Dalila has to be right.
Don Sandoval is connected to Los Reyes del Norte. If he's the head of the cartel, it makes perfect sense to frame me for Rico's death. It takes the big, fat target off of his back and puts it on mine.
When a bird flies over us I notice the sun is rising higher in the sky. I'm tired but determined to get Dalila to a safe place tonight so she doesn't have to sleep on another fucking boulder. I want to protect her so damn bad, but there's no denying we're both in danger. If Las Calaveras cartel thinks I killed one of their own and stole money from their crooked Loveland sheriff who is being paid to look the other way, they'll shoot first and ask questions later.
Actually, they'll likely torture me first without asking questions.
Meeting up with Don Sandoval or anyone from Los Reyes del Norte won't be any better. I'll definitely end up six feet under if either cartel finds me. And if they don't get me, the Mexican police will likely shoot me or arrest me for allegedly murdering Rico.
"Buenos dias," Dalila says, stretching. "Did you get some sleep?"
"Yeah," I lie.
She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. Why isn't she afraid of being with me out in the wilderness without any luxuries? No shelter, no food, no hope.
As she sits up, she wraps her arms around herself and shivers.
"You're cold."
"I'm fine."
I can see the goose bumps on her arms. "Come here," I say, pulling her close and rubbing her arms to keep her warm. I notice her eyes are still bloodshot and irritated from crying last night.
"I'm sorry," I tell her.
"I'm going to stay strong," she tells me. "We're going to figure something out. We'll get out of this situation."
"I think I know why your dad framed me. I think it was to take the target off his back. It's the only explanation."
She perks up. "What if I talk to Papa and . . ." She hangs her head low. "I can't do that. I don't ever want to see him again after what he did. I swear the past month he's been a different man than I've ever seen before. Ever since he started representing Santiago Vega."
I convince Dalila that we need to head to Abuela Carmela's house as soon as possible. As we're walking I'm all too aware of our surroundings. We're in a deserted area, but every once in a while we come upon small farm communities. Families with goats and chickens farm their land while their children play in the yards. Most people smile and wave as we pass them. I'm careful to keep a jovial gait, hoping they just see us as typical foreign backpackers walking through their towns instead of two weary, suspicious teens.
Each time we pass one of the small farm communities without causing suspicion, Dalila lets out a sigh of relief.
About two hours into our trek, Dalila slips off her shoes and I notice she's got blisters on her feet. The sight of them makes something sting inside me.
"We need to take a break," I tell her.
"No. Let's keep going. We have to keep going." I don't want to admit she resembles Cinderella before the fairy godmother showed up. Her legs are dirty and her face is solemn.
"You've got blisters."
She keeps on walking. "I'm not the delicate girl you think I am. I'm not the first person to have blisters, and I won't be the last. I'm tough, okay? My emotions might be a mess, but blisters are nothing."
"How are you gonna walk when the brutal Mexican sun heats the ground in another hour?"
"I'll figure it out." Her stomach lets out a loud growl. "We're going to need food at some point."
As soon as she says it, I spot a lone chicken running in the distance. At least I think it's a chicken. Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, which is entirely possible due to lack of sleep.
"That wasn't a chicken, was it?"
Dalila nods. "That was a chicken."
We run after it as if our lives depend on it. It runs over a little hill and I chase it, dust flying behind me, until I reach the other side of the hill and freeze in my tracks. "There's a house." I motion for Dalila to follow me. "It looks abandoned."
It's the very definition of a shack. Four walls and a roof, but that's about it. At this moment a doghouse would feel like a palace to me.
"You think it's safe?" she asks with a worried look on her face.
"We haven't seen anyone for miles." I look up at the sun. "We need shelter. I'm game if you are."
She nods. "We can do this."
I make her stay back while I scout out the shack. As I open the door and peek inside, it's obvious the place hasn't been occupied in quite some time. Dust has settled in just about every corner. There's a table and chairs that look like they've seen better days. The rest of the furniture is scattered throughout the tiny structure, as if someone hastily abandoned it and never intended on returning.
