Flee (27 page)

Blake

I wasn't sure what day it was, or even what time of day. The light hurt my aching head, so the room remained dark, almost black. I knew
where
I was, at least. Home, carefully tucked into my bed at Mateo's house and thoroughly monitored. I didn't turn my head to look, but I knew a nurse sat in the chair in the corner of the room. I could just barely make out the glow of the tiny reading light she used. I had begged not to be admitted to the hospital, cried hysterically when Dr. Hawkins had insisted. Meg, sweet heartbroken Meg, had intervened. Twenty-four-hour nursing care had been arranged, and so I sat, propped up on multiple pillows because I had to keep my head elevated. Sleep was my closest friend. It was what Dr. Hawkins said I needed most to recover from flu, dehydration, broken nose, a concussion, and what he'd called
emotional trauma.
I wanted sleep for a different reason. When asleep, I couldn't dwell on Mateo. I couldn't remember that he was in danger. That he was sick. That he was captive. I couldn't worry that I might never see his beautiful face again, a thought that caused me to gasp for breath every time it entered my head, resulting in the nurse running to my side and attaching an oxygen mask. I tried to tell her that I didn't need help breathing. I just needed a reason to keep breathing. The only one I could come up with so far was that he had asked me to.

Danny was constantly around now, entering my room almost hourly to check on me or to keep me company or to simply just sit at my side and hold my trembling hand. He absolutely hovered when he was there, making the nurse's presence almost obsolete. I couldn't so much as lift my hand for my water glass without his assistance. I still didn't know who he was working for, but Thomas and Hector and Foster seemed to know and had welcomed him into the fold with great eagerness. If I was capable of any emotion other than heartbreak right now, I supposed it would have made me mad to be left out of the details, but as it was, I didn't care. He was on our side. He was helping. That was all that mattered right now.

Meg was also in the room a lot. She was amazingly strong, so much like Mateo in so many ways. I needed her. She was my link to him. She was my mother figure. She was almost all I had right now. She seemed to need me too, to draw strength from caring for me as Mateo would want her to. It was the only way she could actively serve him now, and she did it with gentle devotion. We seemed to strengthen each other, each of us trying to believe with every ounce of hope in us that we would get Mateo back. We had to believe this. The alternative was too painful to consider. Our minds simply would not go there.

Thomas had been in to visit once only, to assure me that everything was being done to get Mateo back. His voice had been full of subdued anger, cracking when he said Mateo's name. I couldn't look him in the eyes. I was afraid that I would see my deepest fears confirmed, that I wasn't worthy of his brother's life. We both knew it. Mateo should be here. I should be there. It was that simple. I didn't blame Thomas that he could barely stand to be around me. I could barely stand to be around myself. I had to give it to him, though. He was fair, voicing his thoughts to no one as far as I could tell.

Hector didn't seem to share Thomas' view of me. I had awakened in the middle of what I supposed was my first night here, the pain from my head throbbing and the pain from my heart making it hard to breathe, to discover him stroking my arm and singing to me in softly in Spanish. He was an enigma, this fierce but still gentle man. He visited several times a day, entertaining me with stories from his youth in Mexico, his dad's fishing business, the poverty and love that had surrounded him and shaped him into what he was.

Meg was like a replacement mom to me, and Hector was like the uncle I'd never had. Mateo had told me once that the best thing about Hector was his instincts. They were always good, always right. His instinct now seemed to be to comfort me, and he was good at it. His presence brought me some temporary peace. I could relax when he was with me, knowing that this very capable and fiercely determined man was doing everything he could for Mateo.

Then he would leave, and the nightmares would return. What were they doing to him? Would they keep him alive? It was so hard to lie here, doing nothing, waiting for my body to heal. Hoping. Praying. It wasn't enough. I needed to do something or I would go crazy.

