Crossing the Line

  Her tongue darts out and she licks her lips. "You're teasing me."

  "Yeah, I am." I undo the button and slowly move the zipper down, the entire time watching her reaction. I pull my jeans down and kick them away. "You've already seen me," I tell her as I expose the rest of myself.

  "I know, but I was too nervous to really pay attention." Her eyes gaze over me and they brighten with a passion that makes me feel like I'm invincible.

  I've got her attention now. "Your turn," I tell her.

  "Not yet." She steps closer and reaches out, touching my chest with her soft, delicate fingers. Her eyes soften and her mouth twists into a somber frown as she touches my abdomen. "You're still bruised."

  I'm trying to keep my emotions in check, but her touch sends my body into overdrive. "I'm fine."

  "You sure?"

  Her fingers gently glide over my bruises. At first I think she might be repulsed by them, but to my surprise she bends down and her fingers are replaced by her lips. I close my eyes and feel the brush of her gentle kisses on each bruise, starting with my shoulders and moving down to my chest and lower . . .

  "I think I'm all healed," I groan, acutely aware that I'm rock-hard right now. "Damn, I should get beat up more often."

  A satisfied grin crosses her mouth. As she reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me, I pull back and cross my arms. "Your turn." I gesture to her clothes. "Take 'em off, baby."

  She pouts with those soft, full lips that are driving me wild. "I wasn't finished exploring."

  With an amused grin, I shake my head. "Even the playing field, Ms. Sandoval."

  She holds her hands up in mock surrender. "Fine." Reaching out for the light switch on the wall, she moves the toggle down so the light is dimmed to where I can hardly see her.

  I turn the light back on to full strength.

  She dims the light again. "It's too bright in here."

  "It wasn't too bright a minute ago."

  "A minute ago you weren't about to see me naked." When she can see I'm not about to give up, she adds, "I don't want you to see my imperfections."

  "What imperfections?"

  "I'm not going to tell them to you. Then you'll focus on them."

  "Baby, from where I'm standing you don't have imperfections. Not one." I turn the light back on and step closer, then ease her shirt up over her head. I hear her uneven breathing when I turn her around and unhook her bra as I kiss the back of her neck. "Show me your body, Dalila," I whisper against her skin. Her hands immediately cover her breasts as she turns to face me. I gently take her hands and ease them away, exposing her.

  At first she tenses, but soon her hands reach around and grab the back of my neck as she relaxes. "You sure you want to see everything?"

  I nod. "Oh, yeah. Very sure."

  Her hands go to the waistband of her shorts and I feel like I'm the luckiest guy alive. This isn't the first time we've been intimate, but this feels different. She isn't just gifting me her body. She's trusting me with her inner fears and insecurities. When her panties and shorts fall to the floor, she focuses her gaze on the ground.

  "Look at me, Dalila."

  When she does, my fingers trace a path from her taut stomach to those perfectly shaped hips and I settle my palms on her amazing backside. I pick her up by her bottom. In one swift movement, she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist as I escort my beautiful woman to the shower.

  "Thank you, Ryan Hess," she whispers against the crook of my neck.

  "For what?"

  "Loving me."

  In the morning I wake up early and turn Mateo's cell phone on. He left me a text that I should come to the gym and he'll drive us to the safe house. He's got it all set up.

  I ignore his message because Dalila doesn't need a safe house. She needs her grandmother. Hell, we both need Abuela Carmela at this point, the strong Mexican woman who's paved her own path and survived. She doesn't trust Don Sandoval and who he's become. She'll tell us what to do.

  I text Mateo back that we're going to Dalila's grandmother's house in Tulanco and I'll call him when I get there. I don't want him to wonder if we're dead or alive.

  Just being in Dalila's presence calms me and makes me want to live in her mind, because she tries to find the positive where I can only see negative. Even last night, she was content to block out the crap situation we're in and focus on the amazing reprieve in this luxury hotel.

  While she's in a peaceful slumber, I push away the curtains and peer out our hotel room window. Below us, roaming the pool area as if they're on a mission, are two Mexican police officers. Are they looking for us? My mind starts racing with random thoughts. If they're crooked, are they affiliated with Las Calaveras or Los Reyes del Norte?

