Chapter 14 The Stepfather’s Fist
Ryan
"Don't move." Hawley's command came tight and sharp as he crouched beside me. One hand hovered over my shoulder. The other was already reaching for his radio.
I tried to speak. Tried to tell him I was fine. Only managed a pained wheeze. My ribs screamed with each shallow breath.
"I said don't move." The steel in his tone left no room for argument. His palm finally landed on my jacket. Surprisingly gentle, despite the rigid posture. "Backup is on the way."
Through the haze of pain, I noticed his fingers trembling. Just a momentary quiver before he steadied them. Those dark eyes scanned me. Cataloged injuries. Something else lurked under the assessment. Something I'd never seen from him before.
Concern. Not just professional. Real worry.
"It's just a fall." The words came out as a gasp. "I'm okay."
His grip firmed, anchoring me in place. "You're not okay. You could have internal injuries." Something wavered under his control. Almost like anger. "What were you thinking?"
I blinked rain from my vision. The intensity coming off him made no sense. "The kid was falling. I just..."
"You could have killed yourself." The accusation cut through the air between us.
"I'm fine." I pushed upright through the stab in my side. The world tilted, then steadied. I refused to show weakness in front of Min, who watched me from the bottom of the ladder. Pupils wide. Frightened.
Hawley's gaze swept over me. Each wince. Each careful movement. A muscle worked in his cheek as he ran the inventory. He turned without a word and helped Min off the ladder. His fingers were firm but gentle on the boy's shoulder.
"You okay?" Softer than I'd ever heard from him.
Min nodded. His attention darted between us and the laneway entrance. "I'm sorry about..." He gestured vaguely toward me.
"Not your fault." I forced what was probably more grimace than smile. Straightened my jacket. Tried to ignore the throb in my ribs and left wrist. "Just a bad landing because I'm a complete idiot."
The teen drifted to my side. Like a small animal seeking warmth. His thin frame trembled with cold and adrenaline. In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder as backup approached.
"Your mother will be here soon." I kept my injured arm pressed against my torso. Set my good palm on his shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay now."
Hawley was already speaking into his radio. Tone clipped. Professional. I caught fragments. Missing juvenile recovered. Medical assistance. Family notification. His attention never left us. Constantly scanning. Assessing. Protecting.
"What if he doesn't let her come?" Min's question came out small. Uncertain. "My stepdad, I mean."
"That's not how this works. We've found you safe. Which means we call the shots now."
Tires shrieked against wet pavement. A car door slammed. Heavy footsteps and a man bellowing through the laneway. "Where is he? Where's my stepson?"
Min's fingers dug into my jacket. His body tensed like a cornered animal. "That's him." Fear sharpened each syllable.
Hawley moved fast. He positioned himself between the approaching figure and us. The shift was subtle but unmistakable. Casual to combat-ready. Weight balanced. Palms loose at his sides. Every muscle alert. I'd seen this at the boxing club. Right before he'd demolished his opponent.
"Sir, this is now a police matter involving a minor's welfare." Low but carrying clearly. "Step back and lower your voice."
The stepfather came into view. Heavyset. Bloodshot pupils. Alcohol heavy on his breath. He stumbled slightly as he approached. Pointed an accusatory finger first at Hawley, then at Min.
"You called the cops on me?" He ignored Hawley completely and tried to push past to reach the boy. "That little shit has my wife worried sick! Get over here!"
Min shrank against me. His nails dug deeper into my jacket. The fear coming off him was a living thing between us. I made a split-second decision. Pushed him behind me despite the flare of agony through my ribs.
"Sir, you need to calm down." I fought to keep my voice steady. "Your stepson is safe. But he's coming with us to the station."
The bloodshot pupils narrowed. Focused on me with sudden, dangerous clarity. "You don't tell me what to do with my kid. This is family business. Stay out of it."
"Abuse isn't family business." The words escaped before I could stop them. "It's criminal."
Rage twisted his features. "The fuck did you just say to me?" He lunged, fist raised. I braced. Angled my body to shield Min. The blow never landed.
Hawley stepped between us with fluid precision. He took the punch across his jaw with minimal reaction. Just a slight turn of his head. A soft exhale. Then he locked the man's arm in a controlled hold that brought him to his knees with a startled yelp.
