Flee (7 page)

“Mateo, help.” The voice was louder now and familiar. I relaxed but remained confused. What was he doing here?

“Hector?” I asked. I walked along the limestone edge of the pool and looked over. The terraced property wound down from our yard into the little canyon below. Two terraces down Hector sat, sweaty and breathing hard. Seeing him was like seeing family, and I smiled in spite of myself.

“I can see that in my six weeks away you have let yourself get sadly out of shape. You really shouldn't let yourself go like that, man. You're not as young as you used to be. You require maintenance.” He glared back at me and tried to catch his breath.

“You have no idea how hard it was to get past your security and up to the house without being seen,” he replied.

“Well, I hope it was hard. That's why I'm paying them. It alarms me that you found a way, though.”

“Hey, I'm good,” he said, grinning. “It comes from years of chasing after a bratty kid who was always trying to lose me. Now the least that bratty kid can do is help me up.” He held up his hand, and I climbed down to him and pulled him to his feet. We climbed up to the back patio and sat down in the shade next to the pool. The teasing atmosphere was instantly gone. If Hector had come all of this way to see me and had gone to some trouble to sneak past security, then something was up.

“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself for the worst.

“There is trouble with Las Lunas. Thomas asked me to come and warn you and check on you and your security. He misses you and your mother terribly, you know.”

“I know. I miss him too.” I spoke quietly. Thomas and I had banded together as kids to torment our oldest brother Juan Carlos. How I wished he were here with us now, that he would find the answer to our dilemma with the family
business
. I didn't understand how he could stay in that environment for long. “What kind of trouble?” I asked.

“The oldest De La Garza son is missing. Las Lunas think we're responsible. They're out for blood.”

The Lunas, along with my dad's group, The Bajas, were two of the biggest drug cartels in Mexico. Between them, they controlled the trade routes throughout most of the country that carried drugs from both Mexico and South America into the United States. For two years now they had been engaging in a mini war with each other. It was from this that Mom and I had fled.

“
Are
we responsible?” I asked, both needing and not wanting to know.

“Absolutely not. Our sources think he has been arrested. The authorities are not making any announcements. We're working our inside people, trying to gain information, but so far nothing. We think they're waiting to see what kind of fallout there will be between the two cartels. Maybe they are hopeful we'll just take each other completely out and save them the trouble.” Hector sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a sign of worry. I noticed he was graying at the edges, even though he was only in his mid-thirties. Mom was right. The life we led caused premature aging.

“What's being done?”

“Increased security. A good perimeter around the house. Travel cut down to only what is absolutely necessary and then only in armored vehicles. Juan Carlos is working with our sources in the system, trying to confirm what is suspected so that the situation can be diffused.”

“What do you recommend we do here?” I asked. I was all business now, my head analyzing the information and the consequences.

“Thomas wants me to stay here, assess your security detail and ensure they are trustworthy and adequate. Follow you and your mom around, stay alert and focused and use my particular set of skills if needed. Basically, I am to make a big pest of myself, eating your food and getting in your way until I drive you crazy. Just like old times.”

He smiled, but his expression was serious and determined. He would easily give his life to keep Mom and me safe. He was a good man, even if he had chosen the wrong employer and cause to attach himself to. I had compassion on him, though. He had begun working for my father when he thought furniture and accessories import and export was all he was involved in. He knew too much now, though. He could never leave this job, this life, alive.

“So that is what Thomas says. What do Dad and Juan Carlos say?”

“I'm taking their silence as permission to follow Thomas' orders. I know they would have stopped me if they had disagreed.” His answer was somewhat comforting. Dad and Juan Carlos weren't speaking to us and apparently weren't even speaking about us, but they did want to see us safe. It was something, at least.

“Well, Uncle Hector, welcome to the family. Looks like we will be seeing a lot of you. I gotta ask, have you ever been to an American football game?” Laughing at his confused expression, I stood to move inside. “Let's go see Mom and tell her you're here. We're not going to mention anything about this situation, however. She'll panic with worry over them. We'll just say Thomas sent you as a precaution.”