  If they're connected to Los Reyes del Norte, Dalila should be safe.

  If they're connected to Las Calaveras . . .

  I don't wake her up, but I sit by the door just in case anyone decides to come in uninvited.

  "Good morning," Dalila says in a groggy voice as she stretches. When she sits up, I try to act like everything is cool but she takes one look at me and frowns. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. Nada."

  She looks at me sideways. "Tell me."

  "I saw two cops around the pool area. I don't know if they're after me or not. We need to get to your grandmother's house. Today. Even if we have to hot-wire a car to do it."

  She nods. "Okay."

  Luckily the cops leave. We wait for a while, then Dalila asks one of the gardeners to drive us to Tulanco for a hefty sum. After his shift, we get in his truck and head out. He drops us off in Tulanco a half hour later.

  "The door is wide open," Dalila announces as we walk up to the front of Abuela Carmela's house. "Why would it be open?"

  "Maybe she forgot to close it," I explain. "She's old. Old people forget things."

  But as we step into the house, it's obvious something's wrong. The pictures on the walls are all crooked and furniture is scattered on the floor, signaling some kind of struggle.

  I step farther into the kitchen and a grisly scene greets me, one more vile than Rico's death.

  No.

  "Dalila, don't look! Stay outside!" I rush to Abuela Carmela, who's lying on the floor, soaking in her own blood. "Whatever you do, don't come in here!"

  It's too late. Dalila's hand flies to her mouth and a helpless cry pierces the air at the sight of her grandmother riddled with stab wounds.

  The word venganza is written on the floor in blood.

  Forty-Four

  Dalila

  With a pained, piercing scream I fall to my knees next to my abuelita. This can't be real. Not her, not now! Her clothes are completely soaked with blood and her eyes are empty.

  She's gone. Venganza means revenge, which means she was killed in retaliation by one of the cartels. There's only one person responsible for this.

  I have no strength left for this.

  Nausea invades my body. Why her? She was just a frail old lady . . . my abuela who refused to give up on what she believed in even if it meant not seeing her family.

  "No!" Rage like a tsunami engulfs me. "Give me the phone!" I cry out, grasping at Ryan's jeans for Mateo's cell. I dial my father's number to scream at him and call him a murderer and threaten every bone in his body, but Ryan rips the phone from my hand before my papa answers.

  "Don't call him," he says, hanging up.

  "Why? Why can't I tell him the truth, that he's a monster? My father is a monster, Ryan! If it weren't for him, she'd be alive," I sob. "I just know it. Venganza means revenge, Ryan. Papa killed Rico, so Las Calaveras killed her!"

  "Now isn't the time to confront him."

  "It'll never be a good time. He's destroyed everything I care about. Everything! If anything happens to my mother, sisters, or you . . . I'll . . . I'll . . ."

  I grab a towel and rush to the sink, then wipe mi abuelita's bloody face to preserve some of her dignity. Disgust and anger envelope me as I cradle her
head in my lap, unwilling to let her go. Unable to accept this. I'm shaking while uncontrollable sobs rip from my lungs. Ryan kneels beside me and holds us both.

  "Why? Why? Why?" I chant over and over as I break down. I don't know what I would do if he weren't here for me, to be my support when I feel like my own life is draining from my body.

  "I'm calling the police," Ryan says.

  "No! What if they're the ones who did this? What if it's another ploy to frame you?" I look at him, my eyes blurry and stinging from crying so much. "Why did they do this?" I say in a weak, defeated voice.

  Ryan sighs. "I don't know," he finally says.

  The devastation will never end. My emotions are running rampant. I was strong and determined to fight for my independence but now I feel like giving up.

  I take in my now-bloody clothes and bloodstained hands. "What are we going to do? No police, Ryan. I don't know who we can trust at this point."

  "I can try calling someone in the US." He looks as defeated as I feel. "But I don't know if that'll make things worse."

  "We're alone in this, aren't we?"

  He nods. "Yeah. We're alone. I mean, I can call Mateo and see what he says but I'm sure he's gettin' grilled by your dad or Rico's crew by now. Or the police. I don't want to get him killed for associating with us."

