Crossing the Line Page 16
My stomach flutters. "Are you serious? What about boxing? I thought--"
"I can do both," he says in a determined voice. "Just . . . be honest with me. Always."
The problem is I do have secrets that I can't share with him. I've already told him so much. I'm worried he'll think I'm too much trouble if I reveal that I suspect my father isn't just affiliated with the cartel; he might actually have escalated to be the drug lord El Fuego. His association with Santiago Vega, and the investigators that came out of our house with that briefcase are clues that he's not innocent. And now my grandmother told me he's had some shady business deals.
I'm selfish when I say, "I want you to be open with me, Ryan." It pains me that I can't be as open with him.
"I will." He flashes me a little smile. "If I'm gonna be honest, your grandmother's little fried beef things are addicting. Add those to my gravesite on that Day of the Dead. I'm in training and shouldn't be eatin' anything fried."
"I need to be a good influence on you, or else Juan Camacho isn't going to be happy with me. No more fried food."
Suddenly I feel like I can figure out the puzzle that's become my life. If the Ryan piece fits, then I have one part of my life in order. I won't be alone.
At least for now.
Back in the house Abuela Carmela can tell the mood between Ryan and me has changed. It's lighter, as if a rain cloud has just been lifted.
After a few hours of visiting with her and sharing some of my life over the past few years, we have to cut our visit short even when she begs us to stay the night. I tell her I need to be home tonight, so she packs us a bunch of food and gives me a pep talk on staying strong.
Tears fill my eyes as I say good-bye, but I promise to visit her again soon.
"I hate crying," I tell Ryan as he pulls away from her house and we head home.
"I don't cry," Ryan says. "Not since I was in seventh grade."
"I'm a crier," I admit. "Not all the time, but when I'm stressed out. Crying releases part of the stress." I glance at him sideways. "You should try it sometime."
"Are you sayin' I'm stressed?"
I laugh. "Yes."
"Yeah, you're right," he says.
"What do you want to do with your life, Ryan? Besides boxing," I ask.
He rests his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. "I don't know. I haven't really thought that far ahead." He hesitates and lets out a big breath. "It's not like I've got a lot of options."
"What about college? That's always an option."
"I'm not smart enough for college. My grades in school suck." He looks at me sideways. "Let me guess. You've got the whole ten-year plan figured out. After graduation go to college. Get a job as a surgeon. A few years after graduation, get married and have kids. Am I close?"
"I don't have a ten-year plan," I tell him, then smile sheepishly. "I'm going to be a heart surgeon, but to be honest it's not my dream."
"Whose is it?"
"My brother, Lucas."
"I didn't know you had brother."
"He died a few years ago. From a heart murmur." I pick at my nail. "All my plans have been dictated to me by my parents, and I'm too scared to protest because I don't want to see them in pain from missing my brother so much."
"I thought Mexicans were supposed to celebrate the dead."
"I do," I tell him. "In my own way. I never told you that Lucas and I used to sneak into my dad's car and listen to Shadows of Darkness. He'd crank it up so loud my eardrums would ring for days." I sigh. "I miss him."
"I think he'd want you to do what you want to do in life, not what he wanted to do."
I shrug. "You're probably right."
"If you could do anythin', what would you choose to do?"
"I guess I'd like to help needy children like this little boy I met at the town festival. Giving him money for food made me feel really alive and present."
"You're an amazing girl, you know that?"
It's not long before we're on the main highway, but when we encounter a portion that's closed and we're instructed by some highway patrolman to use a side road, I'm on alert. The patrolmen aren't in uniform and they're not acting normal. When I see a guy with a shotgun and what looks like a truck full of drugs behind one of the patrol cars I tell Ryan we have to turn around and take the back roads.
Rumors about the war between Las Calaveras and Los Reyes del Norte are fresh in my mind.
"I don't like driving on the back roads for too long," I say, watching out for cars in front of and behind us for any more suspicious activity. I just want to get as far away from the roadblock as possible.
