Page 12

Ryan

The sound of Erin’s tires screeching as she reverses out of the driveway and takes off down the street only pisses me off even more. I’m in two minds about whether I should go after her and finish this argument, but I know I can’t confront her and make a scene at her school. Even I’m not that much of a dick.

Still, I’m fucking livid and I know it’s got nothing to do with her rant about me getting shot, and everything to do with the key under her mat and the photo I have in my pocket.

I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve gone straight to the station or Beck’s place. But it’s a small town and if Erin had gotten wind of me being up here without me coming to see her first, then all hell would have broken loose. Well, more so than it has already.

Plus, a part of me wanted to see her, see if she recognized what I now know about her. What I hoped she’d be able to admit to me without me having to confront her about it all.

“Shit,”

I mumble as I turn and open the front door. I grab the key she put under the mat and slide it onto my key ring. It’s bad enough she does it in the first place, regardless of how small this town is, but knowing now that she might have some sort of connection to William fucking Fitzgerald and his crew, it makes all of this so much worse.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text.

Me: hey, you at home or the bar? Ok if we have a quick chat?

Beck: you’re here? I’m home, come on over.

I don’t bother responding, just slide my phone into my pocket as I lock the door and head out to my car.

Ten minutes later I’m knocking on Beck and Kelsey’s front door.

“Hey,”

Beck says, opening it immediately.

“Hey.”

“What’s going on?”

he asks, ushering me inside.

“Couldn’t stay away from her, huh?”

I shake my head, scrubbing a hand down my face as exhaustion starts to kick in.

“How much do you know about Erin’s past?”

Beck looks at me strangely before turning and walking in the direction of the kitchen. I follow him wordlessly, taking a seat at the table as he pours me a cup of coffee and then joins me.

“What’s this about?”

he finally asks.

I let out a long breath.

“I’m not sure,”

I confess.

“What do you know?”

Beck shrugs.

“Not much to be honest. I met her way back when she used to vacation here with her family. She and Kels kinda latched onto each other, even though me and Kels were a thing and barely coming up for air back then,”

he says, a small smile on his face as though he’s remembering back.

“Then one day she just showed up here alone and never left,”

he adds.

“That was probably about a month before I fucked up and took off for Boston, I think.”

“And this family she used to come up here with?”

I ask, taking a sip of coffee.

“What do you know about them?”

Beck stares at me.

“What’s this about, Ryan?”

“Did she come up here with her parents?”

I ask, ignoring his question.

Beck takes a long sip of his coffee, his eyes still on me as though he’s trying to work out what the hell is going on here. I know I should just spill it all, but a part of me wonders if he’s been keeping secrets from me too. If maybe he knows more about the woman I’m sleeping with than I do.

“Her mom,”

he eventually says, shrugging.

“I never saw her old man, at least not that I can remember.”

I push out from the table, standing as I start to pace the room and try to put the pieces together. My sleep deprived brain somehow too slow to connect the dots.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if you just told me whatever the fuck it is that’s bothering you right now,”

Beck says.

“I might not be a cop anymore, Ryan, but I am still your friend.”

I take a deep breath as I reach into my trouser pocket and pull out the photo.

“Recognize this guy?”

I ask, sliding the photo on the table, my index finger hovering over the older male.

“Fuck,”

Beck breathes out, long and low.

“Isn’t that Fitzgerald?”

he asks.

“And didn’t I hear he’d been arrested a while back?”

“Yep,”

I exhale.

“It is and he was.”

“And?”

Beck says, glancing up at me, a questioning look on his face.

“And,”

I continue, moving my finger to the person standing next to him in the photo.

“Recognize this person?”

Beck stares at me for a second or two before lowering his eyes to the photo. The second he sees her though I know I haven’t been imagining any of this. The recognition is instant and it’s written all over his face. She’s probably about the age she was when she first started coming up here.

“Holy fuck,”

he whispers. “That's…?”

“Yep,”

I say lifting my hand. “It is.”

