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.
