“C’mon up.” He looked at me apologetically. “If it’s not important I’ll throw his ass out of here.”
“No worries,” I said, smoothing my clothing.
Seconds later, X’s broad, athletic frame darkened the doorway. He pounded fists with Ortiz, stopping short when he saw me. A smile came to his lips, but he quickly put it away. “Hi, Maddie.”
“Hey, X.”
He turned to Ortiz. “Don’t mean to interrupt. Got a minute?”
“Of course.”
X helped himself to a soda from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Ortiz joined him. I figured it was best if I kept my distance and let them talk, so I stayed on the futon.
“Found her,” X said. “Miami Gardens. I spent the last couple of nights doing my sketches on the main drag. Talked to a guy who knew a guy.”
“Reyes?”
“Yeah. Name’s Sergio. He has her walk the streets and tails her in an SUV. He’s got two or three girls out there at the same time.”
“Snatch-up?”
X nodded. “I’m picking Rubio up in twenty minutes. He’ll grab her, then we’ll drive her out to her parents’.”
“Think she’ll go quietly?”
“She wants to go home, trust me.”
I wondered how X could know that, but Ortiz didn’t question him. They seemed to understand each other beyond words.
I glanced at the artwork on the wall and back at X. He was a paradox if I’d ever seen one. He looked like a tough-as-nails jock, but he created beautiful art. And he was putting his energy into helping girls he’d never met. I understood why Ortiz did it, but what about him?
X got up and went to the door. “Later, Lobo. Maddie.” And then he was gone. Ortiz came over to me. “He calls these things like a pro. It’ll go well.”
“You don’t need to go with them?”
He shook his head. “A snatch-up is a two person job. X is in charge of this one.”
“How’d you find out about this girl?”
“She ran away from home four months ago. Was really messed up by her parents’ divorce. Her family’s been all over Miami with flyers. X got one from her father.”
“So X uses his street art as a way to watch what’s going on out there? Seems like an interesting guy. I’d love to know his story.”
“I wish I could tell you, but it’s his story, not mine. You could ask him sometime.”
“I don’t want to pry. Just tell me one thing: why does he call himself X?”
Ortiz gave a grudging smile. “That’s how I know you’re a great reporter. You ask the only question worth asking.”
GONE
I GOT MOM’S TEXT WEDNESDAY AT LUNCH.
Boyd signed the papers. Hallelujah!
“What’s making you smile like that?” Iz asked, drowning her chef’s salad in dressing. “Did Ortiz send you a selfie?”
“The divorce is final.” I closed my eyes, taking it in. It was really over. The deed was done, the goods were split, and most important, Dex was ours.
Iz side-hugged me. “Hooray!”
“Maybe I’ll make Mom a special drink for the occasion: a Divorcée’s Daiquiri?”
Iz looked over my shoulder as I texted Mom back.
I’m taking you out for dinner to celebrate!
“Wanna come with?” I asked her.
“I thought you were seeing your man tonight.”
“Not till later. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Can’t. Eric and Julia are coming over.”
My mouth fell open. “Julia, too? Was it a package deal?”
She sighed. “Look, I’m not her biggest fan, but I know I was a bitch to her and I’m trying to make amends. Besides, Eric made me invite her.”
I smirked. “I thought you didn’t take orders from a guy.”
“He’s blood. And he’s always stood by me. So I’m gonna make an effort with Julia. Now, where are you taking your mom?”
“I have to figure that out. Somewhere with good-looking men where she can be excited to be single.”
“You have to choose the right place, then,” she said between crunches of salad. “What type of guy is she into?”
“She’s done with losers. Anything else she’s open to.”
Iz put down her fork and picked up her phone. “I’m texting Aunt Maria. She knows the single scene, honey.”
