Flee (25 page)

Mateo

This had to be the longest
fútbol
game of my life. I stood slightly in front of their defender, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I could tell my body wasn't getting enough oxygen. I was gasping in as much air as I could without being too conspicuous, but it seemed to get stuck between my mouth and lungs, not quite giving me what I needed, leaving me weak and dizzy and confused.

Crap. I hated being sick, and I had no time for it now. I squeezed my eyes and tried to concentrate on Blake. She was a dark blur to my right. I couldn't quite focus on her. She turned her head toward me and started to move my way. I straightened and waved her off. Hector had held up his hand to indicate five more minutes an eternity ago. Surely this was almost over. I needed to get Blake out of here quickly when it ended. I needed to breathe. This macabre game, with her potential killers less than fifteen feet from her, had taken on a dreamlike feel for me. Or maybe nightmare was more like it.

I tried to focus on the three Santa Muerte players. They moved like rapid blurs on the field. I kept losing them. I needed to breathe. The ball was in the air now, flying across the field like a comet. I could see tattoo boy number two running to receive it, his skull face mocking me, his angel wings giving him flight. I tried to move toward him, to angle myself in between him and Blake, but my legs were encased in cement. I opened my mouth to scream a warning and caught myself just in time, shaking my head to clear the hallucination. I needed to breathe. It was all I could concentrate on. Dark spots were dancing in front of my eyes now.

Screw this game. I turned toward Blake, about to call out to her that we needed to go, now, when I saw she had the ball and was dribbling in to take a shot. Someone was coming up fast behind her. Too fast. Adreneline coursed through my body, bringing with it much needed air and clarity. Tattoo boy number one was at her heels, the look on his face murderous. Blake seemed unaware, her concentration complete. She took a perfect shot with her left leg, and the ball soared through the air toward the goal. I could just see in my peripheral vision the keeper leap to try to stop the ball, but my focus was on Blake and the defender at her back. I was running, but I knew I would be too late to stop him.

He slammed into her with all the force he had. I watched in horror as she flew forward, her head striking the side bar of the goal so hard that the whole goal shook. She hit the turf, and her head took a bounce before the defender landed on top of her. I was to them now. With a roar, I grabbed tattoo boy number one and threw him away from her. Before he even landed, I turned back to Blake. Blood gushed from the left side of her head.

Spots were dancing in front of my eyes again. I realized the sound I heard was my own gasping. I reached for Blake, but couldn't find her. The spots had grown, encompassing all of my vision, and now I couldn't see anything. I needed to breathe. Where was Hector? Someone had to help Blake. Curse my lungs and their stupid need for air. Someone had to help Blake. The blackness before my eyes invaded my head and I felt myself fall. If I could just get some air…

****

I hated hospitals. And I'd never felt so impatient and restless in my life. Or embarrassed, because I also hated being taken care of, and now it seemed I had a whole harem of nurses surrounding me, taking my blood pressure, checking my temperature, counting my pulse rate… At least that ridiculous oxygen mask had been removed. Although I had to admit, it hadn't seemed ridiculous at the time. I had needed the air, had been practically gasping for breath when I had become aware it was attached to me. I didn't remember much after throwing that guy off of Blake…

Blake. I was desperate to see her. My last image of her was been lying on the ground unconscious, blood streaming from the side of her head. I'd gone a little crazy, picking up the guy who had deliberately driven her head into that pole and throwing him as hard as I could, wishing he would land on his neck. Maybe he
had
landed on his neck. I wished I knew. I wished I knew anything. Where was everyone? How was Blake? Where was Blake? Where was anyone? I had been here for thirty minutes and no news from anyone. Just three different nurses and one doctor, in and out of the room. Prodding. Sticking. Questioning. I hated feeling helpless and trapped. Neither were emotions I had much experience with.

At least I could breathe now. A breathing treatment and two injections of medications I didn't even ask about had helped. As had the fluids, pumping into my arm through an IV. I suppose I was thankful for that. If I could breathe and feel a little better, I could protect Blake better. Where was she? I wanted out of here. I looked at the nurse writing on my chart in the corner of the room.

“Could I borrow your cell phone, please?” I asked, my voice raspy.

