome face as he had watched her holding Georgina had both confused her and sent her pulse skittering.

Then he’d opened his mouth and all she’d registered at the time were the cold blue eyes and the hard set to his jaw that she’d grown used to seeing over the past six months in her campaign for more to be done in bringing her cousin’s murderer to justice.

“Have you given any consideration to what could have happened had Christina and her thug returned before I got here?” Ryan asked, his blue gaze drilling through her.

She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “But she didn’t.”

“Dumb luck.”

Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t believe in luck, Deputy Chief. I wouldn’t have thought you did, either, considering you’re a churchgoing man.”

“My faith isn’t the issue here. What concerns me is your lack of regard for your safety. For the safety of little Georgina.”

His words drilled a hole through her anger. Guilt wormed its way to the surface. She probably had been too rash in coming here alone. “I should have called you,” she conceded.

“You think?” he muttered. “If you hadn’t been here, I would have been able to control the situation.”

The censure in his tone dug at her, setting her defenses firing. “You don’t know that. Christina Hennessy’s crazy. You saw proof of that. You believe she killed her husband.”

Saying the words aloud felt like stepping into rush-hour traffic. She and Ryan had no control; they didn’t know when they’d be hit. Little Georgina’s life hung in the balance at the hands of an unhinged gun-toting woman and a muscle-bound criminal with no aversion to pounding on people.

Christina Hennessy may not have only killed her husband, but Olivia, too.

Meghan had to keep pushing for justice. Olivia deserved nothing less. And baby Georgina deserved to be protected, cared for.

She squeezed her eyes tight. Tears leaked from the corners. “Please, dear Lord, keep Georgina safe. Please let us find her.”

When she opened her eyes, she found Ryan staring at her with an arrested look on his face.

Not one to usually pray aloud in public, the heat of a blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. But she wouldn’t apologize. She’d worked hard to reclaim her faith after having spent too many years feeling lost and abandoned by God.

“Why is Georgina so important to you?” Ryan asked. “It’s more than just chasing a story about Burke’s death. So what gives?”

The squall of sirens filled the air and an ambulance roared to a halt a few feet away, followed by a Revere police cruiser, saving her from answering.

She was chasing a story, that much was true. Working freelance meant pitching ideas to various news sources and hoping something stuck. The editor at the Boston City News had been enthused by the hooks she’d dangled: murder, small-town police corruption, a baby without a home.

But there was more, much more to this tale.

Georgina Hennessy was Olivia’s biological child.

And soon she’d have to tell Ryan that Olivia was his half sister. His father, Aiden Fitzgerald, had had an affair with Meghan’s aunt Tara.

Not a conversation she was looking forward to, however necessary. She wasn’t sure how the deputy chief would take the news.

Ryan struggled to stand. Meghan helped him, taking on some of his weight. The heat of his body engulfed her. He was still sweating from the fight. Being so close to him sent awareness skating over her. She forced herself to ignore the attractive draw of Deputy Chief Ryan Fitzgerald.

He was not her friend nor was he someone she could trust with her life or her heart.

* * *

Ryan winced as one of the paramedics wound tape about his midsection. The other paramedic probed at his ankle, setting Ryan’s teeth on edge. He sat on the back bumper of an ambulance, having refused to be loaded on a gurney. He wasn’t that hurt. He had work to do.

He still had to call in a report to the FB police station. Though he figured they’d probably already heard from the Revere Police Department about the injured Fitzgerald Bay officers. Ryan’s gut churned.

Helen Yorke and Officer Jackson had already been transported to the hospital by the first ambulance to arrive. Both had probable concussions. By the time the paramedics had Jackson strapped to a gurney he’d regained consciousness. He needed stitches to his head and had a broken wrist. Apparently Christina had distracted Jackson while Jay snuck up behind him and clocked him good after a brief struggle.

Guilt for the rookie’s injuries piled on top of the guilt Ryan already felt for allowing Christina and her henchman to escape with Georgina. His body hurt, but his injuries didn’t ache nearly as bad as his heart.

It had to be the letdown of adrenaline from his brawl with the muscle-bound Jay and the helpless rage at having Christina take off with Georgina that had him all bound tight inside. Regardless, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to where Meghan stood a few feet away, giving her statement to a female Revere patrol officer.

