Crossing the Line Read online

  "Where are your championship belts?" I ask, expecting them to be proudly displayed on the wall.

  "I don't need to have a reminder of the past." He points to his head. "The memories are in here. It was a long time ago, Ryan. Nobody remembers me anymore."

  "You're wrong! I used to watch tapes of your fights. I used to mimic your stealth moves. Remember the fight with Manuel Reyes? Oh, man, you were on fire." Camacho's mouth turns into a smile when I mimic his jabs.

  "That was a long time ago, Ryan."

  "I'm sorry about what happened to your wife. Is that why you disappeared after your last fight?"

  He nods. "She was the love of my life, Ryan. Still is. Many times she left me to go live with her parents so I could stay focused, because she knew that's what I needed. Before the accident she was an independent wife. Maybe I had a few more fights left in me, but she needed me, so I left the sport." He sets down cucumbers and tomatoes on the table. "Here." He hands me a knife. "Make yourself useful."

  While I cut the vegetables and he starts to cook dinner, I wonder what his life would have been like if Valeria hadn't been in the accident. "Do you miss it?"

  "Every day. When you're a true boxer, the sport consumes you. You think about boxing, everything you eat is to fuel yourself for a fight, you dream about boxing." He looks me straight in the eye. "But at the end of the day, boxing won't be there to smile at you when you walk in the door."

  Twenty-Two

  Dalila

  I've tried ignoring the fact that everything has changed since the shooting, but I can't do it anymore. Papa's newly hired bodyguards patrolling our house at all hours of the day and night make me feel claustrophobic. This constant feeling of dread isn't going away and instead gets more intense every day.

  Since my birthday party I feel like we're all in a fog. My parents are so distant they might as well be living in another country. I feel so alone. Once again I tried to press Papa for answers and he shut me out.

  Yesterday investigators came to our house. They were in Papa's office for what seemed like forever. When they came out, one of them was holding a briefcase that he hadn't walked in with. Was there bribe money inside?

  What has my father gotten himself involved with?

  The news on the TV didn't make me feel any better.

  While the reporter admitted that drug violence has been on the decline, he said new concerns have developed. Los Reyes del Norte cartel, the newest cartel wreaking havoc across the country, was waging war on Las Calaveras for power and territory. The leader of Los Reyes del Norte, El Fuego, was said to be paying off some police and government officials to look the other way. They said he was smart, resourceful, and knew how the law worked.

  Papa is smart, resourceful, and knows Mexican law like the back of his hand. Did he pay off the investigators yesterday with a briefcase full of cash? Could he possibly be the mystery man they call El Fuego?

  Sitting back waiting for answers isn't going to happen anymore. If nobody will tell me what's going on, I need to find out for myself. One person knows something. It's time I stop trying to be the good girl and let the rebel in me come out.

  I tell my parents I'm sleeping at Demi's house and they order that bodyguard Gerardo to take me. After Gerardo drops me off, Demi lets me borrow her car. I lied to my family on purpose. I should be full of remorse, but I'm not. I'm a girl on a mission and I'm not letting anything get in my way. For once I have a plan that isn't orchestrated by someone else.

  I'm going to find answers on my own. There's just one problem. I can't go without protection. I need my own bodyguard.

  And there's only one person who can fill that role.

  I drive through the small towns that lead to the boxing gym and my heart beats fast in anticipation and fear. I haven't seen Ryan since he was at my house the day of my birthday, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been close to my thoughts. I wonder if he's at least thought about me a little.

  Or more than a little.

  It's dark now and Sevilla is a desolate town. It isn't in a shady area, but I'm hyperaware that I could be in danger if a cartel member is tailing me.

  When I reach the gym, I grab my bag out of the car and head to the front door. It's locked.

  The place is dark and being here alone is starting to creep me out. It looks deserted except for the lone Mustang with Texas license plates parked in the lot. I know Ryan is here.

  Damn.

  Standing out here all alone is probably not the best idea I've ever had, but I'm not turning back now.

  Maybe there's another door in the back. I peek around the corner using my cell phone light to guide me. There's a door about twenty feet away. I reach for the handle but before I can turn it, I hear someone clear their throat.

