Page 23 of Rekindle My Heart

The guy liquefied like a limp noodle, sliding to the ground. “I can’t go back to prison. I can’t.”

It was a minor drug charge. The chances of him going to prison were low, but the guy started bawling like a two-year-old. Snot ran from his nose. He flailed as much as he could with his hands cuffed behind him.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “What’s your name?”

He sniffed, then wiped his face on his bare shoulder.

Eww. Erica dealt with blood and burns, but the stringy snot turned her stomach. Maybe she should have eaten more than the sugary roll for breakfast.

“I can’t. Mama will kill me.” He rolled from side to side. His breathing sped up. Rapid intakes and not enough exhales. The guy would hyperventilate if he didn’t calm down.

Ryan huffed and shook his head. “You need to chill. Sir, what’s your name?”

“Reggie.”

Erica stepped closer. Squatted to his eye level. “Reggie. I need you to sit up and put your head between your knees. I don’t want you to pass out.”

He rolled forward and huffed out air.

“Better.” Erica rose, sent Ryan a private message with her facial expressions. He rolled his eyes, then nodded.

“Reggie, how about we have a talk right here.”

His dark brows jumped up. “Really? Can I go?”

“I didn’t say that.” Scanning his eyes, she gauged how high he was. Not so much that he couldn’t communicate.

Dirt clung to the tear tracks on the younger man’s face. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

Now Ryan’s brow shot up. “So, if I ran a drug test right now, you’d be clean?”

The guy’s gaze traveled across the yard, down the sidewalk, anywhere but at Ryan. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Sal.”

“Fuck.” Reggie rocked back and forth. “I don’t know him.”

“But you know the man in the SUV was his buyer.” Erica crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me about him?”

She caught Ryan nodding. A zip of excitement shot up her arm. It must be the good cop-bad cop thing they had going on. Because it surely wasn’t his approval causing it. She didn’t need that.

Resigned, Reggie slumped. Shoulder-length braids covered his face. “Salvador Ruiz is the local dealer. You want it, he can get it.”

“Where does he live?”

“I don’t know.” At their skepticism, panic flooded his face. “Really. He was living with his cousin for a while, but I heard he moved.”

“But he hangs out on Industrial Boulevard?” She threw him an easy question.

Dark braids bobbed. “Yeah. But I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“Can you describe him?” Ryan asked.

He shrugged. “He’s my height. Latino. Got a couple tats.”

“Hell, who doesn’t have tattoos? Tell me about his?”

Tats? Ryan? Erica’s curiosity piqued. Her gaze roamed his fit physique. Bicep? Chest? Maybe a pair of cuffs on his…