"Assaulting a police officer. That's a serious charge."
The man struggled. Face reddening with effort and fury. "Get your hands off me! I know people. I'll have your badge for this!"
No response to the threat. No acknowledgment. Hawley simply adjusted his grip, drawing a gasp of pain.
"You're under arrest." He recited rights methodically, like reading from a script. His features were impassive. But something flickered through his focus. A cold, controlled fury that made me grateful he was on our side.
Backup arrived in a blur of flashing lights and uniforms. Two patrol officers took custody of the stepfather. He kept hurling threats and obscenities as they led him away. An ambulance pulled up behind them, lights painting the laneway walls in pulses of red and white.
Through it all, Min stayed pressed against my side. Watching with a mixture of terror and disbelief as his tormentor was placed in the back of a patrol car.
"Is he really going to jail?" Barely audible.
"For now. And we'll make sure you and your mom are somewhere safe before he gets out."
Hawley approached. Rubbed his jaw absently where the punch had landed. A bruise was already forming. A dark smudge along his jawline.
"You okay?" Real concern colored my question. The hit had been solid. I'd heard the impact from where I stood.
A single nod. Dismissive. "Fine." His attention shifted to Min. "Your mother is on her way to the station. Constable Reid will take you there now."
The teen tensed beside me. "Can't Carlson... can't he come too?"
Hawley's gaze flicked to me. Then to the paramedics waiting by the ambulance. "Carlson needs medical attention."
"I'm fine." The protest was automatic. The throb had ramped up to a steady, stabbing ache with each breath.
His face hardened. "You fell from a ladder. You're getting checked out."
"I just need some ice and..."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Min looked up at me. Concern in his young features. "You should go to the hospital. I'll be okay."
I hesitated. Torn between wanting to see this through and the agony radiating through my torso. "You sure?"
A small smile ghosted across his face. "Yeah. You already did the hard part."
Constable Reid approached. His expression gentle as he introduced himself to Min. "Ready to go see your mom?" He extended a palm.
The teen took it after a moment's hesitation. Before leaving, he turned back to me. "Thank you. For believing me."
I watched them walk away. Something tight and unexpected squeezed in my chest. Only when they disappeared into the patrol car did I let myself slump. Adrenaline fading. Pain rushing in to fill the void.
"You need to get that checked. Now."
I straightened. Winced. "It's just bruised ribs. Nothing they can do anyway."
"You don't know that. Could be broken. Could be internal bleeding."
"Since when are you so concerned about my well-being?" Trying for lightness. Hearing the strain in my own tone.
His features stayed impassive. But something moved through his focus. Frustration, maybe. Or something deeper I couldn't name.
"Since you became my responsibility."
"Your responsibility." I couldn't keep the bitterness out. "Right. The program. Can't have me dying under your watch. Bad for the paperwork."
I regretted the words the second they were out. Hawley's face didn't change. But something in his posture did. A slight stiffening. A drawing inward.
"That's not..." He stopped himself. His jaw worked for a moment. Then he continued, carefully neutral. "The paramedics are waiting."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked toward the ambulance. Spoke briefly to one of the EMTs, who nodded and headed in my direction. I watched his retreating back. Wondered what he'd been about to say.
The paramedic approached with a professional smile. "Let's take a look at those ribs."
I submitted to the examination. Winced as gentle fingers probed the tender area.
The whole time, I kept watching Hawley. He stood a few meters away, speaking into his radio.
Back to me. Shoulders rigid. I couldn't shake the memory of his expression when I'd fallen.
That flash of raw concern, then nothing.
For a man who prided himself on emotional control, it had been quite a tell.
He cares.
The thought arrived plain and unwelcome. I wasn't ready for what it meant.
"Definitely bruised. Possibly cracked. We should transport you for X-rays to be sure."
I started to protest. But Hawley was suddenly beside us again, his call finished.
"He'll go." Answering for me. Challenging me to argue.
For once, I didn't have the energy for a fight. "Fine." I let the paramedics help me toward the ambulance. "But this is unnecessary."
Hawley followed. "I'll meet you at the hospital after I finish up here."
I paused. Surprised. "You don't have to do that."
"I know." A moment held longer than necessary. His eyes on mine, the alley lights painting one side of his face red, the other white. "I'll be there."