Iz’s aunt got back to her within minutes with a list of suggestions, organized by types of men. For slick businessmen and hardnosed lawyers, Juanita’s. For working-class sports fans, Raoul’s Crab Shack. For the wealthy South Beach business owners, try the Town Grill. In the end, I chose Raoul’s. Mom didn’t need a guy who thought he was hot shit. She needed a kind, reliable guy who could put in an honest day’s work.
Raoul’s Crab Shack was a Cuban restaurant with a bustling patio. Iz’s aunt Maria was right on—there were lots of ringless men around, some of them still carrying their orange construction vests. As Mom sipped her mojito, she glanced at the men with interest, which gave me hope.
I tried to convince her to go up to the bar to order a drink, but she said that would be too obvious. I bet she would have if she had another drink in her and were here with a girlfriend, not me.
Even though I wasn’t drinking, I was borderline giddy, and so was she. We laughed like we hadn’t laughed in a long time. The weight of Boyd had been lifted from us. The best part was that we didn’t even mention his name. It was as if we’d both agreed that he didn’t deserve one more moment of our time. We’d given him enough already.
After dinner, Mom and I got in separate cabs—Mom’s heading for home, mine heading for Ortiz’s. I had a feeling she was going home to start a profile on a dating website, something I’d been trying to convince her to do for months.
Ortiz wasn’t waiting for me outside, since I was twenty minutes early. I buzzed his apartment, but there was no answer, so I sat on the front step and sent him a text. It was Wednesday night, so he was probably boxing with Eric at the gym. I wasn’t comfortable sitting there, though, and it had nothing to do with the hard concrete step under my butt. The neighborhood was beyond sketchy. Shady men walked by, eyeing me with a little too much interest. Stick-thin girls cruised the street looking for johns.
As the minutes passed, I started to wonder if he’d forgotten that I was coming over. I texted him again and waited.
When a female resident left the building, I caught the door behind her. I debated getting into the elevator, but decided not to. It was the old, tiny type that I wouldn’t risk without a day’s supply of food and water. So I walked up the four flights of stairs instead.
As I approached the door to his apartment, I noticed that it was slightly open.
A feeling of dread rolled over me.
Ortiz always double-locked the door. True, he’d been expecting me. But he couldn’t have thought I’d get into the building without him answering the buzzer.
My instincts were going off like a smoke alarm. I knew what Ortiz would say to do in this situation: Get out of there.
But I couldn’t do that.
My heart thudded in my chest as I eased the door open. I walked in, careful not to make a sound on the hardwood.
I held my breath.
It looked like a tornado had blown through the room. There were splatters of blood on the floor.
He was gone.
I felt my knees buckle.
They’d taken him.
BLOOD
THERE WAS NO TIME TO BREAK DOWN. I had to think.
Ortiz was alive. He had to be. And that meant I could still help him.
X. I had to call X.
His number was already in my phone. Because I’d been afraid of this.
I called the number. It rang and rang and—
“Who’s this?” X answered. He sounded like he was in his car.
“It’s Maddie. I’m at Lobo’s. He’s gone. And there’s blood.”
“Wait there. I’m ten minutes away.” He hung up.
X was coming. That was good.
I slowly moved around the apartment. Shock, I realized, was when you kept the emotions at bay and functioned anyway. The futon was opened into a bed, and messy, as if he’d been sleeping when they came. His laptop was upside down on the floor. In the struggle, someone must’ve slammed into the bookshelf, because books were scattered all over the place.
X appeared minutes later. He scanned the room. “I’m going to the safe house. You’d better come with me.”
We flew down the stairs to his car. He floored the gas. He drove so fast I had to work against its momentum to put on my seat belt.
“Is there someone I can call at the safe house—to warn them?” I asked.
“I called,” he said. “No one’s answering.”
“Oh my God. What do you think is happening?”
“I think we’re in trouble.”
X drove scary fast, and yet he had total control, maneuvering the car like it was an extension of himself. He also knew the right places to slow down, where cops were waiting for speeders.
