Rules Of Attraction (33 page)

put out on the streets. I found my way to Boulder, where there were

plenty of kids like me. But living on the streets was dirty, and I was

alone and had no money. One day I was begging for money and this man

sneered at me and said, ‘Does your mother know where you are and

what you’re doing with your life?’ At that moment I thought about it.

If my mother up in heaven was looking down at me, she’d be pissed as

hell at me for not trying to make something better out of myself.

But I realized that no amount of fighting would bring back my

family,” he continues. “No amount of drugs would completely erase the

look in my brother’s eyes begging me to help him. And I could never run

away from that image, because running away just made things worse. I

refocused that energy in the military.”

“I don’t want you to risk your life for me, Professor. It’s bad

enough I want to date your daughter.”

“We’ll have that discussion another time. Now let’s focus on the

problem we’ve got right now. When are you supposed to meet with

Devlin?” Westford asks. Determination is radiating off the guy.

We agree to meet at seven and put some sort of plan in motion.

What that actual plan is, I have no clue. Hopefully by seven o’clock

tonight Westford will figure it out. Truth is, it’s a relief to finally put

my life in the hands of someone I trust.

FIFTY-FOUR :
Kiara

My mom is making pancakes for breakfast on Monday morning.

“What are you still doing home?” I ask.

“I’ve got some employees opening the store.” She smiles warmly,

that sweet smile that always made me feel better when I had to stay

home sick in grade school. “It’ll be nice see you and Brandon and get

you off to school for a change.”

“Have you or Dad talked to Carlos?” I ask for about the trillionth

time since yesterday. Both of my parents have been acting strange

since my dad came home from work yesterday. He locked himself in his

office with my mom for hours. The two of them have seemed on edge

since then, and I can’t figure out why.

Carlos told me he was going to Alex’s place, right before he told me

he loved me. I wish he was here so he could assure me everything will

be okay between us, but I know he needed to get away and figure

things out in his own head.

The problem is, I never eased his biggest fear. He needs to know

I’m not going to suddenly give up on him or give up on us. I wish I could

have talked to him before school today, but that didn’t happen. He

hasn’t been back since he dropped me off early Sunday morning. I

watch my mom as she vigorously mixes the pancake batter faster in her

bowl. “I’m not sure.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t want to talk about it.”

I walk over and put my hand on her arm, stopping her from mixing.

“What’s going on, Mom? You have to tell me.” I swallow, hard. I won’t

stand back and have the boy I love live in misery because he loves me

back. It’s not worth it. I would give him up if it meant making him

happy. “I need to know.”

When she looks at me, her eyes are watery. Something is definitely

up. “Your father said he’s taking care of it. I’ve trusted him for the

past twenty years. I’m not going to stop now.”

“Does it have to do with Carlos? Does it have to do with him getting

beat up? Is he in danger?”

My mom puts her hand on my cheek. “Kiara, honey, go to school. I’m

sorry I’m a little tense this morning. It will all be over soon.”

“What’s going to be over, Mom?” I ask in a panic. “Just t-t-tell me.”

She stands back, obviously contemplating the consequences of

spilling whatever secret she’s holding. “Your father said he’s handling

it. He had a long talk with Tom and David yesterday, his buddies from

the military who work in the DEA’s office.”

“I feel sick,” I say.

“It will be fine, Kiara. Now get ready for school, and don’t say one

word about this to anyone.”

“Is breakfast ready?” my brother asks as he walks in the kitchen.

My mom goes back to mixing. “Almost. We’re having whole-wheat

pancakes.”

Brandon gives her his famous pouty face, the one nobody in our

house can resist. I wonder if that look will ever get old. Knowing

Brandon, he’ll still be using it when he’s fifty. “Can you put chocolate

chips in them? Pleeeeease.”

My mom sighs, then kisses his big cheeks. “Okay, but put on your

shoes so you’re not late for the bus.”

As she ladles the batter into the hot pan, I walk into my dad’s

office. I know it’s terrible of me, and it’s totally inappropriate, but I

sit in front of my dad’s computer and browse his history. First on the

Internet and then in each of his document folders. If there’s some

clue to what’s going on, I need to know. And since nobody will tell me, I

have no choice but to snoop around and investigate, myself.

Unfortunately for my dad, but fortunately for me, he didn’t erase

his history. I pull up everything he’s worked on in the past twenty-four

hours. I look at a letter he wrote to his boss about introducing a new

curriculum, an outline of the test he’s working on for his class, and a

spreadsheet with a bunch of numbers on it.

I study the spreadsheet. It’s a financial one . . . detailing one of

their bank accounts. The last entry is from today—a debit for fifty

thousand dollars—leaving my parents with a balance of five thousand

dollars. In the description line is one word: CASH.

My dad is taking fifty thousand dollars out of his bank account

today. Somehow that money is connected to Carlos getting beat up, I

just know it.

“Kiara, the pancakes are ready!” my mom yells from the kitchen.

Obviously she’s not going to tell me why my dad is taking a whopping

fifty thousand dollars out of their bank account. I play innocent, eating

my pancakes with a fake carefree smile on my face.

As soon as we’re finished with breakfast, my mom rushes Brandon

outside to his bus. I quickly sneak back onto my dad’s computer

because I have one more idea: I go to the maps website my dad usually

uses and click on his recent searches.

Sure enough, the last two searches are addresses unfamiliar to me.

One is near Eldorado Springs and the other is in Brush, a town that’s

about an hour and a half away from my house. I know there are a lot of

drug problems there, and my heart sinks. What’s going on? I quickly

scribble down the addresses, then close the computer and try to look

innocent when my mom comes back in the house.