Dalila and I spend the remainder of the day indoors. I try to chat with her about nothing and everything just to get her mind off what happened yesterday.
It takes me a long time and a great amount of frustration, but I finally catch the lone chicken. I feel sorry for it, because it kinda reminds me of myself . . . a loner without a chance of survival.
But I'm not alone.
I have Dalila, a girl with a heart so big she's willing to risk everything to be with me. I think I'm just about the luckiest guy on the planet to have a girl like her by my side. I don't deserve her, but I sure am glad she doesn't realize it.
Inside, Dalila sets the table as if a small chicken is a feast fit for a king.
I build a fire out back with some old matches I find in the shack and cook the chicken. "If I had some barbeque sauce or spices I bet it'd taste good and mask the charred flavor," I say lamely as I bring the thing inside.
She stares at the chicken with a cocked brow. "I like my chicken well done," she assures me, but I know differently as she pulls apart the leg and takes a small bite. I could watch her all day and never get tired of discovering the little quirks she has. Like when she doesn't like something, her lips purse just the slightest bit. Or when she wants to laugh hard but restrains herself, she covers her mouth with her hand.
I could find a thousand things to admire about her, and that'd be just the beginning.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks.
"Besides the fact that you're beautiful? You're eatin' that chicken in such dainty pieces you'd think we were at a formal ball." I grab a piece of meat off the carcass and show her how it's done.
She shakes her head. "You look like a caveman."
"At this point I might as well be one."
She laughs, the sound a welcome change from the grim mood we've both had since yesterday. I haven't heard her laugh since we left her house. I know even though she's in her own hell right now that she's worrying about taking some of my misery away. Her smile might brighten up this dingy, dark, abandoned place, but our situation is still hopeless.
After we eat, we're so exhausted from walking in the heat and sun that we lie down on the old couch together.
She wraps her arms around me and I hold her close. She's still got that sweet smell of wildflowers and her lips are soft and welcoming. It isn't long before she settles her head on my chest. The sound of her slow breathing lulls me to sleep. It's been a long day and I don't reckon tomorrow will be any better.
"I love you, Ryan," she whispers as I fall into a deep slumber.
Her words echo through my brain and seep into my soul. For her own safety I'll have to give her up soon, even though I'd sell my soul to feel this content forever. For the moment, though, I let myself enjoy it.
Forty-Two
Dalila
When the morning sun shines through the windows, we know it's time to leave. As much as I'd like to stay in this cabin, I know we have to keep moving and cover our tracks.
After packing up our stuff, we trek past the grassy plains near the cabin and enter the harsh, rocky landscape. "You haven't talked much this morning," I say to Ryan. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No. Not at all. I ju
st wish things were different."
"Me too." I manage a small, tremulous smile.
"I hate seeing you so sad." He takes my hand and pulls me into the circle of his arms. With a dip of his head, he kisses me tenderly and my heart turns over in response. "We'll get through this. I promise." After kissing me on my nose, Ryan points to a hill in the distance and is back to the task at hand. "Let's head that way to avoid the main road."
I nod. "I agree. Staying out of sight is best."
Ryan takes my hand and we continue our trek toward Abuela Carmela's house. The strength of his grip gives me an amazing sense of calm.
It isn't long before I hear a car in the distance. It's coming closer and I tense up. "Ryan . . ."
As if he knows what I'm about to say, he leads me up a dirt hill and we hide behind a big spiky bush. He shields me as the car passes.
Ryan's face is tense as he takes my hand again. "Come on, we better keep movin'."
We rush through the mountains, stopping each time there's a boulder to hide behind and looking into the distance for any sign of trouble. I can feel the stress of today radiating off him.
I sense his hesitation. "There's somethin' I haven't shared with you." He stops and pulls me back to face him. "I stole money from my stepfather. A lot of it."