  I gasp in fear and almost fall backward.

  "Didn't anyone ever tell you trespassing is a crime?" Ryan's husky voice echoes through the air.

  I let out a relieved sigh and shine my light into the darkness. Ryan is sitting about ten feet away from me on an old, rusty metal chair. He's all alone.

  I walk toward him and can't help the feeling of elation that washes over me. "I came here to ask you a favor. What are you doing outside in the dark?"

  "It's not dark." He points to the sky. "Those are stars."

  "I know what they are, Ryan. I just didn't know you were into astronomy."

  "I'm not. I needed to think. Lookin' at the stars helps. They're the only light I need."

  "What do you need to think about?"

  "Life. Boxing. Strategy on life . . . and boxing," he says with a chuckle.

  So he's not thinking about me. A pang of sadness pulses in my chest. When I'm in his presence, my body feels all tingly and my heart races. I'm drawn to him and get a renewed sense of energy when he's near. It's apparently one-sided and he doesn't feel the same way about me. He's been my hero when I didn't think I wanted one, but now, when I need a hero, I'm too nervous to ask.

  "How's your wound?" I stutter.

  "Nonexistent at this point. Or maybe it's so infected it's numb." When I open my eyes wide with worry he holds up a hand. "I'm just kiddin'. It's all healed."

  There's another chair next to him. He gestures for me to sit on it, so I walk over and plop myself down. I'm trying not to think that someone could be lurking in the darkness, ready to hurt me in an attempt to get revenge on my father.

  "Did you come up with anything?" I ask. "On life strategy, I mean? Because I could use some advice on that."

  "Nah," he says. "I don't have any answers."

  I gaze up at the stars twinkling in the sky. "When I was a little kid I thought each star was a Martian sending signals to earth." I glance at Ryan. The angles of his face are outlined in the moonlight, making him look older. "It's stupid."

  "I used to think I would be the first person to live on Mars." He shrugs. "I'd volunteer to escape my crap life on earth. Talk about stupid. I'm not even goin' to college. Who'd want some dumbass living on Mars? I'd probably do something idiotic and accidentally blow the planet up."

  "Speaking of idiotic, once I slept on my arm and when I woke up it was numb," I tell him. "I lifted it over my head to try and get the blood flowing and it hit me in the face. I thought my arm was paralyzed forever."

  "You think that's bad?" he says. "I got an erection during the swim unit freshman year. One of the girls noticed and screamed it out to the entire class. I asked my mom to write me a note explaining I had a condition that prevented me from swimming the rest of the year. She didn't, and the kids nicknamed me Hardy for the rest of the school year."

  I look at him sideways and try not to laugh. "I have to admit that's pretty bad."

  He nods. "Yep."

  "If it makes you feel any better, when I was seven someone called our house and told me that I'd won a new television. All I needed was to give them my credit card information for the shipping cost. I obviously didn't have a credit card, so I went into my father's wallet when he wasn't looking and stole
his card. It was a scam, obviously. We never got the TV and I never told my dad it was me who was responsible for his identity theft."

  He grins. "When my mom was dating this guy I didn't like, I took his phone number and had a teenage neighbor of mine, Trixie, lend me her phone. When my mom was out for the night with the jerk, I used the girl's phone to text the guy all this sexual stuff hoping my mom would see it. She did, and she dumped him the next day. She cried for three weeks straight. Even though the guy was a jerk, I felt like shit about what I did."

  "I hadn't seen my grandmother in a really long time and she was sick." I take a deep breath. "Actually, she was dying. So I decided to ask this boy to drive me the two hours to her house so I could see her one last time and say good-bye."

  "Did you go?" he asks.

  "I don't know yet." I clear my throat in anticipation of the words that are about to come out of my mouth. "You haven't told me if you'll escort me, so I can't tell you what happens."

  He sits up. "You want me to escort you?"

  I nod. "Si. It's two hours from here. I promise I'll pay you for your time, and we can drive back tomorrow, so we'll be gone for less than a day." I sound desperate, but that's how I feel at this point.