At school, I open my locker and find two roses lying on top of my

books, one red and one yellow. They’re bound together by a black-

beaded rosary and a note. There’s no doubt in my mind they’re from

Carlos.

I kneel in front of my locker and read the note, written on a torn

piece of notebook paper.

‘K,

The lady at the store said yellow means friendship and red means

love. The rosary is the only thing that I own that has value to me. It’s

yours, I’m yours.

C’

“Is that Kiara Westford?” Tuck says, coming up to me. “The one

who doesn’t call me back?”

I clutch the flowers, rosary, and note to my chest. “Hi. Sorry,

things have been crazy.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What are you holding?”

“Stuff.”

“From the Mexican stud?”

I look down at the beautiful flowers. “He’s in t-t-trouble, Tuck. My

dad’s with him, and my mom is acting weird, and I need to help

somehow. I can’t just be left in the dark, when they’re all in d-d-

danger. I feel so useless. I just . . . don’t know what to d-d-do.” I don’t

even realize it at first, but I’m rubbing the rosary beads with my

fingers.

Tuck pulls me into one of the empty classrooms. “What kind of

trouble? Stop shaking, you’re scaring me.”

“I c-c-can’t help it. I think it has to do with Carlos and some drug

dealers. I’m freaking out because my dad thinks he’s Rambo and can fix

this. The DEA might be involved, too. I have a feeling he’s in over his

head, Tuck. I don’t even know who this drug dealer guy is, except that

after Carlos got beat up he referred to him as The Devil, in Spanish—

El Diablo.”

“El Diablo?” Tuck shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean anything to me.

You know who you should talk to?”

“Who?” I ask.

“Ram Garcia. His mom works in the DEA’s office. She came to talk

to us a while back about her job.”

I kiss Tuck on the cheek. “You’re a genius, Tuck!” I say, then run

off to find Ram. A half hour later I’m sitting opposite Mrs. Garcia,

Ram’s mom. She’s wearing a navy pantsuit and a crisp, white shirt,

looking very much like a DEA agent. When Ram gave me her number, I

snuck out to my car and called her. I told her everything I know. I’ve

never ditched school before, but then again, I’ve never been so worried

about my dad and Carlos before. Mrs. Garcia just got off the phone

with my mom. “She’s on her way,” she tells me. “But you’re going to have

to stay here for a few hours. I can’t let you leave this building.”

“I don’t get it,” I tell her. “Why?”

“Because you know the address in Brush. Your knowledge could put

a lot of people in danger.” Mrs. Garcia sighs, then leans forward on her

desk, piled high with manila file folders. “To be quite blunt, Kiara, your

father, Carlos, and Alex have stumbled into something we’ve been

working on for months.”

“Please tell me they’re not in danger,” I beg, my heart pounding

faster and faster.

“We’ve got word to our undercover special agents working inside

the gang that your father and the Fuentes brothers are to be

protected. They’re as safe as they can be on the brink of a DEA drug

raid, and your father will take all necessary precautions.”

“How do you know that?”

“Your father has worked with us before on some criminal profiling

and undercover ops,” she says. “He’s keeping the operation a secret

from Carlos and Alex for their protection. The less they know, the

better.”

What? My dad has worked with the DEA? For how long? He never

mentioned anything before. I always see him as my dad, not some guy

who does undercover work with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency. All

I knew was that he had friends from the military who he kept in touch

with and went out with occasionally.

Mrs. Garcia can probably see the confusion written all over my

face, because she leaves her desk and crouches in front of me. “Your

father was in some heavy-duty combat missions with some of our

agents. He’s well respected, and he knows what he’s doing.” She looks

at her watch. “All I can tell you is that we’ve got them under constant

surveillance, and our agents working on the inside are highly trained.”

“I don’t care that they’re highly trained.” Tears well up in my eyes,

and I think about all the things I want to say to Carlos that I’ve held

back and all the times I should have told my dad how much I appreciate

him. “I want a one hundred percent guarantee that they’ll all be fine.” I

tell Mrs. Garcia.

She pats my knee. “Unfortunately, there are no guarantees in life.”

FIFTY-FIVE :
Carlos

I look over at my brother, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel

of his car. The Professor spent all day going over the different

scenarios, just in case Devlin or any one of his guys decided to go back

on their word and start shooting at us.

When we met last night, the Professor arrived at Alex’s place in a

black turtleneck and black pants, as if he were Zorro. I think the poor

guy misses whatever covert military operations he used to be involved

in, because his raw excitement couldn’t be more obvious. Don’t ask me

how Westford came up with the idea of making a deal with Devlin. I

spent an hour arguing with him, telling him there was no way in hell I’d

let him pay tens of thousands of dollars of his own money to get me out

of trouble. I argued until my throat was sore, but Westford insisted.

He said he’d negotiate with Devlin with or without my consent. Before

he made the deal with Devlin, Westford and I sat down for a long talk.

He was willing to offer to buy Devlin off for whatever it took . . . on

one condition. I’d have to enter the military or go to college.

That was it. The Professor was willin’ to take a shitload of cash out

of his own bank account to buy my way out of Devlin’s chains, with rules

attached. “It’s like slavery,” I told him this afternoon as we went over

the plan in detail.

“Cut the crap, Carlos. Is it a deal or not?” he’d said.

I shook hands with him, but to my surprise he pulled me forward

into a bear hug and said he was proud of me. It feels weird to have a

guy who knows the truth about who I am and what I’ve done still care

about my future and want me to succeed.

Devlin gave the Professor twenty-four hours to come up with fifty

thousand dollars to buy me out, but only after I showed up at some

secret location in Brush and proved to have a united front with

Rodriguez in front of allies of the Guerreros. I guess some big deal is