Page 45 of The Heat is On
His head still rang. The inopportune kick from March just as Rio had been lunging in to help Archer had probably cracked his jaw, maybe even given him a concussion, especially when added to the blow March had given him to his head.
Yes, but for the scream he might still be in the dirt. High-pitched and terrified, it galvanized him off the ground, and he went to his knees, searching for Skye.
He spotted her perched on a boulder in the river, out of the water.
Safe.
Downstream.
And then, “US marshals!”
The voice came from the bridge, and he’d whirled around to see Stevie, the overzealous marshal, pointing a gun at March. Finally, the right target.
“You’re surrounded! Let him go!”
Rio glanced again at Skye, and in a dark flash he realized—Darryl had made a run for it, and if Rio got apprehended, it would be hours, maybe days before they sorted out Rio’s identity.
And Darryl would be in the wind—Buttles along with him.
Another quick look at Skye—she was perched safely on the rock—and Rio turned his back on Skye and sprinted down the path where he’d seen Darryl disappear.
It wasn’t hard to find him. The man still bled. Dark red blood splotched the path, and sure, Rio’s head hurt so bad he thought he might retch, but he kept running and caught up to Darryl less than a half mile away.
Darryl spotted him with a look of horror over his shoulder, and Rio didn’t slow. Just ran him down, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him to a hard stop.
Then, because he was breathing hard and didn’t want Darryl to nick him again with a stone or an elbow or something that could finally take him down, he shoved Darryl into a nearby birch tree, twisting his arm behind his back in a submission hold.
Got his face up close to Darryl’s ear. “Going somewhere?”
“You said I could find my wife!”
Really?Wow.“You gave me up to March. I think our deal is off!”
“Then I’m not testifying. You getnothin’from me.” As if for emphasis, he spat at Rio’s feet.
Rio fought to keep the world from spinning—and from letting go of the desperate grip on his self-control.
Because more than anything, he wanted to take out his fury on this jerk who trafficked women, who had hit him, and sold him out to March—
And yeah, he knew his frustration had a lot more to do with the fact Skye was probably hypothermic right now, but he hadn’t known what else to do.
In short, he’d panicked.
Led with his emotions, again.
“Oh, you’re going to talk,” Rio said darkly. “Maybe not testify, but I promise, I will find out what I want to know from you.”
Yeah, any doubt that Rio might not be a criminal died with his tone, the way his voice turned to steel. “I’m going to do to you exactly what you do to every girl who you transport. Tie you up, lock you in a cage, and never let you go.”
Darryl went silent. Then, quietly, his shoulders began to tremble, his breaths washboarding out.
What—? Was hecrying?
Rio held in a dark word, then eased off the man. Stepped back, keen to any fast movements.
“I just want to see my wife. I—” Darryl turned, and for Pete’s sake, tears cut down the man’s face. “I’m an idiot—I know it. The first time I drove for Buttles, it was television sets and stolen stuff, and I just…I thought…I needed the money. I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody. I just…I love Alicia and I wanted to take care of her. I didn’t know I was transporting girls until…” He closed his eyes. “I heard them crying when I stopped at a truck stop. I’d been told never to open the truck, but I did, and they were all lined up in crates, most of them drugged, but a few of them were really sick and…I didn’t know what to do.”
“You call the cops.”