Meghan talked with her hands, expressing her mounting panic. So different than the soothing way she’d held little Georgina. The contrast fascinated Ryan. Now she seemed to be in constant motion. Under all that nervous energy hid a spine of steel. Thankfully she hadn’t gone into hysterics during the scuffle with Christina and muscle boy. Meghan had done her best to protect the child.

Grudging respect for her crowded his chest.

He forced his gaze away from Meghan.

“Has Mrs. Hennessy been apprehended yet?” Ryan called to the Revere officer who’d completed taking his statement a few moments ago.

Officer Garrett had been talking on his radio and now walked over. “The sedan was spotted going north on Highway 95.”

Frustration knotted Ryan’s stomach muscles. He wanted to go after them.

“Sir, you need to hold still,” the young paramedic advised. “You’ve got at least two cracked ribs. And your ankle is badly sprained. You’ll need X-rays. You could have a hairline fracture.”

Great. A hobbled failure. “Just tape it up. I’ll be fine.”

Meghan finished giving her account of the events and walked quickly toward Ryan. His insides twisted at the dark bruise developing on her right cheek. Her face must hurt. “She could use some ice,” he said to the second EMT.

The paramedic finished with his ribs, helped him with his T-shirt, then turned his attention to Meghan. Ryan gingerly shrugged back into his uniform shirt. His ribs hurt worse than when he’d come between his brother’s baseball bat and his mom’s front picture window.

Officer Garrett’s radio crackled. He moved away to answer. Ryan could see from his expression that something was happening. He tried to stand, but the paramedic taping his ankle pressed him back down.

Officer Garrett approached. “They found the car and arrested the driver.”

Ryan’s nerves jumped. His jaw tightened. “Where?”

“Georgina?” Meghan asked, pushing past the paramedic who was tending to her bruised face to step closer, her wide eyes filled with hope and concern.

Officer Garrett shook his head. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Hennessy and the little girl were not with the man when the Portsmouth police picked him up.”

Ryan tensed even more, sending pain shooting through his ribs. “How close was he to the Portsmouth International Airport?”

“A couple miles,” Officer Garrett stated.

“At least they hadn’t made it that far.” Ryan hated the idea that Christina could have jetted off with Georgina before they could arrest her. “Still, have airport security keep a vigilant eye out.”

The officer nodded and quickly relayed the message into his radio. Then he said, “The guy’s not talking. He’s being taken to the Portsmouth Police station.”

The sound of heels clacking against pavement jerked Ryan’s gaze around. Meghan was hurrying toward her Subaru.

He gripped his ribs and jumped up, keeping all his weight on his right leg. A spasm of pain washed over him. For a moment the world spun. He pushed through the hurt and the dizziness. “Meghan, wait!”

“Sir, you shouldn’t walk yet,” admonished the EMT with concern in his voice.

Meghan ignored Ryan’s cry and climbed inside her burgundy car.

Disregarding the paramedic’s reprimand, Ryan hustled as fast as he could to the side of Meghan’s small SUV, each step agony in his left foot. He rapped his knuckles on the driver’s window. She turned the key in the ignition and powered down the window.

“You’re not going to Portsmouth,” Ryan said before the window was completely down. “You’ve meddled enough.”

“You’re not in charge of me,” she snapped, her hazel eyes sparking with defiance. “Either you’re coming with me or you’re stepping back.”

Ryan reached in and grabbed her wrist. “Do you want me to arrest you?”

When she tried to twist out of his grasp, he held firm.

“Get your hand off me,” she said between clenched teeth.

“You are not going to Portsmouth.”

“I don’t believe you’d arrest me.” Her sharp gaze sliced into him, but he was prepared to suffer whatever additional damage he had to endure to stop her. “You’re going to sit here while my…while that little girl is in danger? While Christina gets away? What kind of cop are you? That man they have in custody may know something useful. Something that will lead us to Christina and Georgina. Christina needs to be punished for her crimes. And that little girl needs to be protected.”

Furious at her for questioning him and even madder that what she said was true, Ryan released his hold on her wrist and yanked on the door handle. Locked. “Unlock the door.”

She shook her head, her blond hair sliding over her shoulder. “No. You get in.”

Barely holding on to his temper, he forced himself to breathe. Arresting her would only be a temporary fix. The charges wouldn’t hold. She’d be back out causing him problems before he could get new tires put on his vehicle.