"When?"
"A few days ago. I'm almost certain it was bribe money." He combs his hand through his hair as his face turns stoic. "Or maybe it was to turn the other way when there was a hit on one of the border patrol cops in Loveland."
"Wow." I step back, because my brain needs time to process this. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"I didn't know how to tell you. I took a little for emergency cash and the rest is being divided."
"Divided?"
"Remember my friend Pablo? You met him the night of the Shadows of Darkness concert."
I nod.
"Well, I left Pablo instructions. Most of the money goes to Max Trieger's family. He was investigating Las Calaveras and died because of it. My stepfather is taking bribes from Las Calaveras so it's only fair his family receives some of it."
"And the rest of the money?" I question.
"Let's just say it's called a power play. In boxing, if you're not the favorite you have to figure out a way to beat your opponent even though the odds are stacked against you. And make no mistake about it, Dalila, the odds are stacked against me. Come on," he says. "Let's keep movin'." He hesitates, then takes Mateo's cell phone out of his pocket. "Unless you want me to call the cops and turn myself in. I'll do that for you."
"No! You're not calling the cops. We'll figure something out, Ryan. I promise."
He doesn't seem convinced, but I'll come up with a plan to right all the wrongs.
We keep winding through the mountains, hoping there's no way anyone can spot us. Ryan doesn't seem concerned for himself, even as sweat soaks his T-shirt. He keeps asking me if I need a break or if I'm hungry.
We're both highly sensitive to every sound and movement to make sure we're not spotted or followed.
The sound of an engine startles me and Ryan immediately pulls me down. "Someone's comin'," he says as he helps me crawl to the nearest boulder. We stay silent and still as a white truck drives across the barren land, dust kicking up behind it.
The truck stops and two guys get out. They scan the horizon as if they're looking for something and I hold my breath and pray.
What if we're caught?
I can't lose Ryan, not now when we've just found each other. Our connection is getting stronger every minute we're together. He must feel it too. I can sense the emotions he's experiencing like they're my own.
The guys focus their attention on the ground. "They're checking for tracks," Ryan tells me.
The sound of a rattle startles me. I look down. Right next to my shoe is a rattlesnake.
"Stay still," Ryan instructs. He slowly bends down and grabs a long, forked stick from the ground as I hold my breath. "Now back up slowly."
I do as instructed, careful to keep the boulder between me and the truck. Ryan holds down the snake until we move away from it. Finally the snake slithers away. We stay hidden for a long time, even after the truck and the snake are out of sight.
I can tell there's a change in Ryan's demeanor. He's completely silent and when I ask him questions he gives me one-word answers.
As the sun starts to set, we head out once again.
"What's wrong, Ryan?" I ask. "You haven't said a word for the past two hours."
"What's wrong is I let you come with me. Look!" he says, holding his arms out wide. I can feel his frustration. "Look around us, Dalila. I put you in danger and I've set you on this course that could only lead to us runnin' like animals for the rest of our lives. You don't deserve that."
"I don't have anywhere else to go, Ryan. I can handle this rough spot in our lives."
"Rough spot? Baby, you're delusional. Havin' an argument about what movie to go see is a rough spot. Forgettin' a birthday or anniversary is a rough spot. This . . . this is a nuclear attack on your life! What happened at your house is a complete and utter breakdown of everything you know and everything that you are."
The truth hits me hard, but it's not because of what Ryan just said. It's what he's not saying that makes me love him more. "You haven't asked me to fix this," I mumble.
"You can't fix it."
But I can. "The only person who was with you when the shots rang out is me. I'm your alibi. You could ask me to go to the police to tell them the truth about everything."
"You can't do that."
He doesn't say it, but I have to. "Because it'll make me implicate my father as Rico's murderer."
