Finding His Match

I wrote Finding His Match largely because readers asked for Rory’s story. He appeared in the other Big 3 Security books and readers asked what his background was; why wasn’t he married? Maybe he should be married? Let’s get him married.

So, Detective Rory Richards got his story. And, it’s a second chance for Rory and Alice. They’d been lovers in the past while both in the military. Alice left for a promotion and Rory promised to stay in touch. – He didn’t. And, Alice was too proud to chase him down. She didn’t realize he was trying to drink her away. Silly girl.

Anyway, life happens and things happen and as it turns out, it just wasn’t their time the first time, but this second time around? Oh, now it is their chance.

I’ve included the first chapter for you in this post so you can meet Rory and Alice. Enjoy it, they’re a great couple.

Finding His Match, Chapter 1

Driving through the eastern side of town, dog-ass tired and ready for bed, Rory glanced over at the gas station parking lot as he neared the intersection. Suspicious of what looked like a drug deal going down, he quickly turned into the lot directing his headlights at two men exchanging a tiny bag for money.

Stopping, close to the men near the convenience store, Rory exited his vehicle and began walking toward them when they took off running in different directions. Choosing to follow the man who’d taken the money, he kept pace the best he could; but he was losing ground to the spry, lanky drug dealer, who was likely scared and surely not interested in spending the night in jail.

He was likely a low-level dealer, but with enough pressure sometimes these guys gave up a higher-up or two.

A gunshot rang out, then another. Diving behind a dumpster, which provided some cover, but likely not enough, he glanced around the side in the direction of the shots. His heartbeat quickened, but luckily his senses seemed to intensify as the adrenaline pumped through his body.

Seeing the flash of dark clothing duck behind the Longstone Apartment building before him, he crouched low and squat-walked to the side of the building, then slowly moved in the direction of his perp. His gun was out and pointed before him, when his ears heard a slight crunching of feet on gravel. Slowly raising himself up, he pointed his gun toward the corner of the building and sent up a quick prayer to be spot-on today. No accidents.

A gunshot sounded, and a bullet hit the building about a foot above his head from the direction his perp had run. Quickly dropping to the ground, he slowly let out a breath, inhaled again and scrambled to the edge of the second apartment building, adjacent to Longstone, which he thought was the direction of the shot.

Standing quickly and twisting his body so he was leading with his right hand holding his gun, he moved around the building, the brick walls scratching his back as he hovered close.

Movement from the shadows just a couple of feet in front of him and a flash of metal aimed at his head had him leveling his gun back at this new target.

“DEA.” She half-whispered, half-yelled. Her voice was tight, her emotions likely as high as his.

“Lynyrd Station PD.” He responded. Then wondered where in the hell a DEA Special Agent had come from and why. Lynyrd Station PD didn’t have the luxury of a DEA agent’s help.

They stood for a few seconds, each assessing the other, guns leveled on the other, emotions still high.

She stepped into the sliver of light that shone from the overhead streetlights and he damned near dropped his weapon. Familiar eyes stared back at him, the hypnotic green he remembered from years ago. Before he’d left the Marines. Before he’d been married to Debra.

He watched those mesmerizing eyes change as she recognized him, then worried that the emotion he saw in them was more hatred than friendliness or happiness, his heart hammered once more in his chest.

“Beggs, what the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I’m chasing a lead, the same as you I suspect.”

A bullet hit the corner of the building they now stood alongside of and pieces of brick rained down on him. His instinct to protect took over and he wrapped his arm around Beggs and shoved her against the wall, shielding her with his body.

He turned then to give chase, but Beggs shoved him out of the way. “Asshole.”

Then she took off running to yet another apartment building across the alley, small expanse of lawn which served as the apartment complexes’ green space and was surrounded by four three story apartment buildings, then she disappeared under the stairwell. Giving pursuit he followed in her wake but was met with more shooting then nothing but silence. Hiding under a stairwell, trying to catch his breath, and forcing his brain to catch up with events, he slightly shook his head and listened. Nothing.

Venturing out from his hiding spot he looked around for Beggs but didn’t see the direction she’d gone or the perp they’d been following after the last shot. Ugly doubts crawled through his brain that he was ineffective at his job as he heaved himself off the wall he’d pressed himself against and quietly turned the corner, which led him back to the gas station where it’d all began this evening.

A cruiser had pulled up behind his car, and another was just now racing toward the station. Recognizing the officer interviewing two witnesses he walked toward them, all the while chastising himself for getting a tad out of shape and unable to chase a doper, even though he was only 42 now. The guys would likely have a bit of fun with him this week, but that he could take, he’d given his share over the years.

“Richards.” One of the newly arrived officers, Anderson Tyler, walked toward him, his strides long and his gait determined.

“Ty, what do you have?”

“Calls coming into the station, gunshots hitting buildings, tenants in the apartments are scared and sick of the crime, the station is going nuts. Then someone calls in your plates and says they saw you running after someone. Needless to say, the Captain isn’t happy; you went in without backup and we have more unhappy citizens. What do you have?”

He took a deep breath and looked into Ty’s tired eyes. They’d all been putting in sixty to eighty hours a week recently and it was taking its toll on all of them.

“I came into the parking lot because I was pretty sure I saw a drug deal going down. Took off on foot to chase the dealer and ran into a DEA Special Agent. Anything at the station on that?”

The big man shook his head. He was easily six foot two or more, but his broad shoulders and massive arms made him appear larger than life.

“Nothing. Ask the Captain. ” He pointed to the other officer, Jerry Robards, and said, “I’ll go help Jerry interview witnesses. The Captain wants to see you.”

“Yeah. I bet he does.”

He let out a long breath and dragged his sorry, tired ass to his car. Captain Jason Peters was a great boss, low key, knowledgeable and easy to deal with. Unless he was pissed off. Then, he could chew on your ass for hours and not show signs of getting tired. Rory feared that’s what was about to happen, and quite frankly, he was too fucking exhausted to have his ass chewed on. It was a recipe for disaster. And where in the fuck did Beggs go? That was something he’d not been able to wrap his mind around and he didn’t know how to get in touch with her, either. But she’d said, DEA, so he would start with the Chicago DEA Division. Indiana was one of three states in that Division. To be here she likely was stationed at a DEA Office in one of them.

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