Ryker (Hope City Book 5)

by Kris Michaels

  After Fenton left, Patel and then Rayburn had asked for a moment of time. They’d both recorded Fenton going off with their phones—insurance should the man do something like try to remove him again. Patel started the recording as soon as Fenton walked into the office and let it run until he left. It was good to know his people had his back, but damn it, he should have their backs, not the other way around.

  His phone rang in his jacket. It wasn’t Brie’s ringtone. Shit. He sighed and reached for his suit jacket just as his front window shattered. A stab of pain sliced his arm. He dove and hit the floor and rolled, coming up on a knee with his service weapon in his hand. A dark blue or black late-model SUV hauled ass down the street. He jumped up and hurdled through the shattered window, pounding out to the street, aiming at the vehicle seconds before it careened around the corner.

  “Oh, my God! Are you okay? You’re bleeding!”

  “Mrs. Thorn, get back inside! Call 911, tell them an officer needs assistance.” She scurried back inside. Other neighbors backed up into their houses when he yelled for them to go back inside. Come outside when you hear gunfire. Sheep, the world was made of fucking sheep cloaked in human forms. He stood in the middle of the street and glared down at the spent shell casings. From where he stood, he could see inside the picture window. He could see the couch where he’d collapsed shortly after coming home. His jacket no longer hung on the arm of the chair. Fuck. He drew a shuddering breath. Someone had tried to kill him. Who and why were the questions he needed to answer.

  The wail of a single siren and then more gained volume as the patrol cars raced toward his home. He saw the first car turn the corner and unclipped his badge from his belt, holding it up like a stop sign. The car screeched to a halt, and the doors opened. The officers took cover behind the doors. “Identify yourself.”

  “Captain Ryker Terrell, JDET Commander. I live there.” He pointed to the small Craftsman. “Shooter has gone.”

  “Description?” One officer grabbed the radio.

  “Late model SUV, possibly a Chevy. Blacked out rear and side windows. No description of the shooter. I didn’t get a plate either.”

  The other officer walked closer. “Yeah, looks like you were busy getting shot at. You guys in JDET don’t do things the easy way, do you?”

  He gave the officer a quick up and down. “Do I know you?”

  “No sir, but you know my sister. Detective Patel.”

  “Ah, she’s an excellent officer.” He turned to face the detective.

  “She’s a brat, just ask my mom.” The guy nodded to his arm. “I think we need to get you to the ambulance.”

  “Ambulance?” He cast a glance around. Sure enough, an ambulance had appeared on scene and the techs were unloading the stretcher. Who was hurt? There were two other patrol vehicles now. He glanced down at his arm. How had he not felt all that blood dripping off his fingers?

  He blinked, and the paramedics were by his side. “Sir, you need to lie down so we can look at your injury.”

  “I’m fine.” He stared at the casings on the street and realized that maybe he wasn’t fine. The brass wavered a bit, and his arm and shoulder burned like a bitch.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so, sir.” The officer, Patel’s brother, was suddenly in front of him.

  The guy weaved. Oh fuck, it wasn't the officer who was moving, it was him. The world tipped radically to the right. “Shit.” He grabbed the patrolman.

  Chapter 7

  “Brie, you have a call on line two.” Lola spun, her long black skirt swishing around her legs as she scurried back up to the front of the restaurant.

  Brie wiped her hands from helping garnish plates and jogged into the office. There was no way one of her family would call during dinner rush. She drew a shaking breath before she answered, praying it wasn't the same disturbed caller from earlier.

  “This is Brie.”

  “Brie, it's Amber. I just got done talking to Kallie and we agreed you need to know. Ryker is in the hospital.”

  Her ass landed on her chair. “What?”

  “We promised you we'd never say a word, but I thought you should know. He was shot, and he's in surgery.”

  “Shot!” She screamed the word, and everyone in the kitchen stopped moving. She slammed the door shut. “Where are you?” She scrambled for her purse and jerked on her small desk drawer to open it.

