“You found them.”
“I did.” He sighed. “And I was young and stupid and angry, and there were three of them. I had a baseball bat, but… Well, the short of it was that I ended up in the hospital, fighting for my life. But one of the guys I’d hit died, so after I lived, they shipped me off to juvie. I had a lenient judge who took in my mental state, but I did a year there.”
He met her eyes then, waiting for judgment, but hers had turned glossy.
Shoot. This was why he didn’t let the past out to roam because…well, it made him feel human and breakable and sometimes even…well, that he might deserve a woman like Skye in his life.
And of course, she said exactly the wrong thing. “I’m so sorry, Rio.”
He tightened his jaw, nodded.
“But you’re still not him.” She gestured to March, relentlessly pacing in front of the Bronco. “And desperation causes us to do stupid things. I told you my dad was in prison, right?”
He nodded, his gaze half on her, half on March by the Bronco. Something—
“He was actually an FBI informant for a drug smuggling ring out of this bar he visited, but…he got caught up in the sting and went to prison anyway.”
Rio’s gaze landed on her then. “What—?”
“Yeah. There were a lot of broken promises. And mistakes. He trusted the wrong people.”
Skye, you can trust me—the words were gathering when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a flash of light, maybe the glint of a gun barrel.
He glanced at Archer, who was finishing off the other MRE, sitting on a stump. He reminded Rio a little of the detective who’d spoken up for him at the trial. No nonsense, but compassionate.
Especially when Archer looked up and met Rio’s eyes, then glanced at Skye. He tilted his head to the side, as if suggesting…
Yes. If there was ever a time to run, it was now, deep into the shadows of the woods, with night descending. March would be torn between the truck and his captives.
He’d noticed that Thorne might be thinking the same thing, because he had leaned away from the Bronco, an eye on March.
Rio’s gut pinpointed the man as former military.
Which meant he could take care of himself. As could Archer. As for Darryl, well—Rio’s face still hurt where the man hit him.
Rio’s hand tightened on Skye’s, quick. “We’re going to run.”
She shot him a look, something of fear in it.
“Stay with me. Nothing will happen to you as long as you’re with me.”
March glanced their direction, and Rio let her hand go.
Behind him, fire lit a trail through the twilight as a torch arched into the night, almost in slow motion. It spit out flames as it landed in the piney loam beyond the Bronco, the resin fueling a quick inferno.
The torch had come from the woodpile. March guessed the same and leveled his gun at the firewood.
Rio grabbed Skye, yanking her to her feet. “Now!”
Except that’s when the US marshal leaped from a trio of birch some twenty feet away from the pile, double gripping her gun. “March. Put the gun down.”
Stevie?
March whirled around and sent a shot at the woman.
She dove into the earth.
Skye screamed.
And Rio wasn’t sticking around.
He launched himself off the porch, Skye’s hand in his grip, and skidded away from the house, opposite the truck. Skye kept up, nearly passing him.
Good girl.
The marshal might have screamed at him to stop, but Rio didn’t even slow. He plunged into the woods, running hard, slapping away brush, branches, nearly tripping over downed, rotted trees.
Behind him, more shots reported.
He could care less about Darryl. Sorry, but—
“Rio—stop. Stop!”
Skye yanked him hard, and he stopped, whirling around.
“We gotta go!”
“I think that’s Tucker back there. I heard his name!”
He just stared at her. “No—no. Listen—no. March is a murderer and a rapist. And…I’m not letting what happened to Aggie happen to you.”
“Aggie. Your sister.”
“Yeah. And March is just like the guys who killed her. He’s a…he’s an animal, Skye. And I’d die before I’d let him touch you.”
Her eyes widened. And in the midnight sunlit forest, they turned rich and shiny and found the way to his bones, turning them to fire. “Who are you?” she whispered.
He shook his head, half an answer, half a warning, because he saw her intentions—probably relief, maybe a little gratitude, plenty of undeserved hero worship—gather on her face a second before she stepped up and kissed him. A full-on, solid kiss that turned him stock-still. His breath caught, just his heart beating—no, thundering—in his chest.
