On the Edge (14 page)

I PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY OF THE SAFE HOUSE,
parking around back. Kelsey was standing at the back door. She swung it open, waving us in. The girls needed no urging.

“Matador is still in the car,” I said to Kelsey. “He needs to go to a hospital.”

Her eyes widened. Then she snatched the keys from my hand. “I'll take him to get help. Look after the girls until I get back.” She hurried past me.

The girls were standing in the hallway, very close to each other. For the first time, I got a good look at them. They might be eighteen and twenty, short, South American. They looked so much alike, they could be sisters.

“This way.” I led them downstairs, locking the basement door behind us.

I didn't know what Kelsey expected me to do, but I figured the basics—food, hygiene, somewhere to sleep. “
Tienen hambre?
” I asked, hoping there was food in the kitchen.

“
Sí
,” the girls said.

“Okay.” I pointed down the hall to the bathroom.
“El cuarto de baño, la ducha?”
I showed them a corner closet stocked with clothes and fresh linens that I'd spotted on my last visit.

The girls nodded gratefully and went into the bathroom together. I heard the water running.

The fridge was decently stocked. I quickly scrambled eggs and buttered toast and brought the tray back to the main room. By then, the girls had emerged from the bathroom and were watching TV. They were now wearing clean, oversized sweats.

“Huevos?” I said, and they eagerly accepted the plates, thanking me.

I was tempted to sit down for a minute, but it was better to keep busy. If I stopped to think, I might start to panic. Ortiz still wasn't back. No one was.

He's going to be fine. He knows how to handle himself
.

I checked out the bedrooms. They both had clean linens, some books and magazines. I wondered where Taylor was now and how she was doing. I'd probably never know.

The smell of vomit still hung in her room, but I couldn't crack the window, since it had been nailed shut. I went to the kitchen and found some herbal tea in the cupboard—it had Russian lettering on it, but also a picture of a lemon—so I dropped two bags into a pot and heated up the water in the microwave. I brought the steeping tea into the bedroom.

I dared a look at my phone. 1:31 a.m. Where was Ortiz? Shouldn't he be back by now? But then, he and the other two guys didn't have a car. They would've had to find a safe location, then call other Destinos for a ride. That could take a while.

I saw a text from my mom. She'd sent me several while I was driving, demanding to know where I was and why I was missing curfew.

I texted back:

I hoped it was enough to calm Mom down. There was nothing else I could do.

I heard a rhythmic knock at the basement door and ran up the stairs. “It's Kelsey,” she called.

Damn it. I'd hoped it was Ortiz.

I opened the door. “How's Matador?”

“Fine. One of our Destinos is sewing him up.”

I frowned. “Are you serious?”

“He knows what he's doing. Look, the Reyes know they shot him. They're probably searching the hospitals to see if someone got admitted with a gunshot wound. We're lucky; the bullet grazed him. He'll be fine.”

I followed her back down the stairs. The girls were laughing at a TV show, their empty plates stacked on the coffee table.

“First the high of freedom, then the low of detox,” Kelsey said.

“How long before it hits them?”

“By morning they'll be needing a fix.”

We watched the girls in silence. I was about to ask her what else I could do to help when she said, “They were me six months ago. Lobo must've told you.”

I shook my head. “He hasn't told me about anyone's past.”

“So he didn't tell you I was Salazar's girl?”

I was stunned. “No, he didn't tell me that.”

Her smile was cynical. “That's our Lobo. Makes the rules and follows them too.”

There was a sharp knock at the basement door, and Kelsey went upstairs to open it. My heart rose in my throat, hoping Ortiz would appear. But it was X, the driver, who came down the stairs.

“Are they back?” he asked Kelsey.

“Not yet,” she said.

X's blue eyes settled on me. He was an intimidating guy, as tall as Ortiz, with broad shoulders and a nose that might've once been broken. “Good job tonight, Maddie.” He strode past me toward the kitchen.

His name was familiar, and now it hit me why. I wondered if he was the artist who'd drawn the pictures on Eric's and Ortiz's walls. But that wasn't my main concern right now. I hurried after him. “You haven't heard from Lobo?”

“Don't worry. No one-eight-sevens came up.” He poured a glass of water.