  “Brie, you can't come, or everyone is going to know. Brody is here, the entire team, our major. Fuck, even that asshole Colonel Fenton is here.”

  “God, what happened?”

  “From what the neighbors said, a blue SUV stopped in front of his house and opened fire. From the blood spray in the front room, it looked like he was on the couch. He jumped through the shattered front window and tried to get a description of the vehicle. The responding patrols said he was bleeding but stable at the scene.”

  Blood spray! “Amber, where is he?”

  “Sacred Heart. We're in the surgical waiting area. Fourth Floor, West Wing.”

  “I'm on my way.”

  She yanked open the door. “Roger, I have to leave.”

  “Is everything okay?” He was waiting outside her door.

  “No. No, it isn't. My boyfriend is a cop. Someone shot him. Take care of the place? I don't know when I'll be back.”

  “We've got it, Boss. Call when you can.”

  She nodded and ran through the kitchen and out the back door. Fumbling in her purse for her keys, she didn't see the man standing beside her SUV.

  “Well, look here. New tires. The pretty lady is just in time to watch.”

  Brie froze and elevated her eyes, her hand still in her purse. “You know, paying us for protection could keep this from happening.” He withdrew a pocket knife and hoisted the blade. His friend rounded the hood and leaned next to the tire.

  No, there was no fucking way. Not now. Not again. Her hand skimmed the handle of her nine-millimeter that she'd put into her purse yesterday when she'd gone to her apartment. Her father's and brothers’ constant warnings about victims of opportunity sprang to her mind. No, she wasn't going to be harassed and victimized again. Her eyes narrowed, and she hissed, “Get away from my truck. You do not want to make me mad tonight.”

  “Why, what are you going to do about it?” The man raked her with his eyes. “You can pay us, and all this will stop. We'll protect you.”

  She removed the gun from her purse and pointed it at him. “You'll never get a penny from me. Now, leave and never come back.”

  The men's bug-eyed, slack-mouth response would have been comical at any other time. “Back up now, or I will shoot.” She motioned with the weapon and the men raised their hands, slowly backing away. “Leave me and everyone who works here alone, or the next time we meet, you'll be holding your intestines.” She used her free hand to feel around the bottom of her purse for her keys and finally depressed the fob, unlocking the driver's side door. Carefully, she got into the SUV, keeping the weapon pointed at the men. She put the car into gear and spun out of her parking slot. The weapon went back in her purse and she flew from the alley.

  On any ordinary day, confronting those assholes and pulling a weapon would have been an almost insurmountable task. She wouldn't have had the guts to pull that gun. She would have given them her purse, the keys to her truck, anything to avoid the confrontation. But they were preventing her from getting to Ryker. She'd have pulled that trigger. God help her, she would have. Tears streamed down her face as she recklessly sped down the street. She wiped her cheeks and gunned it through a yellow light. The hospital wasn't far, but every second felt like hours.

  The parking lot wasn't full, so finding a spot didn't take long. She grabbed her purse, shoved the gun into the glove box, and slammed the door, locking it with her fob on a dead run to the emergency room entrance. Skittering to a stop, she asked the first person who looked up at the admitting desk how to get to the surgical waiting room. Elevator to four, take a left at the end of the hall and then
make a right. The words played on repeat as she waited for the elevator. Four, left at the end of the hall, right.

  The car was blessedly empty and didn't stop until the fourth floor. She bolted down the hallway and turned right. About thirty people turned to look at her as she raced down the hall. She zeroed in on Brody. “Is he out of surgery? Is he okay?”

  Brody's brow crunched. “Brie? What are you doing here? Who are you talking about?”

  She thrust her hands out and spread them wide. “Ryker! Is he okay?”

  The presence of a tall man beside her drew her attention. He had kind brown eyes and a wonderful smile. “Hi, I'm Lieutenant Theron. Ryker is still in surgery. The doctors said that the bullets caught him in the shoulder.”