She held his face in her hands, her lips sweet against his, and he just stood there like an idiot.
Until she moved away, still holding his face, her thumbs drawing down over his beard.
He searched her eyes. “What was that for?”
She bit her lower lip, a sudden flash of fear in her eyes. Well, good. The woman shouldn’t be kissing…well, anyone. But especially not him.
Except, he hadn’t done anything to stop her, had he?
“I don’t know,” she said. “It just…it just felt right.”
Oh boy. Because yes. Yes it did.
She gave a tentative smile.
And he couldn’t stop himself. Really, they should keep running, full out, but his brain simply shut down on that smile. With a groan he wrapped his arms around her waist and his mouth came down on hers, almost fierce in his possession of her. She tasted of the outdoors, of smoke and fire, and she looped her arms around his neck, her body drawn against his.
Skye.
He had lost his mind, but he let impulses take over, not caring. Blissfully not caring for once in his miserable life. He backed her against a tree, pulling her up onto the roots, and it leveraged her face even with his, allowed him to deepen his kiss, to taste her, and forget, just for a moment, that he was a criminal and she was…well, yes, his hostage, if he were to go back to the beginning of the day.
But in truth, she could take him captive, right here, and he’d go willingly.
He broke away from her, breathing hard. “Skye—I…” And there it was again. The truth, scrabbling to be set free. He took a breath. “I’m not who I said I was.”
“A kidnapper? I didn’t think so.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “No, I—”
“Parker, help! Help me!”
Rio jerked away from her as Darryl ran toward him. Blood flowed down his arm where he held a hand over a wound.
“What the—” Rio caught Darryl just as the man stumbled.
“I’m shot.” Darryl sank onto the ground, breathing hard, clearly in pain. “You gotta help me, man.”
“Yeah, uh. Why—so you can take another whack at me, finish the job? I…don’t think so, pal.” Rio wasn’t sure if he’d meant it or not, frankly. Front in his mind was getting Skye away and back to safety as fast as he could.
He turned to do just that, but Darryl grabbed him by the cuff of his pants. “I know who you are, man. I know you’re supposed to keep me safe, okay? You get me out of here, and I’ll do it.”
Rio stared down at Darryl, his pale face stark against his red hair. Blood oozed between his fingers, dissecting his words. He knew…what—?
But Rio cut to the chase. “What will you do?”
“I’ll tell you where to find Buttles. And I’ll testify against him. Just like you want.”
His mouth opened. He glanced at Skye, who was frowning at Darryl.
“C’mon, man. I know you were sent in to get me to talk. I know you’re FBI.”
“You’re…you’re an FBI agent?”
Skye stared down at the bleeding man, then back to Rio, the stricken but fierce expression of half anger, half determination o
n his face and…yes. Of course he was. It all made sense—the way he’d warned her to stay away from him and the rest of the prisoners. His courage when he stepped in front of March’s gun. His crazy escape attempt in the woods, and even…even the fact that he hadn’t kissed her—not right away.
And even her own brain had been firing warning shots because what on earth had possessed her to kiss a man she barely knew? A criminal, for that matter—except, yes…see, deep in her gut she knew he was different.
Especially when, as she kissed him, he seemed to step out of the tight fist he held around himself and just let himself go. Kissed her like he needed her, as if she might be a drink of water to a dying man. And the way he’d pinned her against the tree, held her there—talk about hostage. But she’d never felt safer in her life.
More, she’d never been kissed like that before.
Her entire body still simmered from his touch.
Yes, he was a dangerous, very dangerous…good guy?
She backed away from him, her arms around herself.
“What—would you rather I be a prisoner?”
“No! Of course not. I’m…relieved. I’m just…” FBI. “You lied to me.”
Rio reached for her, but she held up her hand.