"I don't like it either," he says, his voice echoing my deep concern.
Ryan grips the wheel as he drives at a fast pace through the desolate rolling hills with farms and open land on each side.
"This isn't known to be a dangerous area," I inform him. Most places are safe, but you can't always tell the bad guys from the good guys.
"I won't let anything happen to you, Dalila."
After driving for another half hour on the dusty back roads, he lightly brushes his hand on my arm, making my skin feel refreshed and alive. It feels so right being here with him on this journey. I couldn't have done it without him.
Just when I think we're out of danger, the engine starts to rev and the truck slows down.
"What the hell?" he says, pressing on the gas.
"What's going on?" I ask in a panic.
Ryan pulls off the side of the road as the truck comes to a complete stop without him even pressing on the brake. "I have no clue. We still have a quarter of a tank of gas, and we haven't blown a tire. I think it's overheated."
"Overheated? Oh no. I have to get back home tonight, Ryan. It's not safe for us to be stranded here."
Especially when there's nobody around to help us.
Twenty-Nine
Ryan
Just when I think my bad luck is behind me, something comes along to remind me that I can't escape from living under a black cloud.
I step out of the truck and examine the tires. They're perfectly fine. Popping the hood doesn't give me any more clues as to why the truck just stalled. The engine is definitely hot but not smoking.
Shit.
I check the fluid levels. They're fine. I check the wiring, wondering if the lines are melting in this hellish heat. They're all intact. The truck isn't old, so I don't know what the problem is. We're stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere.
"I guess it just overheated," I mumble as I sit back in the driver's seat, frustrated. "I'm not an automobile expert, but that's pretty much the only explanation."
Dalila sits up straight as if she's going to take control of the situation. "We need a plan."
"See if you can get cell reception," I tell her.
She lifts her cell in the air trying different locations, even holding her arm out the window. "None. Not even one bar."
"Let me try."
She hands me the phone and I walk down the road, keeping a close eye on our truck the entire time. This situation is putting me on edge. Staying in one place could make us a target for some vigilante who wants to start trouble. Mateo made me paranoid and Dalila's suspicion about her father makes her a target. It's better to be cautious than stupid.
No matter what I do or where I stand, Dalila's phone is completely out of range. It might as well be a brick at this point.
After a while I try starting the truck again. It's completely dead. I look at Dalila's furrowed brow and those full lips, which are now frowning. "Hey, it's okay. If we can't flag down a passing car to help, we can walk back to the highway and talk to one of the patrol officers who blocked the road. Maybe they can help."
"I don't want to do that," she says.
"What's going on, Dalila?"
She gives me a poor excuse for a smile. I don't buy it for one minute. "I'm just freaking out for no reason."
"Do you know somethin' I don't?" I ask, wondering if she's holding back cruc
ial information.
"No. I just want to get back before dinner."
Oh, yeah. Her dad is expecting her home. "He knows we went to see your grandmother. He'll probably think we stayed there overnight."
She looks straight ahead at the long stretch of gravel road in front of us. "Right."
We sit in the truck waiting for a car to drive by so we can flag it down, but after two hours we still haven't seen anyone. I try starting the truck four more times with no luck. It feels like we're on a deserted island. We're tired and hot.
She leans her head on my shoulder as I wrap my arm around her. "We can't just stay here," I tell her. "They might have reopened the main road already, so nobody would be takin' the side roads. We might not see people for a while."
"What should we do?" she asks.
"I think we should walk back to the highway and try to flag someone down. If nobody comes at least we can see if we can get cell reception and call Mateo to come get us."
"Ryan, I have to be honest with you about something." She looks pale. "Those guys who blocked the road weren't in uniform. I'm not sure they were legit."
I'm seriously confused now. "How do you know?"
She lets out a big sigh. "I don't know. I just have a weird feeling about it."