“How the fuck is Erin connected to William Fitzgerald?”

he asks, eyes still on the picture as he picks it up now as if to inspect it more closely.

“That’s what I was hoping you could help me with,”

I say as I resume my pacing.

“You ask her?”

I shake my head.

“No, got in a massive argument about this instead,”

I add, gesturing to my arm.

“What’s this?”

Beck asks.

I stop, turn to face him as I shrug and roll up my sleeve to expose the bandaged arm.

“Little accident,”

I say.

“Two nights ago when we had the warehouse takedown. Got a tip about some guns and when we went in, we were ambushed. Caught a stray bullet,” I add.

“Jesus Christ, Ryan, you okay?”

Beck asks.

I nod.

“Yeah, it’s superficial, nothing serious,”

I reply, knowing the bullet Beck was on the receiving end of last year was far worse than this one.

Beck shakes his head a little, as though he too is remembering previous events.

“I’m glad you’re okay, but I gotta say, I can see why Erin would be worried,”

he says.

“And pissed off,” he adds.

I nod.

“I know, okay, I probably should’ve told her or something, but I was too fucking pissed about this,”

I add, gesturing to the photo he’s still holding.

“We found it that night,”

I explain.

“It was in the warehouse, like someone who was there had dropped it and escaped before the shit all hit the fan.”

“Fitzgerald’s crew is connected to the gun thing?”

Beck asks, his cop brain kicking back in as he starts to put all the pieces together.

I nod.

“Yeah, it would seem he’s got some little protégé running things now he’s behind bars,”

I confirm.

“But my bigger worry in all of this, is how Erin’s connected to it all.”

“Shit,”

Beck says on a long exhale.

“I can see why.”

I reach for the coffee, draining my cup in the hopes the caffeine will finally kick in and magically bring all of this into focus. I’ve barely had any sleep the last couple of nights, running on nothing but coffee and adrenaline.

“So, as I said before,”

I continue, placing the now empty cup on the table.

“How much do you know about Erin’s past?”

Beck runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“Like I said, Ryan, I left shortly after she moved here,”

he says.

“I never met her parents and I don’t really know anything much at all.”

“Fuck,”

I breathe out.

“But,”

he says in a way that suddenly has me paying attention.

“I might know someone who does.”

When we walk into the pub, Beck’s dad and brother are already waiting for us. His dad greets me with a warm smile and a handshake, some comment about me practically living here now. Finn on the other hand is more reserved, only giving me a quick nod as he shakes my hand and avoids eye contact, as Beck gestures for us all to sit down.

“So,”

Beck says, hands in front of him on the table, just like he used to do in the interrogation room, as he looks from his dad to his brother to me.

“Ryan’s got a couple of questions for you both,”

he says.

“About Erin.”

“Fuck,”

Finn murmurs, shifting in his seat.

“It was always going to happen,”

Pop says and when I glance at him, I notice he’s talking to Finn, not me.

“What was?”

I ask, my eyes flicking between them.

“Was it?”

Finn says to his dad.

“I thought we assumed it was going to all just blow over.”

Pop shakes his head.

“That was never going to happen,”

he says, scrubbing a hand over his stubble.

“Not with her family. Look at what’s happening right now,”

he adds, shrugging as though none of this is a big deal.

I glance at Beck, see he’s just as confused as I am. Turning back to the other two, I pull out the photo and slam it on the table as I all but shout.

“Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on here?”

Finn’s hands are on the photo immediately, sliding it over so he and his dad can get a look.

“Yeah, it’s him.”

“Yep,”

Pop says, nodding.

“Yeah, I know, it’s Fitzgerald, we know that,”

I say, trying to snatch the photo back.

“What I want to know is, what the fuck Erin is doing in the picture with him?”

Finn lets out a long, low curse, glancing quickly at Beck before he turns to me.

“I really think you need to talk to Erin about all this, Ryan,” he says.

“Yeah, Finn, I plan to,”

I snap.

“But considering how you two seem to know an awful fucking lot about this, why don’t you start talking first?”

“Ryan,”

Pop says as he places his hand in the middle of the table.