With sudden impatience, I threw back the covers and stood shakily up. The nurse immediately arose, prepared, I guess, to help me to the bathroom. I waved her off and headed to my closet instead. My head protested, but not too badly. I felt weak, and my face and nose were definitely sore, but I could tell I was getting better. The flu symptoms had all but disappeared. I had kept solid food down for two days now. My biggest issue was my concussion. Dr. Hawkins had wanted me to rest in bed for a week. I now decided that was an entirely unreasonable plan. I could take no more of that bed. It was beginning to feel like a prison.

I closed the closet door and dressed, slowly and carefully, in loose boyfriend-style jeans. I didn't remove the t-shirt I was wearing. It was Mateo's and still smelled like he smelled when he was freshly showered. The subtle piney, soapy scent brought tears to my eyes. I pulled on my brown sheepskin boots and a fleece with a front zipper. I was cold. I was always cold now. My body didn't seem to be able to regulate my temperature. Or maybe it was my heart that was cold without Mateo around to warm it. I paused before I opened the closet door and fought to catch my breath. Even this much exertion exhausted me. Taking deep breaths, I waited for my heart rate to slow down and my head to return to its normal ache and quit throbbing. It felt funny, like it was too heavy and wobbly on my neck.

Glancing in the mirror on the back of my closet door caused me to grimace. The left side of my face was still swollen, the purple bruises beginning to yellow and give me a jaundiced look. My nose still looked like a prizefighter's. My hair wasn't helping either. Mateo had once described it as an unleashed beast, and it certainly looked like that now. Meg had washed it for me last night, and I, tired beyond reason just from holding up my head, had gone to sleep on it wet. I grabbed the knit hat Meg had bought me. I had teased her at the time, wondering how many opportunities I would have to wear that in Texas. Now it contained my crazy hair, partially covered my hideous bruising and provided much needed warmth. It had become the most practical piece in my wardrobe. I stood up straight, concentrated on looking normal and opened the closet door. I knew the nurse would shoo me right back to bed if I showed any signs of weakness.

She stood waiting for me just outside the door. “Are you okay? Can I help you back to bed?”

“I'm good,” I said, forcing cheeriness and energy into my voice. “I just can't be in that bed any more. I promise I'll take it easy and lie back down as soon as I need to.” I noticed she had opened the blinds. Bright sunshine flooded the room, piercing my eyes and head with pain. I tried not to visibly react, and I wondered where my sunglasses where.

The nurse eyed me warily but let me pass. She was probably as tired of sitting in the dark as I was. I made my way slowly down the hall, pausing once to lean against the wall and catch my breath. I was just straightening back up when Danny caught sight of me. “What're you doing?” he asked. He rushed to my side and grabbed my arm, offering me his support.

“You know, I always thought I wanted a big brother,” I said, letting him lead me to the living room couch. “But if he'd been as annoyingly overprotective as you're being, then I'm glad God never granted that wish.”

Danny chuckled, settling me softly onto the couch and placing soft pillows behind my head.

“I spent twenty-four hours thinking I was watching you slowly die of a cerebral hemorrhage or something. Now that I know you're going to make it, I can't let you sabotage the healing process. You should be in bed.”

“I've
been
in bed for…” I paused, not certain of the timeframe.

“Four days,” Danny supplied.

Four days. Four days that Mateo had been gone. Fear rose up again. My breathing increased.

“Hey, he's okay,” Danny said, sitting beside me and grabbing my trembling hand. “We have leverage. If they hurt him, we pull the trigger on what we know. They don't want us to do that.”

“What do we know?” I asked, confused. “And how do we know he's okay?”

“That piece of paper you found, that map, I know that area. And I'm pretty sure what that route was developed for. We've had intel of an unprecedented shipment of meth coming in from the Far East for over a year. We think that route, developed in secret because of all of the infighting in Las Lunas, was set up to traffic that shipment. Somehow, whoever they trusted and used to set it up was taken out before the Lunas even knew where it was; and for reasons we still don't understand, your father received the only known map of that new route, which they desperately need to keep that shipment secure. Most of the other Lunas' routes are compromised in some way and there is too much riding on this shipment to use them. Nor do they have time to set up a new one. Best we can tell, the shipment arrives in less than a month.”

