Spiced Molasses

Chapter 37

Daryl was only seconds behind Martinez when they pulled up in front of the house. He let the bike skid to the ground as he nimbly dismounted, his eyes only on the wide open door. Michonne was just inside, talking rapidly and urgently into the phone. Somewhere along the journey, they'd been joined by motorcade of police cars and pitch black SUVs with flashing lights fixed to the roof. Daryl knew with some certainty that Rick was in one of those cars.

With numb fingers he dug his phone out of his pocket. Haste made him fumble as he desperately fought to open the device that would show him exactly where Beth was. Normally the screen held a vibrant red dot, pinpointing the place, down to the inch, where Beth was standing. It was ominously blank now.

He was dimly aware of Martinez shouting questions, demanding answers but it was like someone had pressed the mute button. Daryl could see his lips moving but he wasn't registering the sounds, not really.

Michonne spotted him and her whole expression shifted. Even at a distance he could see her guilt.

"What happened?" he asked, surprised by how calm he sounded. His gaze started sweeping, looking for even the smallest clue that would reveal what had happened here. "Is she alive?"

"They took the women. All of them." Michonne didn't try and soften the blow because she knew there was no way to say it that would make it any better. Sympathy flashed in the depths of her eyes.

Daryl could hear Rick and Walsh behind him now and knew that this place would be swarming with agents soon. If anyone would be able to find Beth, it would be them. Of course, it would help if they had assistance from someone who had been in direct contact with the man responsible.

Exploding into motion, Daryl had two hands hooked into the front of Martinez' shirt before he could blink, cutting the man off mid shout.

Daryl slammed the gang leader hard into the wall, oblivious to the hands fruitlessly clawing at his shoulders, trying to pull him backwards.

"You tell them everything!" he shouted, all his rage suddenly radiating outward. "Every fuckin' little detail about this prick."

Stronger arms enclosed around his middle, wresting him backwards. Walsh.

Martinez was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. In fact, most of them were. Pete was already murmuring to someone wearing a uniform. Daryl had almost forgotten Haley had been here too in his anger.

It was making it difficult to breath and his chest was heaving with the effort of trying to drag enough oxygen into his body.

"You're taking this a little personally, agent Dixon," a knowing voice said in his ear. Shane still had him gripped tightly. That comment made his vision swim red, maybe it was guilt and maybe it was blind fear for Beth's safety but he twisted in the iron hold and managed to punch Shane square in the jaw.

His knuckles ached immediately from the force of it but it was satisfying to see Shane stagger backwards, almost losing his balance.

Rick was suddenly in between the pair of them, using two firm hands on Shane's shoulders to stop him surging back at Daryl. Daryl didn't care; he would have welcomed the fight. On a normal day, he was pretty sure Shane could kick his ass. After all, he was well trained and something about him breathed violence. But today? Daryl wanted to tear him limb for limb.

"You were s'posed to protect her!" Daryl spat.

"Get your pet redneck back on his leash, Rick," Shane snarled over Rick's shoulder, flushing with fury.

"Pet?" Martinez was finding his voice again after being attacked.

"She trusted us and we let her get taken right from under our nose!" Daryl snapped back, ignoring Martinez' question, ignoring how much they were revealing with their behaviour.