“No what?”

Kelsey came up behind me, not-so-subtly placing herself between me and X. “He means that no homicides came in on the police scanner.”

“If somebody'd got shot or needed an ambulance, I'd know about it.” A faint smile came to his mouth. “I took the Reyes on one helluva ride. Lured them to a bog and made them wreck their car. They're probably still stuck in there.”

“Hells yeah.” Kelsey pumped her fist like a cheerleader. “Nice work, X. Too bad you didn't torch their car with that flame thrower of yours. Watch the motherfuckers burn.”

X grunted and downed his water. He didn't seem to share her bloodlust. But then, why would he? It was Kelsey who must've experienced the cruelty of the Reyes firsthand, not him.

Kelsey slid past X to pour herself some water, and I noticed the way her body sidled up against him. X's face was expressionless, but I guessed that he wasn't on the same page.

“I'm going back out to see if I can find the guys,” he told us. “Call if you need me.” He headed for the stairs. Kelsey watched him walk away.

“Hot damn,” she said, hands on her hips. It was admiration and lust and frustration all in one.

“Have you told him you're into him?”

She snorted. “He said
no thanks
. Said it's because of Lobo's rule that none of the Destinos can get with the girls.”

It sounded like a good rule to me. The last thing the girls needed was to be preyed on by the Destinos. But from what I could tell, Kelsey was practically a Destino herself now.

“He's probably using the rule as an excuse,” she said. “I'm damaged goods to him. Like
he
should judge. He's the one who spent years locked up.”

“I don't know much about X, but I doubt he'd judge you based on . . . something that wasn't your fault.”

“Don't be so sure. I wasn't some innocent girl picked up off the streets. Or some European chick snatched from a stripper pole into a bedroom. Salazar was my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” That took a second to process. I could see that she was watching my face for a sign of judgment. I didn't give it to her. “I'm sure you didn't know who Salazar was when you started dating him.”

“True. I met him at a club when I was a freshman at U. of M. His handlers said he wanted to meet me. I felt like a model who'd been scouted.” She laughed without humor. “He's not even good-looking. But he's like a president or a celebrity. Felt like a privilege just to get near him. Is that fucked up or what?”

It
was
fucked up. “Power's seductive. Lots of people get pulled in before they know what they're in for. How'd you find out what he was really into?”

“I figured out pretty quick that he was a big-time gang leader. Not the rest, though. Not the sex trafficking.” She eyed me. “I bet you're thinking—what a cliché. Suburban girl who wants to roll with a bad boy.”

“I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking it's good that you got away from him when you did.”

“Didn't exactly work that way. He threw
me
out like a piece of trash. I wasn't hooked on anything then. Well, except for the power.”

The power—of being Salazar's girl.

“I could've gotten out, free and clear. Should've gone back to Mommy and Daddy in Boca Raton, gotten my shit together, and gone back to school. But no. I didn't want to let go of him. So I started hanging with his entourage. I wanted to stay close in case Salazar wanted me back. And sometimes, he did. For a night, anyway.” She glanced at me, suddenly self-conscious. “
He
was my addiction.”

“Sometimes people get in so deep they can't see straight.”

She smirked. “You're right about not seeing straight. I used psychedelics with his guys. We were fucked up half the time.”

“You got out, that's what matters. Kudos to you for staying and helping out the Destinos.”

“Yeah, well. I owe them. It's our resident hard-ass Lobo who got me out, just when I was ready to end it.”

I swallowed. I couldn't imagine how low she must've been to consider taking her own life—and I was amazed that she could talk about it so casually. “He must've heard you needed help.”

“Trust me, I was
beyond
help. But here I am.” She did a little bounce, again reminding me of a cheerleader. “You'd never know, would you?”

“You'd never know.” Some people's pasts were easy to guess. The piercings and chains of street kids, the tattoos of gang members like Manny. But anyone seeing Kelsey would see a pretty, stylish blonde with the world at her feet.

Except for her eyes. That's where the darkness lived. She might've gotten away from Salazar, but she wasn't healed yet.

“Have you thought of going home?”