“It’s not really our place to say, okay? As a cop, you know that,”

he adds, eyes meeting mine as though he’s trying to convey more than what he’s just said out loud.

“But Fitzgerald,”

he continues, hand moving toward the photo again.

“is not the only connection you need to be worried about.”

I stare back at Pop as I try to work out what he isn’t telling me. He doesn’t blink, just flicks his eyes to the photo. When I finally look down, he taps his finger against it. Only this time, it’s not on Fitzgerald, but on the young guy standing on the other side of Erin. The one who looks like he might be more than just good friends with her.

“What?”

I ask confused.

“Fitzgerald,”

Finn says finally, as he indicates the older guy. “His 2IC,”

he adds, moving his finger toward the younger guy.

“What?”

I ask again, knowing Finn hasn’t just given me something about Erin, he’s also blown the gun thing back in Boston wide fucking open.

“Yeah,”

he says, nodding.

“And her ex.”

By the time Erin’s car pulls into the driveway, I’m pretty sure I’ve worn a patch in her carpet from all my pacing back and forth. I’m also on my fourth beer and if I don’t slow down soon, then between that and the severe lack of sleep, I definitely won’t be in any condition to have this out with her.

The door opens and Erin storms in, throwing her bag against the wall. She glances into the living room as she walks down the hall.

“Good, you’re still here,”

she says as she continues onto the kitchen. Before I even have a chance to respond, she’s back, beer in hand as she kicks off her shoes and stands defiantly in front of me.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck that was this morning?”

she asks.

“Why you didn’t feel the need to tell me you’d been shot, instead getting pissed about something as ridiculous as a fucking key under the fucking mat?”

I down the last of my beer, slamming the bottle on the coffee table.

“You done?”

I ask, hands on hips.

“No,”

she shoots back.

“No?” I repeat.

“No,”

she says again.

“You don’t get to do this, Ryan,”

she continues.

“You don’t get to be that guy that’s all fucking perfect and loving and cupcake-making and dynamite in bed and wants to be all in with me,”

she says, air-quoting the all-in part.

“And not tell me about you taking a bullet and possibly even dying.”

A half laugh escapes me.

“Taking a bullet?”

I ask.

“What the fuck is that? You’ve been watching too many crime shows, Red.”

“Fuck you, Ryan,”

she shouts, taking another swig of beer.

“Did you think I wouldn’t even care?”

she asks, her voice getting louder.

“That it wouldn’t matter to me if you got hurt or fucking…whatever?”

she asks, frustrated as she throws her hands up in the air.

“Oh, you’re a fine one to talk,”

I say, stepping toward her.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

she asks, straightening as I step closer.

“Oh, I don’t know,”

I say, sarcastically.

“The key? Under the doormat? You think that’s safe?”

“For fuck’s sake,”

she says, rolling her eyes.

“It’s the back ass of nowhere here, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“The worst,”

I say, closing the gap between us.

“How about this?”

I add as I shove the photo in her face.

Erin’s eyes flick to the picture and I watch as all the color drains from her face. She swallows hard, immediately downing the rest of her beer before she turns and walks out of the room.

“Don’t you walk away from me,”

I shout, following her.

“Fuck you, Ryan,”

she says as she walks into her bedroom.

I follow her in.

“Tell me what this is, Erin?”

I shout, waving the photo at her back.

“How are you connected to all this?”

Erin ignores me now, instead pulling off her clothes and throwing them in a pile on the floor. When she’s down to her underwear, she stops, as though suddenly remembering I’m in the room.

“Oh don’t stop on my account,”

I say, my words dripping with sarcasm.

She storms out again only to return a few seconds later, now holding a gun. She’s careful with it, holding it so the barrel is pointed at the floor. I can see the safety is still on but it doesn’t stop me from losing what little amount of self-control I had left.

“You have a fucking gun?”

I shout, ready to explode.

“What the fuck do you need a gun for?”

“Get out,”

she says, her words strangely calm.

“Erin,”

I say, stepping toward her, hands up as though I’m conceding.