Mom received Hector's presence with muted joy. Like me, she was thankful to see a familiar face. Any association with home was welcome. She was putting on a brave front, working to build a new life here, but I knew she missed my father and brothers to the point of pain. I could sometimes hear her crying quietly in her room at night. My biggest source of security growing up was the love my parents had for each other. Even recently, when Dad's newly inherited role in his family's dealings had begun to morph him into a man neither of us understood, she had remained passionately committed to him. I'd been astonished when she had agreed to leave with me. I knew she'd been driven by a desire to keep me safe, and by horror at how out of control things had gotten at home. The attack on our house the night we had left had been the final straw for her.

Hector was assigned the small two-room guesthouse to the left of the pool. Before nightfall, he had met the security personnel on duty and had begun to assess their plan and abilities. Mom watched him warily when he was in the house, shooting an anxious, curious glance my way every so often. Thankfully she didn't voice her questions out loud. I wasn't sure I would have known how to answer them. I wouldn't lie to her, but I wanted to keep her as in the dark as possible, at least until she wasn't so emotionally vulnerable.

****

The pitch blackness I awoke to did nothing to induce me back to sleep. I was restless and anxious. What was happening at home? How was Thomas handling it? This was the first crisis where I wasn't there. Thomas and I had always ridden these things out together. He called me his sounding board, especially after he had been wounded in January when his jeep had been forced off the dirt road that wound through the arid hills behind our home. Thomas had suffered multiple abrasions and fractures and a head injury that had us fretting over him for months. Dad had been furious, demanding retribution on all real and supposed family enemies. It was the first time I had seen Mom scared of him. It was also the first time I had seen Juan Carlos, eerily calm and collected, taking over the decision-making and keeping things in control until Dad was rational again. At the time, I was glad that he'd been able to diffuse the situation, but his detachment from emotion had frightened me. What was he capable of?

Thinking of Thomas made me sad. I knew he'd always favored Dad, worshipping him with even greater devotion than I did. And Dad had been worthy of devotion; a dedicated husband and father, playful and there for us when we needed him. At least until his brother had been killed, and he had inherited the dark side of the Reyna family business. That responsibility had turned him into someone we no longer recognized, with Mom as his greatest and most broken-hearted victim.

Looks like my run is going to be a long one today,
I thought, angrily and silently dressing. Mom had cried herself to sleep again last night, scared of what she did not know. I didn't want my raging thoughts to awaken her now. So I grabbed my bag and quietly let myself out of the house and drove to school.

The sleepy security guard at the school gate waved me through carelessly, his attention focused on the steaming coffee mug in his hands. Judging from the parking lot, we were the only ones here. I parked and began running before I even hit the track, going hard for thirty minutes at a furious pace, pushing myself beyond what I thought I could do and ignoring my body's protests. Adrenaline drove me forward until I was spent, and I slowed to a walk, collapsing on the soft grass in the center of the track. I closed my eyes and willed my breath to return to normal. After several minutes, a breeze blew softly over me and carried with it the sound of soft breathing. I opened my eyes. Blake sat on the damp grass at my right side, her arms wrapped around her pulled up knees, her face watching mine.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft and soothing. She reached over and gently pushed my sweaty hair away from my forehead. Her fingers were cool and gentle, and I fought to not lean into them. “That was some run. Wanna tell me about it?”

“I just needed to release some energy,” I replied, trying to keep it light. Trying to shield her from the dark parts of my life.

“It looked like a little more than that. The expression on your face was something to behold.” She waited for me to answer, her fingers still playing with the edges of my hair.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, veering the subject away from what driven me to the track so early and wondering why I hadn't noticed her. What was she doing her so early? It was only 4:45, if the clock on the guardhouse was correct. Still the middle of the night to some people.

“About twenty minutes.” She let go of my hair, and I suppressed my sigh of disappointment. “I sat in the stands and watched you. You seemed like you wanted to be alone. Besides, I'm not dressed to run.”

I looked at her more carefully. “Pajamas and flip flops. Nice. Are you going for a uniform infraction today?” I was teasing, but I instantly sobered when I realized that her face was tired, her eyes red-rimmed. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I'm just tired. I don't sleep very well. I was going to work on my English paper this morning, but before I could start, I had some strange compulsion to drive to school. It's almost like I knew you were here. I didn't even notice I wasn't dressed until I got here. And then I find you running like you're being chased by the hounds of hell.” She paused. “No, more like you were chasing them and quite determined to catch them and rip their heads off once you did. So, can I ask you again? What's going on?”