“I was undercover.” Then his expression softened. “Okay, yes, I heard what you said about your dad. And we will talk about that, and how sorry I am that…well, whatever happened. But I knew that if March knew I was FBI he’ll kill me on the spot. And I couldn’t risk what he then might do to you.”
She drew in a breath.
“I’m sorry, Skye. Really. I didn’t want to lie to you, but…” He looked at her, and the expression of regret tempered her anger. “I thought it was safer. I still think it’s safer if everyone thinks I’m one of the bad guys. But we can argue about it later. Right now, I have to figure out how badly Darryl is hurt. And if it’s safe to go back to the camp—”
“It’s not,” Darryl said. “The marshal is there—with that fire boss, Tucker. I don’t know if they have March or not. He freaked out. I saw him hit that smokejumper pretty hard. He was down—he might be dead. And then—and then March strangled the US marshal.”
Skye couldn’t move. He might be dead.
Her body went liquid, but Rio was right there, grabbing her shoulders, holding her up. “Skye—listen. We don’t know that Tucker’s dead.”
Right. Right. She clenched her jaw, trying to scrabble up through the scream forming inside.
“Stay with me. We’re going to get out of this, I promise.”
Nothing will happen to you as long as you’re with me.
His words at the cabin surged through her. She met his eyes turning molten in the setting sun. Nodded.
“That’s my girl.” He let her go and crouched next to Darryl. “Yes, you will testify.” He moved Darryl’s hand away from his wound. “Let’s take a look.”
That’s my girl. She didn’t know what to do with those words. However, she did know what to do about Darryl.
“I have first aid training,” she said as she knelt next to Rio and examined the wound. “We need to get his shirt off.” She opened Darryl’s shirt and eased it over and off his wounded arm. The blood poured through a tiny hole in the front of his arm. She moved around to the back and found a jagged tear also seeping blood. “There’s an exit wound here. I’m not sure if there are any broken bones, but we need pressure to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down.”
Rio took the arm of Darryl’s shirt and ripped it right off from the shoulder.
“That’ll work,” she said. “Hold his arm out while I wrap it.”
He took hold of Darryl’s arm at the elbow, and the man groaned. She wrapped the wound quickly, tying it tight. Darryl looked like he might pass out. Shock.
“We need to get him someplace where he can rest.”
“We’re not going back to the cabin,” Rio said. His gaze was on the sky, and she followed it. “It could be on fire.”
A plume of black smoke had risen over the trees.
And Tucker could be there, hurting, maybe unconscious. “I have to go back for Tucker.” She got up, but Rio’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“If he’s dead, then you will be too.” He said it low and with lethal truth.
She stared at him in cold horror. “He can’t die because of me.”
Rio’s mouth tightened and then he swallowed and pulled her against himself. Locking those arms around her, as if afraid she might flee. His voice came down beside her ear, soft, a caress to her fraying edge of control. “I’m sorry. I liked him.”
She closed her eyes, turning into him, letting herself sink against his strength, smelling the woods and the exertion of the day on his skin.
“We need to get Darryl to safety,” Rio said softly. “Or all of this is for nothing.”
She pushed away from him, the words a knot in her head. “Why? What is so important about Darryl?” Because yes, she’d been very ready to leave him in the woods.
Rio glanced down at the man, then back to her. “Because Darryl works for a man named Wayne Buttles. He’s the northern head of a human trafficking and drug smuggling operation. If we can get Buttles, then we can shut down his entire Alaskan operation.”
“I’m just a truck driver—” Darryl said, but his voice emerged small and whiny.
“No, you’re not. You know the routes, the places where his cargo originates. You know where the pickup point is for girls coming from the Lower 48 and where you drop off the Russian girls. You’re the last one to see them before they disappear forever.”
Rio’s tone had gotten decidedly darker as he spoke, and now he reached down and grabbed Darryl by his good arm, hauling him to his feet. “You bet you’re talking. I want every last detail of Buttles’s transportation details.”
“He’ll kill me,” Darryl said, and by the look on his face, it wasn’t just a threat.
“Maybe. But your life isn’t worth the girls you’re enslaving.”