  "Have your parents take you."

  I wish I'd thought of an answer to that beforehand. "They're busy," I blurt out. "And if they find out I've gone alone they'll seriously make my life miserable. They're old-school and think a girl shouldn't travel by herself." I shrug. "They think I'll get kidnapped if people find out my father is representing Santiago Vega, especially after that sniper thing happened. I told them I was going with a bodyguard and they said it was fine." Lies lies lies. They're flying out of my mouth as if I was born to be a liar.

  He shakes his head. "Sorry, I can't help you."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have to stay focused. I'm bein' trained by Camacho and I can't screw it up."

  I can't have him say no. He's the only one who can help me.

  "I need your help, Ryan. Think of it as a vacation. Going to my abuela's house will be like going to Mars. It's far away, and it's an adventure. I know you like adventures!" I squeeze my eyes shut as I add, "And I know you're a nice guy and would want to help me see my dying abuela." I reach out and place my hand on top of his. "She doesn't have much time left. And I don't trust anyone else to take me but you. The fact is, Ryan, I don't want anyone else there with me. I know we've only known each other for a small amount of time, but the truth is I need you."

  The lies I've been spouting suddenly turn into a moment of truth.

  I do need him.

  More than I ever thought I'd need someone.

  I don't want to scare him off by revealing my true feelings.

  He leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees and sighs. "I can't do this."

  A sinking feeling settles in my stomach and lingers there. "Do what?"

  "This. Us. You and me, it won't work. I mean, could I have a one-night fling with you? Sure." He turns and looks right at me. "Is that what you want?"

  "No. I want more."

  "I've been dead inside for so long this is unfamiliar territory. There's something going on between us, but Camacho says I need to stay focused. He took a chance on me to help me fulfill my dream of becoming a pro boxer. Letting him down isn't an option. I owe so much to Mateo for hookin' me up, I can't let him down either. I owe him."

  I can't hold it in any longer. "Ryan, Mateo didn't send Juan Camacho to you. I did."

  His brows furrow in confusion. "What?"

  "I called Camacho and told him to give you a chance. I asked him to train you if he thought you were good enough. You told me you'd owe a big favor to anyone who got Camacho to come see you."

  "You did it?" he asks slowly as his brain processes the news. He leans back and groans, as if I just took the wind out of his sails. "Wow. I really am an idiot."

  "No. I'm the idiot," I tell him. "Because I came here tonight and figured you'd want to help me without having to call in the favor you owe me."

  "How do you know Camacho?"

  "He's an old friend of my dad's. He used to come to my house a lot. Maybe I got Camacho here, but you made him believe in your talent and agree to train you."

  "Now you expect me to pay you back by escorting you to your grandmother's house?"

  "Yes. As my bodyguard."

  "I can't."

  "Fine. Go back on your word, Ryan. I held up my end of the bargain. If you can't hold up your end--"

  "We didn't have a bargain, Dalila."

  "You said you'd owe someone who got Camacho to look at you. I guess your word doesn't mean much. If having honor isn't your thing . . ." My voice trails off.

  I start walking back to the car, but Ryan runs up to me and blocks my path. "Give me a minute to explain, will you?" He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Listen, I meant what I said, but I can't get attached to you. I feel like I'm already gettin' in too deep. You need to understand who I am."

  "I know who you are. You're the guy who wants to escape to Mars, regrets making his mom cry, and gets erections in swim class," I tell him.

  He nods. "Exactly. I'm simple. And poor. No complexity here."

  "I sent Camacho to see you because I care about you," I say sheepishly. "I got you what you wanted." I avoid his eyes as I tear up. "Don't deny me my grandmother. It's not safe for me to go alone. I need you there. I need you there to protect me. I need you to be my hero."

  Ryan presses his palms to his eyes. "Fine, I'll do it. I'll take you to see your dying grandmother. No payment needed," he says. "Havin' Camacho train me is payment enough."

  "You're talking like this is a business deal instead of a favor for someone you like as more than a friend."