“We’re gonna get to Ortiz, but I need you to think,” he said. “There’s been a leak somewhere. And our best chance at finding Ortiz in time is to trace back where it came from.”
It took me a second to register that he thought the leak came through me. That was why he’d taken me with him, I realized.
“I didn’t tell anyone about him. I would never risk it.”
“Someone must’ve suspected.”
My stomach fell. Oh my God, could it be?
“My friend Iz suspected,” I told him. “But I can’t believe she’d tell anyone.”
“Call her.”
I did.
She answered, “Hey Maddie, what’s up?”
“Iz, listen to me. I need to ask you something very important. You know how you wondered if Ortiz was Lobo? I need to know if you told anyone.”
“What? What are you—Eric, turn it down for a sec. It’s Maddie and she’s freaking out about something. Sorry, what?”
“You must’ve told someone that you thought Ortiz was Lobo,” I said. “Who did you tell?”
“Huh? I didn’t tell anyone. What’s happening, Maddie? Is Ortiz in trouble?”
“Think, Iz, for fuck’s sake. Who did you tell?”
“I told you, I didn’t tell anyone. You’d have to be crazy to spread a rumor like that! Wait a minute—are you saying I was right?”
“No. Someone just got the wrong idea about him. Gotta go.”
I hung up. “It wasn’t her.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah.” Iz wasn’t the leak, I was positive. Even though we’d had our problems, she wouldn’t have betrayed my secret about Lobo helping me the night of the attack. And she never would’ve started a rumor about Ortiz knowing it could get him killed.
When we got to the safe house, X ran inside. I hurried in after him, through the door and down the stairs, and stopped dead.
X was bent over Rubio, who was crumpled on the floor. A pool of blood spread out under him.
Kelsey was curled up on the couch, sobbing. I went to her.
“Are you okay, Kelsey? What happened?”
“He h-held them off while Felix got the girls out.” Her lip was bloodied and half of her face was swollen. “They sh-shot him.” She balled herself up tighter, tucking her head into her knees.
“We’ll get you to a hospital,” I told her. “You’ll be all right.”
X stood up, staring down at Rubio. He looked at me, and I knew that Rubio was dead.
“Paramedics are on their way,” he said, putting away his phone. “They’ll take care of her. We need to go talk to your friend, Manny Soto.”
“Manny? But—”
“He used to be one of Salazar’s guys.” His blue eyes were icy. “He’s our best chance at finding Ortiz.”
Minutes later, we pulled up in front of Manny’s house.
X said, “I’ll stay here. Bring him outside. Make him think you’re alone.”
I hesitated. X didn’t plan to hurt Manny, did he? Of course not. X knew that we needed Manny’s help to find Ortiz. “All right.”
I rang the doorbell. A hairy man in a wifebeater answered the door. “Hey mamacita. You here for my boy?”
I nodded. “I need to talk to him.”
The man called out, “Manuel, a girlie is here!”
Manny came bounding down the stairs in a T-shirt and shorts. He looked more like a gangly teen than an ex-con. Not at all like someone who’d once been in the Reyes.
Manny could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t like I’d ever showed up at his place before. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s talk outside.”
We went out to the porch. The night air was humid, suffocating, like a wet blanket.
“Ortiz was taken by the Reyes.”
Manny’s eyes went big. “Why? What’d he do?”
“He’s Lobo, the head of the Destinos.”
His mouth opened in shock. “You’ve gotta be . . .” He didn’t bother to finish.
“I need to find out where he is. I know you were one of them once.”
Manny didn’t deny it. “If your boyfriend is Lobo . . .” He was shaking his head. “God, I’m sorry. I really am. But there’s nothing you can do for him.”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t act like he’s dead already.”
Manny plunked down on a chair, head in his hands. “He might not be. But it would take the national guard to get to him. I don’t know how many Destinos there are, but they wouldn’t have a prayer of getting him out.”
“So you know where Salazar’s holding him.”