“You can't use a cell in here. There's a landline phone in the hallway. I'll get a chair and wheel you out there in a little while so that you can use it.”

“I don't need a chair. I can walk,” I said, starting to get up.

“Oh no you don't,” the nurse replied, setting down her chart and coming over to push me back down onto the bed. “Your oxygen levels are low, which means you are prone to being weak and dizzy. If I let you get up and you collapse, then I'm in big trouble, so stay right where you are. I'll wheel you out there in a minute.”

I had to hand it to her. She knew just what to say. I was very willing to risk my own collapse, but I didn't want to get her in trouble. I sighed and leaned back on the bed, sitting up again when the curtain surrounding my bed was suddenly whisked back.

Thomas! Thank goodness.

“Where's Blake?” I tried again to get up off of the bed and was again restrained by the nurse. “Is she okay?”

He nodded, his face serious. “She took a pretty good hit, but she's tough. She insisted Dr. Hawkins sew her up in the locker room, and she should be on her way here now. She wouldn't let him examine her until she sees you. I can tell he's worried about her head, so when she gets here, assure her you're okay and send her off.”

“What do you mean, she
should
be on her way here? You don't know for sure? And why is he worried about her head? Who's with her?”

The nurse raised her eyebrows at my outraged tone then made a discreet exit.

“Relax. Hector's there, as well as practically a platoon of security. I stayed until Dr. Hawkins exited the locker room and assured me she was okay. He said Callie and Chad were driving her here. We'll have their car surrounded. It should be fine.”

“You keep saying should. I don't like it.” I sighed in frustration. “What about the Santa Muerta guys?”

“We watched until they and their team got on their bus. They're all accounted for and being followed to their hotel. Their every move is being recorded. We're all over them. Foster says…” He paused as his cell phone rang, pulling it out of his pocket to answer it.

Good thing the nurse had left. I watched as he put the phone to his ear and listened, a sense of dread falling over me as his eyes widened in shock. He hung up without saying a word, staring at me silently as he considered what to say.

“Just spit it out,” I said, my tone dull and even. I knew it was bad news. I could sense danger. I peeled up the surgical tape on my arm and pulled out the IV needle. Something was up. It was time to leave.

“The guards waiting outside of the locker room heard sounds of attack. They tried to get in, but it was blocked. They ran around and discovered the back door pried open. Danny and Blake are both missing. Mateo,” Thomas paused, coming closer to me and grabbing my shoulder to steady me. “There was blood all over the locker room floor.”

I hopped off the table and left the room, throwing open the door with more force than was necessary and bumping into the nurse.

“Sir, sir! Where are you going? You just can't get up and walk out of here.”

Watch me,
I wanted to respond. But it would serve no purpose to be rude. She was just doing her job. It wasn't her fault Mexican drug cartel assassins wanted to kill my girlfriend. I pushed past her without speaking, Thomas on my heels as we headed for the emergency room exit. An eerie calm had descended over me. I was completely focused. I knew Blake wasn't dead, not yet at least. I couldn't explain it. It was just something I felt in my gut. We were connected. I could sense her presence before I saw her. I could read her moods. She was a part of me, and I would know if that part was gone. As long as she was alive, then I had time to find her and save her. But where was she?

We hit the ER exit, the nurse still scrambling behind us, trying to convince me to stay, right as Dr. Hawkins and the whole Williams family arrived.

“Mateo, what are you doing?” Dr. Hawkins sounded startled.

I ignored the question. “Tell me about Blake's injuries,” I said. I needed to know how to help her when I found her.

Dr. Hawkins looked confused, but to his credit quickly answered my question. “She has a laceration to the side of her face that required five stitches. She has what I would call a stage two or three concussion, which caused a short loss of consciousness. Her pupils were dilated, and I'm guessing she was experiencing headache and nausea, although she did her best to hide it. I want to run a CT on her as soon as I can to make sure there is no swelling or internal bleeding around her brain.”

Mary gasped at this, and Joe picked up Benji who looked scared.

“The CT is just a precaution,” Dr. Hawkins continued, his tone softening. “I think it's just a concussion and what she needs most is rest.”

Callie and Chad walked through the door then, looking confused at the sight of us huddled together talking seriously in the entryway.