  She grabbed onto the man's arm and held onto him like he was a life preserver. “Tell me what you know, please.”

  “This is an active investigation. We aren't releasing details.” A bitter voice from behind her startled her, swinging her around. He was an older man in uniform. She glanced at the rank and knew this asshole had to be Fenton.

  “Excuse me?” She glanced at the others in the room. None of the people gathered would meet her eyes. But they were staring, some with open contempt, at the man who addressed her.

  “Oh... I get it. You're Fenton.” She hefted her bag to her shoulder and stared at him with the disgust that had been brewing for months. “What are you going to do, Colonel? Are you going to blame Ryker for getting shot in his own house? Are you going to spin it that he was incompetent for sitting on his couch? Or you could relieve him of command for being off duty at home and then try to paint him and his team as ineffectual as they bust their asses to make this city safer. Let's compare arrest records, shall we? Why don't you whip out your limp dick, Colonel Fenton, and let everyone see how lacking you truly are? If anyone here is inept and unsuitable for duty, it's you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not talking to you, I was talking to––”

  The man's face flushed red and a vein on his forehead bulged. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “My name is Brianna King.” She flung her arm toward the surgical doors. “I'm in love with Ryker Terrell, and just so we are clear, you, sir, are a complete ass.”

  “King.” Fenton sneered.

  “Yes, she's my daughter.” Brianna pivoted at her father's voice. Brody and Amber stood to his left, Deputy Commissioner Duckworth to his right. “Brie, I think you need to take a walk with Amber and cool down.” Her father's voice left no room for argument. She looked back at the doors that were still closed. “I'll send someone for you if anything happens.”

  Amber nodded toward the hall. When they turned the corner, Amber spun and hugged her. “Oh, my God, Brie, you told Fenton to whip out his dick!”

  She chuffed a small laugh. “He's such an asshole to Ryker. I just... God, Amber, my father's going to kill me. Hell, Brody and Ryker are going to kill me, too.”

  “Well, you can only get killed once, right? But the look on Brody's face when you went after Fenton, that was nothing but pride.”

  “Yeah?” They strolled down the hall, finding a small room with vending machines.

  “Oh, yeah. It will take him a couple minutes to digest all of that before he realizes you said you were in love with his captain.”

  “God, I said that, didn't I?”

  “Oh, yeah. Loudly.” Amber shoved a bill into the machine and punched a button for a soda. She popped the top and handed the can to her. “Drink. You need the sugar. It helps when you're freaking out.”

  Brie took a sip and shook her head. “Why would anyone shoot at him?”

  “Well, he's the commander of the JDET team. There are many people who have grudges against us. But you don't need to worry about that. We will find out who did this and why. I know you probably haven't thought about this, but is there someone that you should call for him? A family member?”

  She stared at the top of the soda can. “He's not close to his family, but I know their phone numbers are on his cell. I saw them when I was scrolling through it one night.”

  “Wow, it really must be love if he lets you scroll through his phone.”

  Amber chuckled, and Brie’s face heated. They were lying in bed after a fabulous round of sex and he was showing her pictures on his phone. He'd gone to the kitchen to get them some water, and she'd snooped. “Do you have his cell? I can call them.”

  “I don't, but we can find out where it is. In the meantime, I have orders to parade you around the hospital until called.” Amber linked their arms together and tugged her gently, moving them into the hall.

  “Dad is so going to murder me.”

  “Yeah, probably. And is it wrong to be happy that the family focus is finally off me?” Amber giggled when Brie groaned.

  Ryker blinked his eyes and jolted, trying to orient himself. A soft hand landed on his arm and he jerked. A nurse?

  “You're in recovery. You just came out of surgery. The doc will be here to talk to you soon. How's your pain level?”

  He shook his head. “Fuzzy.”

  “That's expected. You're lucky Doc Phillips was on call. He's the best orthopedic surgeon in the city. Is there someone in the waiting room you'd like me to get for you?”