“Just some family stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.” She looked at me with narrowed, skeptical eyes and started to reply but was interrupted by a yawn. She needed rest.

“Why don't you join me?” I asked, patting the turf beside me. “The grass is fine.”

Blake nodded and lay down on her back beside me, her fingers so close to mine they softly touched at the tips. I didn't move. I just enjoyed her closeness. We lay in silence for a few minutes, and then she began to speak, in so soft a whisper I had to strain to hear her.

“Nights are hard. Things are getting better. Hey, I'm almost a normal student during the day, mostly thanks to you, I think. You seem to have a way of comforting me that I don't understand.” She hesitated, taking a deep shaky breath before she continued.

“You don't even have to do or say anything, I just have to know you're there and I feel better. And then I go home, and your presence wears off, and I start to get sad. By the time it's dark, I'm almost completely panicked. Why is that? I hardly know you.”

I know what you mean
, I thought. But I remained silent. Were we in too deep already? If she saw me as more than just a helpful friend, I couldn't walk away. I probably couldn't anyway. Even now, I was mesmerized by the way the breeze blew her hair across her face and by the calm that had descended on me as soon as I had sensed her presence. I seemed to need her as much as she needed me.

“It's really freaking me out.” She spoke so quietly I could barely make out the words.

“What is?” Did I really want to know?

She didn't respond at first. She flipped herself over onto her stomach and propped up on her elbows and looked me in the eyes. Then she took a deep, unsteady breath. “Okay, here goes. I'm scared of the effect you have on me. I'm frightened beyond all reason to need you so much. I'm scared of where this is going. Everyone I have ever…” A pause. A shaky, indrawn breath. “Well, everyone I ever cared about has died.” Blake shuddered and closed her eyes, tears spilling out of the tightly squeezed corners. “I'm a curse, a horrible curse. You should stay away from me as if your life depended on it. Who knows, maybe it does.”

The look on her face broke my heart. Without thinking, I pulled her into the crook of my arm and cradled her head against my shoulder. My arms wrapped softly around her waist. I remembered too late that I was covered in dry sweat. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice or care.

“You're not a curse. You're a victim. Please don't be scared. I'm honored that I can help you. It brings me pleasure.” I was on dangerous ground here, so I tried to word my thoughts carefully. “I enjoy being your friend. I'm here if you need me.”

“I think I might always need you. That's part of what scares me.” She mumbled into my neck. Not knowing how to respond, I just gently stroked her hand. She cuddled up into my side, her breathing becoming more and more even. Within a couple of minutes she was sound asleep.

I woke her at 6:30, something I was hesitant to do. It wouldn't be long before people started arriving, though, and I knew this scene would cause a stir. She didn't need to be the object of any more gossip, and I certainly wouldn't allow her reputation to be tainted.

“Blake,” I whispered, pushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “You need to wake up.”

Her eyes opened slowly, then widened suddenly when she realized where she was, but their peaceful expression didn't change. Her face was close. Too close. I stared at her lips. They were full and beautiful, and I wanted to touch them. Before I could act, she provided the distraction I desperately needed by speaking.

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half. I would let you sleep more, but people will be here soon. Maybe you should get home before you're spotted in your pajamas. I don't know if Coach Williams would react well to this sight.”

Startled, Blake sat up quickly and stretched. “Yeah, this would be hard to explain. I feel better, though. I think that's the deepest sleep I've managed to get in a long time. Thank you.”

“Blake, why don't you skip school today? Go home and go back to bed. You could probably use several more hours of sleep. I'm sure Coach would agree.” I stood and pulled her to her feet.

“I'm sure he would, too, but I don't think I could if I tried. You seem to be my sleeping drug of choice, and since you can't come with me, it would be an exercise in frustration to try. Besides,” she looked down, her cheeks tinged a light pink. “I kinda want to be around you today. It calms me. But I better go home and shower.” She picked up a strand of her hair and sniffed it, grimacing. “I may not have run today, but I smell like I did.”

“Sorry,” I replied lightly. “The next time you need a sleep aide, I'll try to be freshly showered. A little warning would be helpful on that, you know.”

“I'll do my best.” She laughed. Her eyes were soft and content, the redness gone. Her hair was tangled and loose, falling halfway down her back in soft waves. She was beautiful.