  "He said he knew of a safe house. I know you don't want to admit that we need it . . ." I lean into him for strength. "But we need it, Ryan. We need to be safe. Together. Wherever you go, I go."

  As long as we're together, that's all that matters. I have nothing left. Nothing, besides the man standing in front of me.

  "You don't deserv--"

  "Stop saying that! We're family now. Nothing else matters. We're not safe here. If this was some sort of setup, they'll be back, Ryan." I take the phone from him. "Call Mateo. Tell him we're ready to go to the safe house. After we're there maybe I can send for my mom and sisters. You can't protect me on your own. I know it's not your nature, but don't be afraid to ask for help. It doesn't make you less of a man. I promise you that."

  As I sit on the stoop of Abuela Carmela's house, I hug my knees to my chest and rock back and forth. Ryan reluctantly calls Mateo. He tells Mateo everything that's happened. Mateo admits that he's been interrogated by members of Las Calaveras. They've been asking questions about Ryan and his whereabouts. In the end, Mateo agrees to meet us here so he can get us to the safe house where we can be invisible.

  Ryan kneels in front of me. "I need to wash the blood off you," he tells me in a calm, gentle voice. "If we're questioned, we can't be seen with blood all over our clothes and hands."

  "I can't do this." I look into his kind, loving eyes. "I can't function."

  "Yes, you can." He rubs my palm gently with his thumb, the sensation reminding me that I might be completely numb inside but I'm still alive. "I'll get some clothes you can wear from inside the house. Okay? You can do this. I'll help you."

  I nod.

  With tender hands, he leads me to the water tank on the side of the house. As I stand here, barely aware of what's going on, he washes all the blood off me carefully and slowly as if I could break at any moment. I feel fragile and want to shut my mind off. I don't even protest when he dresses me in a pair of my grandmother's shorts and a T-shirt that still carries her sweet scent.

  After I'm clean, he instructs me to sit on a rock not far away. He kneels in front of me again and makes me look at him. "I'm going to bury her," he says, his face full of compassion.

  "No," I cry out as I clutch his shoulders in a desperate attempt at blocking this entire scene out of my head.

  "I don't want to leave her like this, love. She deserves a proper burial." He points at the horizon. "Just look across the horizon and think of that house we talked about building. Remember that house? I can almost see it if I focus hard enough."

  As I stare across the land, he kisses me on my forehead before taking on the daunting task of laying Abuela Carmela to rest. By the time Mateo pulls up in his uncle's red truck an hour later, we're all cleaned and have said our teary good-byes to her.

  I climb into the back seat and insist on Ryan sitting next to Mateo in front. We need help, and Mateo is the only person who can help us right now.

  We can't do this alone. Not anymore.

  "I can't believe what happened," Mateo says. "It's insane!"

  "Yep," Ryan murmurs. "Tell us what to do, man. I'm out of ideas."

  "Well, I didn't want to tell you this, Ry," Mateo says with a slight groan. "It's pretty bad."

  "What's going on?" Ryan asks. "Hit me with it."

  "You sure?"

  Ryan puts his hands in the air, exasperated that there's more bad news. "Nothin' could surprise me at this point."

  "All right." Mateo keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road as he hesitates. "Las Calaveras have put a hit out on you. I guess your stepfather is going to try to come from Texas so he can get the job done. Without concrete evidence, there's no way they'll lock him up."

  The reality of it all is too much. Ryan's stepfather is out to kill him?

  No, it can't be.

  But when I look at Mateo's serious expression I know it's true.

  Forty-Five

  Ryan

  Every time life has thrown crap my way, I've dealt with it. It's been nonstop my entire existence.

  The fact that my mother's husband wants me dead is chilling. I look back at Dalila, who's staring at me, wide-eyed. "We'll figure this out," she says. "I'll think of something." She sounds so determined and sure of herself. I'd love to be able to tell her that everything will be okay, but I can't.

  I swear under my breath. While I can't say my mother has been a loving parent, I still can't leave her to be manipulated by her crook of a husband. "I'm going to the US to bring him down," I tell them. "Mateo will take you to the safe house. I'll go to Loveland and--"

  She shakes her head. "No. You're not leaving me."