"Why didn't you say anythin' earlier?"
"Because if they realized we were suspicious, we could have been a target. I didn't want you to go into protective mode and give them a reason to stop us." She rubs my arm. "They weren't after us, but I don't want to go back there."
"Come on," I say, stepping out of the truck.
"Where are we going?"
"To hide the truck behind those boulders over there," I say, pointing to a patch of huge boulders ahead of us. "Get in the driver's seat and put the truck into neutral. I'll push, you steer." I look at the sky and realize the sun will be going down soon. "We'll stay in the truck tonight, then head out tomorrow on foot. Keep your phone off so it doesn't lose battery."
She clears her throat. "Ryan, can I talk to you for a second?"
She didn't tell me about the suspicious guys at the road block. What is she about to tell me now?
"My dad doesn't know I'm with you." I look down at her as she twists her long, curly hair around her fingers and adds, "And he thinks I slept at Demi's house last night."
"He's expecting you home for dinner tonight, right?"
"Yeah," she admits in a pained voice.
"Oh, great. So basically your dad doesn't know where you are, he might actually be involved in a major cartel, and when he finds out you lied to him he's going to freak the hell out."
"That's probably a correct assumption."
I can either worry about it, or just take it easy and try to fix things tomorrow. "You want to try and hike it all tonight?" I ask her.
She looks shocked. "You're not mad?"
I shake my head. "What good would it do to be mad at this point? I can't change our situation now, can I?"
"No, but I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. If you knew he was against me going to see Abuela Carmela, I was afraid you wouldn't take me. Or that you'd make me call Papa and get permission from him to go, which I knew wasn't going to happen. He'd make his newly hired bodyguards make sure I never left the house."
"Come here," I say, pulling her into an embrace. I'm not going to get mad or upset with her. We're a team now. When she's down I need to help pick her back up. I'm not going to be in a relationship with her just to break her down when things get tough. "We can walk down the back roads until we find a house with a phone or someone to drive us to a town so we can call Mateo."
"Why are you being so nice about it? I lied to you."
"We're in this together, Dalila. I'm not about to abandon you unless you want me to."
"Wow." She hugs me tight. "That's the coolest thing anyone's ever said to me. It's getting dark. Let's just do what you said. We can pull the truck behind those rocks for the night so we're not seen, then head out in the morning."
"You sure you're okay with the plan?" The thought of her strict father not knowing where she's sleeping tonight isn't going to go over well. "I can leave you in the truck and go find help."
She shakes her head vigorously. "You're not leaving me. No way."
It isn't long before the truck is hidden behind huge boulders and we're sitting on the bed of the truck watching the sunset. The air is finally cooling off. There's a howl in the distance that reminds us we're smack-dab in the middle of deserted land.
"It's peaceful here," I tell her as she lays her head in my lap with her hair splayed across my jeans. "I could live here," I say, stroking a soft blue curl between my fingers. "I mean, without the threat of the cartels or drug lords."
"My country isn't all filled with drug lords and cartels."
"I know. The news in the US makes it seem like Mexico is a war zone."
"News reports on Chicago feel the same to us. They make it look like a war zone there."
"I guess the news just shows certain parts that make good stories," I say.
She holds me tighter. "Let's build a house right here, Ryan. We'll have a bunch of kids and live off the land."
"A bunch of kids?" I ask. "How many is a bunch?"
There's a mischievous grin on her face as she sits up and says, "At least six. Eight at the most."
I start to choke. "Eight? How about three? That sounds like a good, even number."
"Three is not an even number, Ryan. Eight is."
As long as we're in fantasy land, I might as well give in to her delusions. "Okay, we'll have eight kids. We'll even have enough land here to build Abuela Carmela a new house."
"Don't forget my three sisters. We'll build them houses, too. One for each of them."
I can imagine everything in our fantasy as if it could one day become a reality. I'd have to add one thing. "We'd have to build a house for my mom, too. After sendin' her to rehab she could come live with us."