  "It is a business deal. Listen, as much as I'd want to be more than just a bodyguard escorting you to your grandmother's, I can't. Not now. We go, you say your good-byes, and we head back."

  "Fine," I say. At this point I'm afraid he'll change his mind if I don't take him up on his offer. "I'll sleep here so we can leave first thing in the morning."

  He stops in his tracks. "Sleep here?"

  "You don't expect me to drive all the way back to Panche now, do you?"

  "I guess not. Be aware that I don't have one of those soft beds with fluffy pillows like you're used to."

  "That's fine," I tell him. "I can rough it."

  The side of his mouth quirks up. "Uh-huh," he mumbles under his breath.

  This is going to be one interesting night. Ryan thinks he's going to stay distant, but I'm not going to let him.

  Twenty-Three

  Ryan

  I can't believe I agreed to be Dalila's escort. What the hell was I thinking? It's not like I don't want to go with her. I just don't know if I can be physically close to her without falling into something dangerous. As I lead Dalila inside the gym, I wonder how tangled up I am in her world of deception and power.

  I just have to resist the pull she has on me. I have to keep my distance, literally and figuratively.

  As we pass the boxing ring on the way to my room, she stops. "I think it's really cool that you're a boxer," she says.

  "Most girls I know hate boxing," I tell her. "They think it's brutal. You go in the ring and fight other guys and get sweaty and gross. Even after you shower, you can't wash off the cuts or bruises."

  "Speaking of showers," she says. She twirls her hair around her finger. "I think I need one."

  I cock an eyebrow. "You need a shower?"

  "Yeah. Why? What's the problem? It's the end of the day and I feel gross."

  "There's no problem. Come on," I say, leading her to the lone bathroom in the place. "I'll stand guard to make sure nobody bothers you, although we're the only two people here. Nobody else trains this late." I haven't even seen the manager dude, Ocho, for a few days. "But just in case, I'll stand outside the door."

  "Thanks," she says, slipping past me as she enters the bathroom with her pur
ple bag in tow.

  I stand guard, leaning against the doorjamb. If I were another guy, I'd have made a move on her already. Hell, maybe in the past I would have been that guy. Then I hear the shower turn on.

  My mind isn't as chivalrous as I'd like it to be, because suddenly visions of her naked body being sprayed by the showerhead enter my brain. Images of her soaping her breasts and stomach and lower. If I were in there with her, I'd offer to . . .

  Oh, hell.

  Now my body is reacting, willing and ready to be called into action.

  There won't be any action, I tell myself. There would be consequences.

  Like expectations that I could never meet.

  Like commitments that I could never keep.

  Like feelings I would refuse to feel.

  This is torture.

  I groan and bang the back of my head against the wall. This is not what I signed up for. I'm a boxer, here in this shithole in Mexico to train. I'm not here to fantasize about some entitled, beautiful girl who wants to guilt me into escorting her to her ailing grandmother's house.

  "You okay?" Dalila's sweet feminine voice, which suddenly reminds me of thick honey, lands on my ears. I swallow hard as she appears wearing a small towel from the gym. A towel! Is she kidding me? Does she realize that I'm an eighteen-year-old guy?

  Sure she does. She knows exactly what she's doing. Manipulation, plain as day, is what's going on here.

  "Put your clothes on," I say in a monotone voice, unwilling to give her any satisfaction.

  It's ironic. Usually I'm the one shirtless and she's trying to convince me to cover up. Oh, how the tables have turned. But I won't let her win. Nope. My will is as strong as steel. I'm not my dad, being selfish for a piece of ass. My will is stronger than his.

  Dalila starts walking to the back room with that damn skimpy towel around her body and her girly bag slung over her shoulder.

  "Obviously I'm going to put clothes on, Ryan," she says in a sexy, flirty tone. "I just have to dry off first."

  The princess is playing with me.

  I might have had a few too many hits to the head, but not too many to know that I'm being manipulated.

  In my room I gesture to the gym mats on the floor. "It's not much of a bed, not like what your parents have in their guest bedroom."

  She eyes my shitty bed but doesn't give any indication that she's repulsed. "It's fine."