Oh. And she got it—why Rio would stick himself in a prison, enduring the humiliations. Because…Aggie. Except, wait—
“Was Aggie real? Or was that…part of your cover?”
Rio looked at her, and she flinched at the glistening in his eyes, the emotion that had clearly boiled over during his fury at Darryl. He considered her a moment.
“Yeah,” he said barely above a whisper. “She was real.”
She felt like a jerk.
“And so are thousands of girls like her every year. Buttles kidnaps them and puts them on ships for Russia or China. And he picks up shipments from Russia, Mongolia and Nepal and sends them across Canada and the U.S. Usually they’re already so drugged they have no idea where they are or how to get help.”
“He’s not the head of the operation,” Darryl said. “That’s a different guy. But…” He glanced at Skye now. “Buttles is the one who will kill me and my wife when he finds out I talked.”
“That’s why I’m here. To make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Darryl jerked away from Rio. “You can’t stop him. He has guys everywhere and…listen. My wife is going to have a baby. Any day, and I just…please. I need to see her. I need to be there when the baby is born.”
Rio looked at him as if Darryl had hit him again. “No way. I’m taking you back into custody.”
“Then I’m not talking.”
Rio balled his fists, stepping back from him.
Skye put a hand on his chest, right over his furious heart. “Just let him see his wife. Believe me, I know what kind of regret haunts you when you don’t say goodbye.” She lowered her voice. “After my dad was arrested, I never…I never went to see him.”
Rio frowned.
“I was so angry and hurt. He had betrayed my mom and me. He was a gambler and racked up so much debt we were going to lose everything. I think he got involved with the FBI because they offered to pay him—I don’t know. I do know that after he went to jail, my mom lost her jo
b, we lost our house, and then she lost her will to live. She still loved him for some crazy reason—and…I couldn’t forgive him.”
Rio wound his fingers through hers, on his chest.
“He died in prison without…without ever knowing that I still loved him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That I forgave him. And I can’t forgive myself for not going. I keep trying…but…” She lifted a shoulder, cutting her voice low. “Let him say goodbye. It matters.”
Rio said nothing, his mouth tight. Finally, “Okay. We’ll find your wife. And then, you tell us what we need to put Buttles away.”
Darryl nodded, a flash of dread on his face.
“Except”—Rio looked to her—“I have no idea where to go.”
“I saw a map when we were flying in, and I got a pretty good look at the lay of the land when I was watching the fire. There’s a river to the west, and beyond that, a highway. Maybe three miles from here.”
Rio nodded. Then he looked at Darryl. “Start walking.”
Darryl stumbled forward, a glance over his shoulder at Rio.
And just like that, Rio changed. From broken, humiliated prisoner to the guy in charge. The guy who could save the day.
A guy she could, and did, trust.
The heat of his hand sparked through her, right to her core as they put the cabin and the fire behind them.
I'm sorry, Tucker.
Rio pushed Darryl through the brush, his other hand in Darryl’s back until they came out to a narrow path that looked like a deer trail.
“Follow this,” Skye said. “It’ll probably lead us to water.”
Rio gave her hand a little squeeze. He didn’t need to hold it—after all, they’d ditched March—but she tightened her hold anyway.
Somehow, just being around him made her feel less overwhelmed. Kept her head above water.
“I promise, Aggie was the absolute truth,” Rio said suddenly, quietly, beside her.
“I believe you.”
He glanced down at her, so much emotion in his eyes— Wait.
“You’re tired of this, aren’t you?”
He looked away. “Tired of what?”
“Lying. Being undercover. This…whatever it is you do for the FBI.”
He was silent a few steps, then, “Yeah. I’m tired of it. When I got out of juvie, I swore I’d change my life. And I did. Something happened to me in juvie. There was a chaplain there who listened to an angry kid and didn’t give up on him. And somehow in there, the darkest place I’d ever been, I found light. I found hope. I found forgiveness.”
Summer of the Burning Sky Page 20