“Yeah, that’s how I know it’s impossible. Anyone who goes in is not coming out. I know Salazar and his guys, Diaz. They’re evil.”
“I don’t care what they are. We’re going to get Ortiz out of there.”
His head shot up. “Well, you fucking should care. They won’t take pity on you because you’re a girl. I can’t let you walk into that.”
“Then let me walk into it,” said another voice. X emerged from the shadows, holding a switchblade. “You have five seconds before I shove this under your ribs.”
Manny didn’t seem afraid. “Not if you’re taking her with you.” There was a hollow, inevitable note in his voice.
“I won’t take her with me,” X said. “I don’t need her. What I need is a location.” He took several steps closer to Manny. “Five, four, three . . .”
X was bluffing. He had to be. But as he stalked toward Manny, suddenly I wasn’t so sure. “X, stop it. He’s going to help us. Right, Manny?”
“Fuck.” Manny rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s Brown’s Airport. There’s a warehouse. Salazar’s been holing up there the past couple months. It used to store airplane parts and shit but it’s been abandoned since the nineties. The place is like a fortress. He’s been using it on and off for years.”
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
Manny nodded. “I stay informed. Still got buddies who are Reyes.”
I looked at X. “We’ll pick up Felix and . . .”
“No,” X said, cutting me off. “Your friend’s right about one thing. It’s not a job we can do. We don’t have an arsenal of machine guns. There’s only one person who can help us.”
I didn’t know who he meant, but Manny did, because he barked a laugh. “Good fucking luck. His guys will slit your throat before you even get near him.”
“But they won’t slit hers,” X countered.
Manny’s eyes bugged out. “You said you’d keep her out of it!”
“It’s the only way. If he’ll trust anyone, it’ll be her.”
Manny jumped to his feet, advancing on X. “I’ll kill you.”
X shrugged. “Trust me, Soto. If anything happens to her, Ortiz will do it for you.”
“What are we talking about?” I demande
d.
“El Chueco,” Manny said tightly. “Your Destino friend here wants to feed you to the lion.”
El Chueco. The head of the cartel.
It took me several seconds to process it. Now that we knew Salazar’s location, we could give El Chueco what he wanted most: a chance to kill Salazar.
“I’ll do it,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll go to him.”
“So your plan is to stroll up to El Chueco and try to cut a deal with him?” Manny said, incredulous. “El Chueco could do worse than kill you. Don’t you get that?”
“El Chueco has four daughters,” X said. “Word is he has a soft spot for women. He mostly keeps them out of the line of fire.”
“A cartel head with a code?” Manny said. “You’ve got to be kidding. Maddie, you want to take that risk?”
“Yes.” I’d risk whatever I had to for Ortiz. “Do you know where to find him?” I asked X.
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
As we headed to the car, Manny ran after us, grabbing my arm. I thought it was to pull me away, but instead he went in front of me, sliding into the backseat. “I’m coming with you.”
CROOKED
DON’T THINK. DON’T FEAR. JUST SURVIVE THIS. For Ortiz.
I had to focus on one thing: the moment I’d have him in my arms again. Nothing between this moment and then mattered.
X drove, a maestro of the roads. He knew where he was going and it took him all of twenty minutes to get there. The city lights were long behind us.
We came to the Palmeras, a glitzy resort with tall fountains shooting up from an enormous blue pool. It was the cream of the industry, Mom had once told me, the only six-star hotel this side of the Atlantic. I wondered if the owners knew they were favored by a Mexican cartel.
“High security here. Valet parking. I have to drop you off.” X pulled to the side of the road a few yards from the entrance. It was a huge archway that reminded me of MGM Studios.
“We’ll wait for you here,” X said. “Now go to the front desk and ask for Mr. Crooks. He’ll send someone down. That’s when you’ll have to make your case to see him.”
“What am I going to say to El Chueco?” Between the pounding of my heart and the engine of the car, I wasn’t sure I’d hear his answer.
On the Edge Page 16