“Where's Blake?” Dr. Hawkins immediately asked.

“We thought she was with you,” Callie returned, sounding slightly panicked. “We went to get the car and bring it around to her and someone met us in the parking lot and told us you had changed your mind, and she was going in an ambulance instead. We saw it pull in and head for the gym. I tried to get back to see if I could ride with her, but the area was blocked off. It was weird. We figured we would meet you here and find out what was going on. Where is she?”

“We don't know, but I'll find her,” I replied. She had left in an ambulance. At least we knew that much. Thomas was already on the phone calling Hector, but surely he knew this already. He was there. He had seen the ambulance. Why hadn't he reported it? I began to walk out, ignoring Dr. Hawkins telling me I was too sick to leave, when Benji's soft little voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Maybe you can get the tattoo bushman to help,” he said, his big brown eyes serious.

“Who's that, Benj?” I asked gently, kneeling in front of him. I could tell he was scared by everything going on around him. I didn't want to make it worse.

“The man who hides in the bushes in my backyawd. The man I dwew on the pikcha foh you mommy. I talk ta him sometimes. He's nice. He says he is the pwotecta of my family. But it's a secwet. And he has a piwate tattoo. He hides it unda his shiwirt, but I saw it befowa.”

“What kind of pirate tattoo? Can you tell me what it looks like?” I asked.

Joe and Mary had horrified expressions on their face, but Benji was calm after sharing his information.

“It has a bone face, like on a piwate flag, but it is weawing a funny white dwess.” Benji giggled. “It's silly!”

“Thanks, Benji,” I said, patting him on the head. “I'll see if I can find him.” I didn't add
kill him
. I turned to leave again. Joe grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“What's going on?” His voice was serious, tense. Everyone was staring at me, horror and confusion in their eyes. I took a deep breath.

“I don't have much time to explain,” I replied. “Callie, why don't you and Chad take the kids over to the waiting room?” I waited as they grabbed Benji and Grace and walked away, Callie shooting anxious glances back at me. She wouldn't be put off for long. “Listen, and try not to panic.” I said, even as I hid my own mounting alarm.

“The people who killed Blake's parents are after her too. We've had her surrounded with security for months. I'm sorry, Joe and Mary, that we didn't let you know. Blake didn't want to scare you.” Mary had turned white as a ghost. Dr. Hawkins' mouth was hanging open. Joe looked furious.

“I think they may have taken her from the school while I was here. We already have people on it. I've got to go help. I'm sorry I can't give you more details right now. I really have to go. I'll do everything I can to get her back safely.” There was nothing more I could say. I didn't have time. I had to get out of here. I moved to leave.

“Wait!” Dr. Hawkins said, turning to the nurse who was standing beside us looking astonished. “Get me an antibiotic pack. Quickly. Mateo, without looking at an x-ray or checking your blood work, I'm not sure what you're fighting, but I want you to get on an antibiotic just in case. This is a three-day treatment. Follow the instructions and get started right away. And find Blake and get her back to me.”

“I will,” I said, catching the box the nurse threw at me as I walked out of the door. Thomas was talking to Hector. I grabbed the phone away.

“Tell Foster he has a mole on his security team!” I yelled, climbing into the passenger side of my truck as Thomas slid into the driver's seat. I was feeling too dizzy to drive.

“And is anybody following that second ambulance?”

“Mateo, the ambulance is still sitting here, empty. We think it transported the attack team here, but we don't know what kind of vehicle they used to get away. We saw nothing. By the time we arrived at the back door of the locker room and found it open, no one was there, with no sign of where they had gone. We've searched the whole campus. But now that we know about the traitor, it makes sense. We weren't looking for that. He could have easily gotten them out right under our noses. Foster wants to talk to you.”

“Mateo, we might have a way to track them. Every junior member of our security team is equipped with a GPS hidden in their car, and another one hidden in the equipment bag we issue them. It's our way of keeping tabs until they've gained our complete trust. Meet us at your pool house. I already have people seeing if we can follow that lead anywhere.”

I tried to respond but coughed instead.

Thomas took the phone from me. He had heard every word. “On our way,” he said, pulling out of the hospital's parking lot.