Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
SPENCER
R io’s muscles go taut under my hands, and when I look up, Rio’s focus is elsewhere. I bring my hand to his face and smooth the tension between his brows with my fingers. He’s never serious like that around me, and I don’t want that to start now.
This may be a serious conversation, but I don’t want to drag him down. I need him to be the Rio I know and love.
No. Not love. Nope.
Not yet.
Fucking hell.
“She told me about?—”
“Izzy.” His voice is tight.
“Yeah.” The struggle I see in him sits heavy on my chest. “You don’t need to tell me about her—you don’t owe me answers. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you lost her.”
His face turns to the side, so I gently place my hands on his cheeks and bring his attention back to me. When his eyes connect with mine, I reassure him. “I’m here. You’ve made sure I’m not going anywhere.” I chuckle.
Therapists everywhere are shaking their heads at me. Using humor to cope in a situation like this probably isn’t healthy—I learned that much from the few books I’ve read.
“I want to tell you. I said no more secrets, and I meant that.” The seriousness of his tone shuts me up, but I continue to comfort him by smoothing my hand over his short hair and drawing circles on his scalp.
He inhales deeply, letting out a long breath, then gets a far off look in his eyes. “I was ten years old when Isabella went missing. Elena was six, and Carmen wasn’t born yet. We were playing with her in the front yard while my mom was putting the groceries away. We were kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Izzy was just three and wanted to prove she could play just as hard and fast as Elena and I. She kicked the ball extra hard, and the ball went flying into the bushes. Elena and I both went after it. The bushes used to be thicker and were difficult to dig into—our backs were only turned for a couple minutes. When we turned around, she was gone.”
My heart sinks as I watch the anger and defeat take hold of him. “I’m so sorry.”
Rio clears his throat and continues. “About a week later, Gabriel and I were walking home from putting up fliers in the neighborhood. I passed an alleyway but turned back when I noticed something small and pink sticking out from behind the dumpster.” He swallows. “It was her shoes.”
Gasping, I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Her clothes were dirty and disheveled, like someone hadn’t put them back on right.”
Horror takes over my features, and my voice is almost inaudible. “No.”
“I didn’t know I was screaming until a crowd had gathered. Gabriel was trying to pull me off her which earned him two black eyes. I couldn’t stop holding my baby sister—her skin was so cold.”
Tears spill down my cheeks as Rio sits up and situates himself so he’s sitting up with his back against the headboard. My knees fall to either side of his hips, and I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my chest to his. Rio’s breathing his labored, his heartbeat is erratic.
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out on a sob, but I try to not invade this moment with my own feelings. I need to be strong for him. He deserves that much from me. “Did they catch the person who did it?”
Rio’s lips curl. “You could say that.”
My brows squish together, and I lean back so I can see his face.
“There was . . . DNA evidence, but the fucker wasn’t in the system.” He glares over my shoulder. “There was a man who lived down the street. Darryl Williams. He was leading the charge in our neighborhood to help find witnesses, evidence, things like that. He had also begun dating my mom a few weeks before. He’d come by with flowers and other things my mom liked.”
My stomach hollows out and the breakfast sandwich Zane left outside the door is ready to make a reappearance.
“None of us noticed how he paid Izzy too much attention. He finally slipped up in front of the lead detective on the case when he mentioned the color of Izzy’s socks. That wasn’t public record, and my mom was catatonic during the whole thing, so we know she didn’t tell Darryl that detail. The detective was able to get a warrant to swab Darryl’s mouth. His DNA was a match. After he was arrested, they found a hidden door behind a bookshelf in his living room. It was full of child pornography.”
I clutch Rio tighter while his hands begin to shake.
“He only served two years.”
“What?!” I rear back in disbelief.
That asshole is still out there? How many children has he hurt since then?
“He was able to get a lawyer who wanted to make a name for himself. The guy was able to appeal the conviction and get the DNA evidence thrown out.”
“Oh my God.”
The horror this man has endured. This happy, charming, fun man.
My happy, charming, fun man.
“But then I caught up to him. That cabrón kept his house while he was in prison and thought he could move back in without any repercussions.” Rio looks me right in the eye as he says, “One night, while he slept, I snuck in and handed out the justice Izzy deserved. Gabriel followed me and helped me tie that asshole to a kitchen chair and I bloodied my fists with his filth.”
Tears spill down my cheeks as Rio’s pain, coated in anger, rolls off him and fills the room.
“Getting raped in prison was supposed to be enough? That’s not nearly enough! He took my sister! My Izzy!” He pounds his chest, emphasizing the last two words. “My mom didn’t get out of bed for months. Elena didn’t speak for a year. And two years in prison was all he got? Fuck that.”
My bottom lip wobbles as I listen to him.
“I can’t unsee what I’ve seen, Spencer. Uncles corrupting nieces, mothers selling children, neighbors kidnapping infants down the street. It never ends. There are too many, and there’s not enough on our side to fight them all. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop. I’ll never stop. I’ll tear every fucker limb from limb, because this devil doesn’t just thirst for their blood. He bathes in it.”
Sheepishly, I ask, “So, you only kill bad people?”
“Yeah, Mama. Only bad people.”
Understanding spreads through me.
I’ve always believed that knowledge is power. But what people forget is that knowledge also comes with responsibility.
What would I have done? If the man who had killed my baby sister got off because a lawyer was able to convince some idiots that the police were wrong, what would I do? If I had witnessed what Rio has, how would that change me? Could I kill the people responsible too?
I’m not sure I can answer these questions.
Murder is wrong, but isn’t that what the government is allowed to do? They can hand out the death penalty like free candy to convicts if they wish. What’s supposed to happen when the justice system fails? What happens when a killer goes free?
While I battle back and forth in my mind, Rio watches me silently. I don’t like that he’s quiet—that’s not the man I know. He always knows how to lighten the mood.
I guess I’ll just have to do that for him.