She heaved a sigh. “I
could
. But Boca Raton is boring as hell. At least here, I'm useful.” She turned to me. “This little operation we've got going—it can't last, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Salazar's going to deal with the cartel. And once he does, the Destinos are gonna be his top priority. I've told Lobo we should go dark for a while. But he won't shut down if he has any leads to work with. It's not in him to stop.”

She was right. To Ortiz, every girl was his sister. How could he walk away?

“Do the Destinos feel the same way as you?” I asked.

“They won't talk about it. As long as Lobo is in, they're in. Hell, I'm in too. Maybe
you
can talk some sense into him. Otherwise, this is a suicide mission.”

A knock at the door jarred us. Kelsey hurried upstairs, unlocking the basement door. I saw Ortiz and the other three Destinos standing there. Relief swept through me.

Ortiz came downstairs, blood-stained and exhausted. He hugged me.

“Thank God,” I said.

“Sorry it took so long.” He held me tight. “Sorry for everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said against my hair. “Now let's get you home.”

I CREPT IN THE DOOR AT THREE THIRTY,
hoping not to wake Mom. But then I saw movement on the couch, and she flicked a light on. “
Finally
,” she said.

“I'm sorry, Mom. We went to this party and—”

She waved away the explanations. “I'm too tired to hear it now. I'm going to bed.” She shuffled toward the stairs. “Oh, and you're grounded for a week.”

“Okay.”

She did a double take, then shrugged and went up to bed.

All things considered, it could've been worse.

Mom had her revenge at seven that morning when she knocked on my door. “Don't even think about missing school.”

I rolled over, pulling the pillow over my face. It took all my willpower to drag myself out of bed and into the shower.

On the bus, I gazed out the window. So many mind-blowing things had happened last night, but I was fixated on the last moments of the night—Ortiz's good-night kiss. He'd cupped my face in his hands, apologized to me for the night's events, and kissed me softly.

Last night had been surreal in every way. Ortiz had let me far deeper into his world than he'd ever intended to. And yet his world, somehow, felt more real than the world I lived in.

When I got to school, I hurried to my locker, determined to grab a cafeteria coffee before first period. I'd probably need several to get me through the day, since I had to be awake for the newspaper meeting at noon.

“So I hear you've snatched up Corner Store Guy.”

I looked up in surprise. Since when was Iz speaking to me?

“You heard right.”

“I'm proud of you.”

A sarcastic reply came to mind, but I didn't think she was trying to be snarky. In fact, her eyes looked puffy, as if she might've been crying.

“Thanks,” I said, and turned to walk away.

“Guess you're over it now, huh?” she said, stopping me in my tracks.

I knew what “it” meant: our friendship.

I shrugged. “Hey, I made my case a million times. And you made your decision.”

“Who said I made a decision? I just needed time to cool down.”

Now
that
was overdoing it. “Time to cool down? I'm not one of your lackey boyfriends, Iz. I don't play those games. You know that.”

Iz paled. Belatedly, I realized I'd hit a nerve.

“The lackey dumped me. Thanks for the text. I guess Julia told you, huh?”

I nodded. No point in denying it.

“It was a bad scene, Maddie. You know how he was always telling me he loved me, but I never said it back? Well, suddenly he up and says that he deserves better. Can you believe it?”

“I'm sorry, Iz.” Normally this would be when I'd hug her, but not anymore. “Sounds like it was for the best. I mean, you didn't love him, did you?”

“Not yet, but I think I was getting there.” Her eyes misted up. “He said I didn't appreciate him.”

I'd rarely seen Iz this emotional, especially in the middle of the school hallway. I didn't know what to say.

“He was right. I was a bitch to him. And to you.” Her eyes dropped. “Honestly, I don't know why I'm like that.”

As far as Iz was concerned, that was an apology.

“We're cool, Iz.” I couldn't promise things were going to be the same—I didn't know. But I wanted the dark cloud over us gone already.

She managed a smile. “I could make Maddie Diaz Margaritas tomorrow night.”

“Can't. I'm grounded.”

“You're kidding me. You're never grounded. What did you do?”

“I was out late with Ortiz.”

“You bad girl!” Iz's face lit up. “Tell me
everything
.”

I stepped away from the grill to check my face in my compact. A little shiny, but nothing a few dabs of powder couldn't fix. Ortiz was going to stop by tonight if he could get someone to cover for him at Sasso's. We hadn't seen each other since early yesterday morning, and that was too long.

