Page 38 of The Heat is On
No one would live through this escape if March had his way.
Fine. Rio met his eyes, unmoving.Let’s go, March.He put the words into his eyes.I’m ready.
Except, he wasn’t, not really. Because yes, he’d give his life willingly for Skye, had been prepared, theoretically, to let it go when he agreed to this job.
But in truth, Skye’s words had dug inside him.There’s still light inside you, Rio. Nothing can separate you from the love of God.
He’d heard that before, knew it in his head, but he wasn’t blind to the choices he’d made. The darkness he’d let inside. So much darkness.
Whatever light Skye had seen, Rio couldn’t see it. Couldn’t feel it.
Separated from God. He’d never felt the gulf more acutely than when March met his eyes, his hand bruising Skye’s arm.
“She stays near me,” March said, but he let her go.
Only then did Rio feel Archer’s hand slip away from him.
Skye held out her hand as if it belonged to Rio, and he grabbed it, held tight. And just the look in her eyes, so much relief—maybe that was all the light he needed.
For the moment.
But as he pushed her out in front of him down the trail, as the light began to dew the forest, his own words to Skye pushed up through him.Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.
But how could God be close to someone who willingly carried darkness, willingly stepped into the skin of…well, frankly, it had stopped feeling like a skin a long time ago.
And he was sick of it. “You know you’re going to get caught, right, March?”
“You, along with me, pal.”
Oh yeah, March didn’t yet know—
“He’s FBI, March. He can get us all out of this.” Darryl had turned, his gaze hard on Rio before he glanced to March. “He could be our hostage.”
What the—? “Clearly, you want to die, Darryl,” Rio snapped, his fury taking over. “Because you go back into prison without my protection, and Buttles is going to find you!”
“Not if I don’t testify against him!” Darryl had stopped, his hand clutching his arm. “You don’t know Buttles. He won’t just kill me, but my whole family.”
“We’ll get him first,” Rio said, but he stopped when March’s gun hit the back of his spine.
Rio raised his arms. Shoot.
“No, you won’t. You’ll never get Buttles. He’s—he’s lived througheverything.Numerous assassination attempts. One of the rival gangs got a hold of him and carved up his face, and hestillgot away. Went back and murdered every single one of them. Didn’t even bother to get plastic surgery—he just wears this wicked scar on his face to remind everybody that he can’t be killed.”
March clamped a hand on Rio’s shoulder. “FBI. I should have guessed. There was just something about you, from the first. A real do-gooder.”
“You hurt Skye and I’ll show you just how bad I can be.”
March leaned forward, his feral breath on Rio’s face. “Oh, Skye and I have a beautiful future ahead.”
Rio jerked his head back, hoping to hit March, but March pushed him away. “I should drop you right here.”
Rio rounded on him. “Do it!”
And maybe March would have if Skye hadn’t screamed, hadn’t stepped up behind Rio and locked her arms around him, wedging herself between him and the gun, just like he’d done for her on the mountain.
“Don’t—just—I’ll go with you. Leave him alone!”
Rio grabbed her arms, wanting to tear her away from him, but she had the grip of a warrior—probably all those hours fighting fires, swinging a Pulaski. “Let him be, and I’ll go with you.”