I walked her to her car, watched her wipe away a quick tear when she got in, and then after she drove away, I grabbed my gym bag and walked to the locker room. After my shower, I headed to the athletic offices, hoping to find Coach Williams. I knocked on his door.

He grunted “Come in,” and I found him at his desk, writing on a yellow legal pad in front of him.

“Oh, hey Reyna. What can I do for you? Do you have any questions about the game Friday night?”

“No sir. I think I understand my role. It's pretty simple. I'll do my best.”

“I'm confident of that. You have quite a work ethic. Wish every boy would work as hard as you do.” Coach twirled his pencil, lost in thought for a moment, then looked up. “Well, if it isn't that, what is it?

“It's about Blake, sir. I have a question.”

“Ahh, I've been waiting for this.” He put down his stubby pencil, pushed back his chair, and then kicked his legs up on his desk. “Your friendship seems to really be helping her. Mary and I are very grateful. We've been worried. And helpless. Nothing we seemed to do was making a difference.” He paused and looked me straight in the eyes for several seconds. I returned his direct gaze and hoped I measured up.

“Then you show up and in a few short weeks she's talking more and laughing, caring about her appearance… just making more of an effort in general. She likes you, and since she does, I have to say this:
don't
hurt her. She's been through so much. I don't think she can handle any more pain. So be very careful with her. For some reason you have a lot of power over her right now. Use it wisely.”

“I would never hurt her,” I said with conviction. He looked at me, eyes narrowed for several seconds before nodding.

“Do you know her story?”

I know that she's witty and smart and athletic. I know she's independent and intuitive. I know getting into her car seems to make her cry. I know that she's beautiful, and I hate to be away from her.

All I said aloud was, “I know that she's an only child and that both of her parents died suddenly in February.”

Coach Joe rubbed his eyes, then looked up at me, sadness washing over his face. “It's a bit more complicated than that. Blake's dad was my best friend, so this is hard to talk about, but I feel you should know everything since you seem to be getting attached.”

I held up my hand to stop him. “With all due respect, sir, I would rather wait until Blake's able to tell me this herself. I feel like I know as much as she wants me to know right now, and I don't want to put any kind of weird vibe on our friendship by knowing more but acting like I don't. When she's ready to speak about it with me, then I'm ready to listen. I always want to be honest with her, and if I have information she doesn't know I have, I feel like it would compromise that.”

Coach eyed me thoughtfully for a minute, and then nodded once. “ You're a wise young man, Reyna. You seem a lot older than your years. What is it that you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, sir, I was wondering if it was all right with you and Mrs. Williams if Blake came over to my house after the game Friday night for a couple of hours? I would bring her home at whatever time you say, and my mother and uh, uncle would be there also to chaperone. I guess I'm asking your permission to see her off school property and after school hours. I haven't spoken with her about this yet. I wanted to get your answer first.”

“I think that's a great idea. She never goes anywhere, so I hope she agrees. I can't imagine her saying no to you about anything, though. Have her home by midnight, please, so Mary and I can rest easy. Oh, and while you're here, deliver a message to your mom for me. I met her at the football parents' meeting the other night. She volunteered to raise money to re-do the men's locker room. I guess it is getting a little shabby. It takes a lot of abuse. I spoke with the board and they're all for it. Tell her to give me a call, and we'll talk details.”

“Will do.” I chuckled to myself, proud of Mom and her initiative. As long as she stayed busy and helped someone do something, she would manage just fine. “And thank you, sir, for your permission. I'll ask Blake today at lunch.”

Lunch seemed a long time coming. I saw Blake, of course, in the two morning classes we had together and in the hallways between periods, but we didn't have a chance to talk much surrounded by so many people. She was still quiet at school, but she now greeted people and made eye contact and answered questions confidently, if softly. She seemed to have removed the
Back Off
sign I had accused her of having around her neck. When lunchtime finally arrived, I waited for her at her locker, then walked with her toward the cafeteria. Callie, who usually ate with us, had gone on ahead. She seemed to be in the middle of a bio-ethics debate with Chad Hawkins, and he seemed to be losing. Poor guy. Callie knew how to find a flaw in reasoning faster than anyone I had ever met.
Hope you know your stuff, Chad
.