  "I can't let him get away with what he's doing." Max Trieger wouldn't hide out in some safe house if he knew that an officer was dirty. He'd fight for what was right, no matter what. I'm tired of running.

  Dalila shakes her head again. "You're not leaving me."

  Driving through the now-familiar landscape, I'm careful to shield myself so nobody can recognize me as one of the most wanted men in Mexico. I'm finding it hard to wrap my brain around all the players and what their motives are.

  All I know for sure is that I'm caught in the middle of it.

  "So here's the plan," Mateo says as we get close to Sevilla. "We'll wait at Mamacita's until ten tonight, then I'll drive you to the safe house. It's better to travel in the dark."

  I turn around. "You okay with the plan?"

  Dalila, still in shock from the turn of events, nods. "You're staying with me, right?"

  "Yeah. I'll be with you," I tell her. At least until I figure out a plan.

  I think she's in survival mode, just breathing to live. I squeeze her hand to let her know I'm here. I'll be here for her as long as I can.

  After we pull around to the parking lot in the back of the bar, Mateo and I rush Dalila through the back door and up to the second-floor apartment. Mateo sits at the kitchen table and starts making phone calls to his buddies who can help us when I remember I left my duffel in the car with a big stash of cash inside. I don't want to leave it alone for one second. "I have to get my stuff from the car," I tell Dalila. I grab the keys Mateo left on the counter. "I'll be right back."

  "Hurry," Dalila calls out as I rush to the parking lot.

  My duffel is in the front seat where I left it. As I grab it, I remember the little heart-shaped rock Dalila gave me for good luck the last time we drove this truck. I open the glove compartment to retrieve it, but when I reach inside something sharp slices through my finger. Rummaging inside, I notice a bloodstained cloth. As I pull it out, a knife falls into my hand.

  Abuela Carmela's jewel-encrusted, one-of-a-kind heirloom knife with her great-
grandfather's initials carved into it. A gun is hidden inside the glove compartment as well.

  The only explanation I can come up with makes my entire body fire up. Don Sandoval didn't instigate this war between Las Calaveras and Los Reyes del Norte.

  Mateo did.

  He killed Abuela Carmela. But why?

  With adrenaline running through my body, I quickly pull out the cell phone he gave me and call Officer Matthews.

  "Matthews," he answers.

  "This is Ryan Hess, Paul Blackburn's stepson."

  "Where are you?"

  "Mexico." I hesitate, because I'm not 100 percent I can trust him. "Something's going down here and I need help. Oscar Sandoval is involved with some guy named Santiago Vega and I think they're part of Los Reyes del Norte. Mateo Rodriguez killed Oscar's mother for revenge, but I don't know why. My stepfather is connected to Francisco Cruz and Las Calaveras. I think they were involved in Max Trieger's death."

  "Whoa, slow down."

  "I can't. I don't have much time to talk." I look over my shoulder at the bar, hoping that Mateo is still preoccupied.

  "Oscar Sandoval is working with us," Officer Matthews tells me. "His client Santiago Vega has been an informant. They're on our side, Ryan. We just don't have confessions or evidence."

  Dalila's father is helping Vega bring down the cartels. He isn't one of them. Her dad is one of the good guys. A sense of relief rushes through me.

  "Meet me at the boxing gym tonight in Sevilla," I tell him. "Ten o'clock. I'll make sure everyone is there. I'll bring evidence and try to lure out confessions."

  "Don't try to be a hero, Ryan. Stay out of it. They're dangerous people who kill for a living."

  "It's too late for that. I'm already involved," I tell him, then hang up.

  I call my one-man crew and tell him what's going down. I instruct him to call Camacho and make sure the old man stays clear of the boxing gym tonight. I don't want him getting caught in the crossfire.

  "I got you. Be safe," Pablo says before hanging up.

  Afterward I make my last call.

  "Sheriff Blackburn," he answers.

  "It's Ryan."

  "Where are you, Ryan?"

  "I'm in Mexico. I have the money but there are people after me," I say in a shaky voice so he thinks I'm scared. "Can you come get me?"