"Maybe she'll change when she gets older," Dalila tells me. She moves to sit on my lap facing me. I can't believe I tried to pretend my attraction to her and my feelings for her don't exist. Her perky nose rubs up against mine. "Everyone can change, Ryan. Even your mom." She holds my head in her hands. "But if she doesn't come around, we'll have each other. And our ten kids. We'll create our own loving family."
I hold a hand up. "Whoa, slow down. Did you just say ten kids?"
Her smile widens. I love that smile. "Maybe."
"If we're having ten kids, I think we better start practicing right now." I cup the back of her head and kiss her tenderly. She grabs at my shirt and moans as her tongue reaches out to meet mine. I'm going to lose it before we even start.
Truth is, I can imagine spending the rest of my life with this crazy, amazing girl who holds too many secrets and keeps me on my toes. I don't know what to expect next, and I don't completely trust her.
And despite all that, I'm falling for her.
She breaks our kiss and, still straddling me, lifts my T-shirt that she's been wearing all day over her head. Her fingers go to the front hook of her sexy lace bra and she releases the material, making me feel like the luckiest guy on the planet. It falls down her shoulders revealing her full, perfect breasts. I swallow and my breathing gets ragged as her hands reach for my zipper.
"Ryan," she whispers into my ear. "Let's pretend tonight is the last night of our lives. Okay?"
Usually I don't play pretend.
But tonight I'm all in.
Thirty
Dalila
We didn't sleep much for the second night in a row, but I don't care. It's nice to see Ryan's face in such a peaceful slumber. Last night I gave him everything I have--my heart, my soul, and my body.
I hold him tight against me, never wanting to let him go. I'm nervous about what'll happen when I get home. I know Papa will be beyond angry. I'll just have to make him listen to me and let him know that I needed to go see Abuela Carmela even though he forbade it.
I don't know where my father's loyalties lie. Is he like those highway officers, putting on a facade?
There are so many more good people in Mexico than bad. If we all rise up against the violence, we can fight it. I know some people are manipulated and forced to join gangs with the threat of their lives being taken away. Or worse, their families' lives. Would I join a gang to protect my sisters' lives? I don't know. I'd let someone kill me before I'd take another life. But if I had to kill someone to save Margarita's life . . . or the twins . . .
I can't even think about it.
Truth is, I'd die for my family. I look over at Ryan. I'd die for him, too.
But would I kill to protect them? Tears stain my eyes because so many unfortunate people in my country are faced with that very scenario. It's not a show on TV; it's reality. For some it's life or death. It's kill or be killed.
I shiver just thinking about it.
"You cold?" Ryan asks as he pulls me closer to him, his voice all deep and groggy from sleep.
"I'm okay." I kiss him and watch as his lips turn into a sleepy grin.
I lay my head on his chest and watch the sun starting to rise. I know we were just joking last night about living here, having kids and a future together. But I could see us being happy without the added stress of the outside world.
"What're you thinkin' about?"
"Nothing." I sink into the warmth of his palm. "Just wishing things were different."
A worried look crosses his face. "Last night?"
"No! Not that!" I remember the look of adoration on his face as we explored and loved each other. It was special and beautiful. I'll cherish the memory forever.
"I want you to know somethin', Dalila." He looks across the horizon. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, and maybe I'm a fool, but I don't even care. Whatever you ask of me, if it's in my power I'll do it."
"And whatever you ask of me, if it's in my power I'll do it."
The sun is coming up now. "We should head out," he says, sitting up. "Let me just lock the truck, get our bags, and then we can go. I'll try the car one more time and see if the engine cooled off enough to go or if it's completely dead. If it's dead, are you ready to do some major trekking today?"
Not really, but it's the only way we're going to get home and face my papa. From the ground I pick up a black rock that resembles a heart. "Here," I say, handing him the rock. "It's for good luck." He climbs into the truck.