My aching head was spinning with questions. I repeated the most important one. “How do we know he's okay?”

Danny reached into his pocket and removed a folded-up piece of paper before handing it to me. I unfolded it and gasped. Mateo's face looked back at me. He sat in a chair in the picture, holding up a newspaper with what I guessed to be today's date highlighted on it. He looked tired and in need of a shower, but otherwise good, healthier even than the last time I had seen him. A slight smile played at his lips. That was so Mateo. Even from a distance he was trying to comfort us, to assure us that he was okay.

“Have we been getting these every day?” I asked in shock. Why hadn't I been informed?

Danny nodded. “Blake, you've been kind of out it, and Dr. Hawkins told us to keep you calm and not upset you. I don't think you realize how badly hurt you were. Are.” He gently pushed my head back onto the pillows. “But now, if you're ready to talk, then I'll tell you everything I can.”

“Okay,” I replied, tightly clutching Mateo's picture. “Who are you working for?”

“That I can't tell you,” he said, grinning. “But I'll give you points for perseverance.”

“Ugh. Okay, how do you know where that route is if even Las Lunas didn't know?”

“Let's just say I accidentally, or maybe fortuitously, stumbled upon that information.”

“How do you know about the shipment and its timing?”

“Just part of my job,” he replied casually. Again, another answer that told me nothing.

“You know, you should run for office,” I mumbled. Danny laughed. “So, let me sum up this wealth of information. Lunas is holding Mateo hostage to keep us from disclosing this route, and we're not disclosing this route to keep Mateo alive? We have a month before the shipment travels the route. And then what? They kill him?” My voice had been steadily rising. I was almost hysterical by the end.

“Settle down, Blake. We'll have him by then.” He sounded confident. It helped calm me.

“How can you be so sure?” I whispered.

“Trust me. I'll get him back for you. It's what I do. You've been through enough. This needs to end.”

I held my head back up, gingerly moving it from side to side, my eyes searching the room.

“What are you doing?” Danny was trying to push my head back down. I stopped resisting and let him.

“Looking for your wand. You're obviously my fairy godmother.”

“I wish I had a wand. I could zap away your pain and return your face to its normal shape.”

“You and your obsession with the shape of my face.” I grumbled.

“I guess it's just that it's a visual reminder that I let you get hurt. I should have done a better job protecting you. I'm sorry.” He jumped up suddenly then, shifting to a lighter tone. “The least I can do now is feed you. Hungry?”

I nodded and Danny disappeared behind me into the kitchen. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on what I knew. I still felt fuzzy and confused. I briefly worried about the school I was missing and wondered if I would be in any condition to return on Monday. Even if my head felt better, would my heart be able to cope? Callie and Chad had been by to visit once. Hector had rushed into the room to quickly fill me in on the story we were telling before they were allowed in. Apparently everyone thought that in my confusion from my concussion I had wandered out of the locker room and gotten lost. Danny's story was that he had left me alone temporarily to retrieve his bag, and when he'd returned I was gone. He had set out to find me immediately. The security team had cleaned up the locker room before anyone had seen the bloody mess it had become, thanks to my broken nose.

According to the story, Mateo and Thomas, after an anxious search, had found me unconscious in the woods behind the school. I could tell Callie was buying none of it, but she stayed silent. Waiting for me to get better, I supposed, before assaulting me with questions. I sighed. I knew it would be almost impossible to keep her in the dark. She was relentless. Mateo, assured that I was safe and sound and cared for, was now supposedly in Baja, called back by his father to take care of some family business. Danny was said to be down with the flu. The bruising still evident on his face would take some explaining, so he was keeping a low profile.

Joe and Mary visited daily until I persuaded them I was fine and in good hands. They were subdued, still in shock at the danger I had been in. Incredulous, and both angry and thankful that their house had been under surveillance. They had quickly agreed to let me move in to Mateo's house until the danger was past. They knew I would be safer here. Of course, they knew nothing about Mateo's family history and so far had not thought things through enough to ask how he was so equipped to deal with this kind of situation.