  “Brianna.” He croaked the word, swallowed, and then said her name again.

  “I'll go get her. You rest.” The nurse patted his forearm again and dipped out of the curtain-partitioned area.

  A rotund man as round as he was tall waddled into the room after she left. “Captain Terrell, I'm Dr. Phillips. How are you feeling?” He came and stood beside the bed and tented the material of the sling they’d placed Ryker’s arm in, taking a peek and nodding. He didn't wait for Ryker to speak but continued on. “The bullet shattered your shoulder socket. It definitely made a fine mess, but we performed a total shoulder arthroplasty.”

  “A what?” He narrowed his eyes at his doctor and then craned his neck to see his shoulder.

  “Basically, we removed the damaged portions of your shoulder joint and replaced the damaged sections with artificial implants.”

  He wiggled the fingers of his injured arm before he asked, “Will I be able to stay on the force?”

  “I don't see a reason why you couldn't. As a captain, you're primarily behind a desk, right?”

  He nodded. For the most part, he was or could be. Fucking hell.

  “How did this happen?” The doc opened a computer and focused on the screen.

  “Drive-by shooting.”

  The doctor stopped and turned to him. “You work the gang task force?”

  “No sir.” He worked JDET, and why the fuck would someone do a drive-by of his house? Fuck, what if Brianna had been there? He screwed his eyes shut tightly. He needed to talk with Theron and King. There had to be something, some reason this happened. One he couldn't produce through the drug-induced haze.

  “You'll be in the hospital for a day or two. Tomorrow, we'll take you to radiology and make sure that joint is being good and staying in position. We’ll immobilize your shoulder for the first portion of rehab. That's to make sure your muscles and tendons have a chance to heal. You can take off the sling to shower or at the instruction of your PT and for no other reason. Otherwise, you'll mess up my work, and I hate going back into someone I've already fixed. Screw this up and I'll make one arm a couple inches shorter than the other.”

  He glanced at the doctor. The man's neck wiggled when he talked, but damn if he didn't believe the guy. Tough little bastard.

  “How long does it take to heal?”

  “I won't blow smoke up your hospital johnnie, this injury is going to take time to mend. Six weeks in the sling, and you and your physical therapist are going to be on a first-name basis, but you’re strong and healthy, you’ll bounce back quickly. Desk duty starting in three weeks, reevaluation after four months. If everything goes well, we can release you to full duty in six months. Some patients can take up to a year to recover fully.”

  �
��I don't have that long.” He needed to be back with his people and out in the field.

  “Then I suggest you follow your PT's exercise and rehab schedule to the T.” The doctor shut the lid on the computer. “I've ordered anti-inflammatory medications and a cold therapy machine which circulates ice water around your joint in a tubing under a pad. It will help with discomfort and swelling.”

  He lost interest in what the doctor was saying the moment he saw her. Tears shimmered in her beautiful blue eyes as she moved forward. He raised his good hand, careful of the IV that skewered the back of his hand.

  “Oh, God.” She took his hand gently and dropped her forehead to his.

  The doctor chuckled and cleared his throat. “And that's my cue to leave. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon after I read the x-rays.”

  Ryker didn't acknowledge the doctor; his entire focus stayed on Brianna. “I'm okay.” He repeated the words over and over as she cried. Her ‘I love you’s and his meshed into soft kisses.

  Finally, she moved away and wiped her tears. “I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't cry.”

  “You can cry, I'm sure it upset you. Who called you?” God, he wanted to hold her next to him.

  “Amber. It was a joint decision between her and Kallie.”

  “It was the right decision.”

  She half-laughed, half-sobbed. “I was so frightened, and then when Fenton...”

  “What?” He watched her face flame. “Brie, what did you do?”

  “I might have told him off.”

  “Good for you.” He closed his eyes for a moment before a thought struck him. “So, Brody knows now?”

  “Ah, yeah. Brody, your entire team, my dad, the Deputy Commissioner, and a couple people I'm pretty sure were here for someone else.”