Waiting for one of his brothers to come pick him up would take time. Time was not his friend here. Every second wasted meant Christina was getting farther away with Georgina. If the police didn’t find her at the airport… The only person with any idea of where Christina and the child were going was the thug, Jay. Ryan needed to find out what he knew. Sooner rather than later.

“Scoot over. I’m driving,” he ground out.

She scoffed. “Not on your life, buddy. You may need to be in control a hundred percent of the time, but this is my car, my rules. And I’m driving. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re hurt.”

His fingers curled. A flash of fear crossed her face as quick as lightning, leaving Ryan momentarily disoriented. That was the second time he’d seen distress that had no basis. The woman was a paradox. Bold and brash, ready for a clash of wills at every moment, yet… He gave a dismissive shake of his head. Puzzling over her wasn’t going to get Georgina back or put Christina behind bars.

“Fine.” He hobbled around the front of the car, keeping his hand on the hood, forcing her to stay put or run him over. He wouldn’t have been too surprised if she tried running him down.

He’d barely settled himself in the passenger seat when she hit the gas and barreled down the street. He slanted her a glance. She couldn’t seem to keep still in her seat. Her shoulders were hiked up to her ears.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his brother Douglas.

“Where are you?” Douglas asked the moment he picked up. As the closest siblings in age, only thirteen months apart, Douglas and Ryan shared a bond of brotherhood and friendship as close as twins shared.

“Leaving Revere,” Ryan answered. “We’re headed to Portsmouth.”

“Who’s we?”

Ryan hesitated, then gave a mental shrug. Douglas would find out soon enough. “I’m with Meghan Henry.”

“You took a civilian out in the field? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t take her anywhere,” Ryan answered, his tone infused with the irritation coursing through his veins.

“We heard there were injuries.”

“Jackson went to the hospital.”

“And you?”

His rib pinched him, his ankle throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “Minor.”

His brother snorted. “Nice try. Cracked ribs and a nasty sprained ankle aren’t exactly minor.”

Ryan tightened his grip on the phone. “I’m fine.”

“Ryan?”

The concern in his brother’s tone lanced through Ryan. “Hey, look, this is the deal. I’m following a lead on Christina Hennessy. I’ll call again when I have something worth sharing.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re following a lead with Meghan Henry, a civilian, a reporter, while you’re injured.” Douglas paused. “Dude, the woman is Olivia Henry’s cousin. She’s totally biased and emotionally involved.”

“You don’t think I know this?” Ryan shifted away from Meghan and dropped his voice. “Better to keep her close so I can control the situation.”

“Does Dad know?”

“He knows I’m following a lead on Christina Hennessy.” As chief of police, Aiden Fitzgerald kept a firm and fair grip on the department. Just as Ryan would do when he took over as chief after his father won the upcoming mayoral election.

“Be careful, brother.”

His gaze shot to Meghan. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by her once. There wouldn’t be a repeat. “I plan to.”

He hung up. Then made the necessary calls to Portsmouth, alerting them he was coming. When he finished his calls, he turned to Meghan. “They’ll contact me if there are any new developments.”

Leaning back into the seat, his aches clamored for dominance in his consciousness. He tried taking a decent breath. Sharp pain was his reward. A glance at the dashboard clock told him they were making good time. Meghan had a lead foot. If he wasn’t so anxious to get to Portsmouth, he’d point out she was pushing the speed limit.

Her nails drummed on the steering wheel as she maneuvered the Subaru through traffic. Pink nail polish on neatly filed fingernails. Long, tapered fingers.

He could imagine Meghan running her fingers through his hair, over his shoulders… .

Needing to keep his mind from rabbiting down a hole that he had no business exploring, he redirected his thoughts to the situation. “What sent you to Helen Yorke’s house?”

“I heard that the charm found near Olivia’s body belonged to Christina Hennessy. When I went to the Hennessys’ house, Christina and Georgina were gone. I figured her ex-housekeeper might have an idea where Christina would disappear to. They’d seemed close before Helen left town.”

A cold finger of dread ran down his back. “Who told you about the charm?”

A leaky police department drowned a lot of good people over time. That information was supposed to be quiet until they could bring Christina in. They’d only recently released the image of the silver dolphin charm that had been discovered at the crime scene of Olivia Henry’s murder. A reliable tip had pointed them in Christina’s direction. Topping that off with the evidence linking Christina to Burke’s death…