Destined (The Rangers of Ridge County #1)

Chapter Forty-Nine

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

EMMETT

M illie bolted upright, hyperventilating.

I was reaching for the weapon locked inside my bedside safe when I realized she was caught in a nightmare. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t awake.

She whimpered, causing my heart to splinter. Gathering her in my arms, I held her tight against my body and tried to take slow, deep breaths.

“You’re safe, honey,” I repeated over and over as tremors racked her body.

I kissed her temple and continued to whisper reassuring words into her ear, hoping to drive away whatever sought to darken her dreams.

“I love you,” I murmured into her hair, and she quieted.

She relaxed into me, and I didn’t dare move. Not even hours later as the sun filtered through the curtains. Because this was heaven to me, and I would do anything to keep her demons slayed.

Between Millie’s case and the routine calls the department received on a daily basis, my deputies were swamped. I had taken on some of the evening patrols to help out, but it hadn’t made much of a difference. Most of my team was already pulling overtime.

I was turning onto Peak Street when dispatch came over the radio.

“Available units respond. Disturbance reported at Rowdy’s. Please be advised—caller reported drunk and violent patron.”

Flipping the lights and sirens on, I engaged the radio, “Sheriff en route. ETA two minutes.”

Parking in front of the main entrance, I didn’t notice any obvious disturbances outside. There was a modest line at the door with Greg, a seasoned bouncer, overseeing crowd control. He nodded as I walked up, “Sheriff, Clyde is handling things inside. Says we have a drunkard who’s refusing to pay his tab and causing quite the ruckus.”

“Just another week night, right, Greg?” I smirked with a shake of my head but didn’t wait for his reply. “Better get in there,” I threw over my shoulder as I pushed through the door. Palming the firearm clipped to one side of my belt and the taser on the other, I pushed my way to the bar.

Once there, I flagged down the bartender and asked him to point out the problem patron. Though, it wouldn’t have taken me too long to figure it out myself. Irate yelling was coming from the back hallway and could be heard from where I stood.

All I could see was Clyde’s back as I approached. Yet, I heard plenty.

“That motherfucker stopped serving me!” Frank Bennett yelled. “Told me I was drunk and needed to take a taxi home.” Clyde muttered something under his breath that had Frank flying into a rage. “I told him I wasn’t fucking paying him!” Frank spat, advancing on Clyde. But I made it to them just in time to pull Clyde back and insert myself between the two men.

Make that three men.

Dustin stood a few paces behind Frank, fidgeting and appearing extremely restless.

While this likely wasn’t how Theo planned to bring them in for questioning, I wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity this presented.

“Let’s all just take a deep breath,” I said, extending my hand, gently ushering the Bennetts to the opposite end of the hallway near the alley door. “You two,” I nodded so they knew I was referencing them, “We’re going to have a little chat outside.”

“This is bullshit,” Frank murmured as I nudged them through the door and into the dim alleyway.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Dustin’s shrill voice pierced through the small space as the door clicked shut behind me. I propped myself against it, surveying the men.

The fight drained from Frank as he slumped against the brick wall across from me, his intoxication evident as he started mumbling incoherently. Damn it —he was going to need medical attention.

Pulling at the walkie attached to my vest, I said, “Dispatch. Intoxicated civilian in need of medical attention. Rowdy’s back alley. Backup appreciated.”

My gaze shifted to Dustin who was pulling at his hair as he paced the area. His demeanor was concerning, making me wonder if he’d try to bolt. I moved to block his path as my radio sounded, dispatch responding back to my request, “Sheriff, medical and backup en route.”

Dustin’s wild eyes met mine, and I watched in slow motion as he pulled a small handgun from the waistband of his jeans. Instinctually, I stepped in front of Frank who watched through glazed eyes from where he’d slid to the ground.

“Put the gun down, Dustin,” I commanded evenly.

“I can’t go to jail,” he responded, punching the barrel toward me.

Fuck . This escalated quickly. If I kept him talking until back-up arrived, maybe I could prevent anyone from getting hurt.

“Have you done something worth being put in jail for?” I questioned.

A guilty expression overtook his face but was gone just as fast. His hand trembled around the grip as he extended the gun.

“I’m sorry,” was all I heard before I dove, a distinctive POP echoing into the night air.