“Give me the gun.”

She shakes her head, never taking her eyes off me.

“I’m not going to say it again,”

I say, taking another step closer as I lower my hands and slowly move toward hers.

“If you don’t give me that gun right now, you are in serious trouble.”

I reach for it, just as she shakes her head and mumbles.

“Fuck you, Ryan as if you even give a shit.”

It takes only a second for me to disarm her, years of police training no match for her likely country club membership. The second the gun is in my hands, I’ve released the mag and emptied the round in the chamber, putting all of the pieces in the top drawer of her dresser.

“Erin…”

I start, at the same time as she says.

“He’s my father.”

I freeze, unsure if I’ve heard clearly.

“What the fuck did you say?”

Erin slams her hands on my chest now as she pushes up on her toes and gets right up in my face.

“He’s my fucking father, Ryan. He’s everything I’ve tried to escape from and the reason I hide out in this town. He’s a fucking nightmare and he scares the shit out of me, okay?”

Her words are rushed, forced out of her as though now she’s allowed herself to voice them there’s no stopping any of it. As I stare down at her, her eyes wild and cheeks flushed, I suddenly get hit with a hard dose of reality.

“Motherfucker,”

is all I can say before I slam my mouth hard against hers.

Erin grabs my shirt, pulling me closer as she kisses me back equally hard. My arms slide around her waist, hauling her body against mine as I walk us backward. When her legs hit the bed, I slide my hands roughly up her body, yanking off her bra. Erin gasps as I push her back onto the bed now, her face still flushed as I step between her legs and start to unbutton my shirt.

Her eyes flick to the bandage on my arm, her mouth opening with a question I don’t give her time to ask.

“Not the time, Red,”

I say, shoving my pants down. I stand naked between her legs now, my dick hard and throbbing with want. Erin’s chest is heaving, the flush slowly spreading to her breasts.

I lean over and suck a nipple into my mouth, biting down hard as my fingers slide into the side of her panties and rip them right off her.

“Fuck,”

she gasps, her body bowing off the bed.

I release her nipple, biting the side of her breast before I move to the other side, repeating the action with her other nipple.

“Ryan,”

she pants, widening her legs.

I hook my arms under her thighs, lifting her hips off the bed as I pull her pussy to my mouth. Erin lets out a loud moan as I suck hard on her clit, her quick orgasm all but contorting her body in my arms.

“Ryan, please,”

she begs now.

But I don’t relent, ignoring her pleas as I work my tongue over her hot, wet center. I’m not in the mood for soft and gentle. Right now I need to fuck her hard and fast.

I suck her clit again, nibbling with my teeth until she starts to come again. As soon as she’s finished, I lower her hips so she’s lined up perfectly before I drive my cock right into her.

The groan that falls from her nearly undoes me, her hands fisting the duvet as she locks her legs around my waist, digging her heels into my ass.

“Easy, Red,” I warn.

“Shut up and fuck me, Ryan,”

she half screams back at me.

I grunt my consent, my fingers grabbing her hips, digging into her skin as I start to work her body against mine, pounding into her, relentlessly. Erin’s body is covered in sweat, her skin glistening beneath me, as her tits move with my thrusts, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she begs me to keep going.

I don’t know how long we fuck for, but eventually I can’t hold out any longer, my hands bruising her skin now as I hitch her higher, pull her harder against me and push into her one last time before exploding inside her.

“Fuck,”

I groan, holding her to me, my dick twitching inside her as all of my frustration and anger and helplessness is released.

“Holy shit,”

she murmurs, still digging her heels in as she now pulls me on top of her.

I collapse against her, both of us moaning. I can feel the hard beat of her heart beneath me, pounding against her chest and mine. I bury my face against her neck, my teeth finding her skin, where they bite down hard in frustration.

“Red,”

I say, grazing my teeth against her skin and the mark I’ve now left there.

“Yeah,”

she whispers, her nails digging into my back as though she wants more.

I pull back, pushing up on my arms so I can look down at her.

“We need to talk.”