"They probably wouldn't believe you. They'll think I've somehow brainwashed you. I'm a foreigner here and your father is very powerful. I'll figure out somethin'." He gazes across the horizon. "But first we need to get you food and water. I've got enough money if we find a place to eat."
Walking all day is exhausting, and tripping on rocks in the dark isn't pleasant, but I keep up a quick pace so we can get as far away as possible from whoever was in the white truck. Night falls and I feel a sense of security under the cloak of darkness.
As if by some miracle, twinkling lights in the distance catch my eye. I grab Ryan's arm and shake it as if I've just spotted a pot of gold. "Look! There's a town up ahead," I cry out. "See the lights?"
We're both dehydrated and weak. With renewed energy, we rush toward the town. I'm not familiar with it, but then again these little towns in the mountains are so out of the way that it's not unusual for them to go unnoticed.
But as we get closer, it's clear that it's not a small town in the middle of the desert. It's a small, exclusive four-star hotel called Estrella.
"We can't go in there," I tell him.
"Call and ask if they have a room available for tonight," he tells me. He pulls out Mateo's phone and hands it to me. After a little searching, I get their number and book a room under the last name Reyes. We wait awhile in the parking lot, then walk into the hotel as if we belong here.
The teenage girl at the front desk hardly looks at us when we enter the lobby. She doesn't even flinch when Ryan pays for the room with American dollars.
Ten minutes later we're in a big, fancy hotel room with plush towels and a bed so soft I feel like I could sink into it. After making sure every door and window is locked and all curtains are closed, shielding us from the outside, Ryan calls room service and they deliver steaming-hot platters of carne and vegetables.
My mouth is watering just thinking about the spread in front of us.
"I should feel guilty," I say as I savor every flavorful bite. "But I can't."
After downing four bottled waters and ordering another four, we scarf down our food as if we're not going to eat another meal for a while. By the end, we're both stuffed and fall onto the bed.
"We can't be in this bed together, Ryan," I tell him as I stare up at the ceiling fan above us. "Not li
ke this."
"Like what?"
"We're both dirty." I take his hand, because I don't want to go anywhere without him. "Come shower with me."
Forty-Three
Ryan
I look at the girl standing in front of me, this girl who's risking everything just to be by my side. Her usually shiny hair is messed up and dull from our journey. She's wearing ripped, dirty shorts paired with a top that's seen better days. Her cheek has a streak of dirt on it from sleeping on the boulder two nights ago. She's a hot mess.
And she still takes my breath away.
I realize at this moment that I'd love nothing better than to take a shower with her. I should run right out that door and never look back, because the more time I spend with her the more I don't want to let her go. I'm just torturing myself at this point.
"Wherever you go, I go." Dalila leans in close and kisses me. Man, I could kiss her forever and never get tired of it. "Make me forget reality, Ryan," she whispers when she pulls back the slightest bit. "Make me forget the world outside this room exists."
I never knew I could feel this way about another person. When she looks up at me, the love reflected in her eyes is enough to make me want to shelter her until the end of our days.
There's desire reflected in Dalila's eyes too, but I can't help but notice the sadness that the events of the past two days have inflicted upon her. She wants me to make her forget the outside world. I'm going to do everything in my power to make that happen.
I turn the shower on. Steam quickly fills the room and our eyes cling to each other's. She's leaning against the tile wall and her dark, smoldering eyes roam down to where my body is reacting all on its own. She swallows, hard.
"You undress first, Mr. America," she says. I can almost feel her pulse beat harder and faster as the words leave her mouth.
"Don't you want to make out first?"
She shakes her head. "No."
The side of my mouth quirks up as I slip my T-shirt over my head. I work hard on being fit, but the appreciation showing on Dalila's face as her eyes roam over my chest and abs makes me feel like I'm superhuman.
I place my hands on the zipper of my jeans and pause. I want to make sure she's present in this moment and isn't worrying or thinking about anything else but what's happening in this room. I can feel her eagerness as the seconds tick by.
Crossing the Line Page 22