“What is this, America's Next Top Model?” Manny said through his microphone. “Two Junior Chickens up here.”

I quickly put away the compact. “Got it.”

Manny turned and said through the shelves of burgers, “Don't worry, Diaz, you look great. I'm sure your G-Zone is flawless.”

“I think you mean T-Zone.”

He winked. “That too.”

I laughed and kept working. Every few minutes I moved away from the grill and glanced toward the door to see if Ortiz had arrived. Since Tom was flexible on when we took our breaks, I'd wait until he came to take mine.
If
he could get away from the store.

I'd almost given up hope when I spotted him. He didn't know I'd seen him yet, and I kind of liked that. I loved watching the way he moved, his eyes narrowing as he looked around and then warming when he finally saw me.

“Can I take my break now?” I called to Tom.

“Go for it.”

Taking off my apron, I left the kitchen and went to the staff room with Ortiz. It was empty, thankfully.

“I missed you,” I said, wrapping my arms around him.

“Me, too.” He kissed me slowly, thoroughly. When he finally pulled back, he glanced over at Ronald McDonald. “That thing is creepy.”

“I know. It's like he's watching us.”

We settled in chairs facing away from the statue.

“I feel shitty that I got you in trouble,” he said. “I want to speak to your mom, tell her it was my fault.”

“You don't have to. But I'll tell her you offered—she'll like that.”

I wanted to talk to him about Kelsey's concerns, and ask him how the rescued girls were doing. But we couldn't risk discussing Destinos business here.

“Did you read before bed last night?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I was too distracted. By you.”

I smiled, and we kissed again. If we couldn't talk openly, at least we could do this . . . as long as we kept it under control.

The door swung open, and we hastily broke apart. Manny took in the scene, gave an awkward, “Oops!” then left again.

Crap
. I hadn't meant to rub my new relationship in his face. But Manny
had
mentioned a few girls lately, so maybe it wasn't a big deal.

“He's not happy,” Ortiz said. The Lobo part of him never missed a thing. He could read people just as well as he could read animals.

“Manny's a good friend.”

“He wants to be more.” Ortiz didn't sound jealous, just matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, well. It makes things awkward sometimes.”

“I'll bet.”

“I want to know how we're going to see each other again,” I said, changing the subject. “I'm not going to wait until next Thursday. Any ideas?”

His eyes glittered. “One.”

Hours later, I sat in the backyard watching Dex do what he did best—dig holes in the lawn. I should probably have stopped him, but the backyard was such a mess with Boyd's junk that I didn't bother. Besides, he deserved his fun.

And so did I. Glancing down at my phone, I saw that it was almost midnight.

When I heard the telltale click of the gate, I knew he was there. I stood up, and Ortiz's strong arms encircled me. Dex jumped up against us, wanting to be part of the hug. Ortiz bent down and played with him, giving Dex an attention fix before sending him off to dig holes again.

“I can't stay for long.” He took a step back, his arms falling away.

Disappointment deflated me. I wanted us to spend hours out here, curled up together under the stars.

“Tell me what you know about Manny Soto.”

“Manny?” He was the last person I expected him to bring up. “He's just a friend from work. Why?”

“Your friend is a former Reyes.”

His words sank into me like a stone. I knew that Manny had been in a gang before he went to prison. But he'd never said which one, and I hadn't asked.

“Who your friends are is your business,” Ortiz said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with those tattoos . . . I wanted to know his story, so I put some Destinos on it. Turns out Manny used to run the streets with the Reyes a few years ago. Then he got put away. Did he tell you what he got sent to prison for?”

I shook my head. “I don't want to know. He's turned his life around.”

“You seem pretty sure about that.”

“I am.” But I had a nervous feeling inside, like Ortiz was going to tell me anyway. “Whatever Manny did, that's in his past. He's a good person.”

“A lot of people think Manny didn't do what he went in for,” he said. “But he confessed to the crime anyway.”

“You think the Reyes forced him to confess?”

“Either that, or he cut a deal with them.”

I didn't understand. “What kind of deal?”

“Maybe he wanted out of the gang, and taking the fall for someone else was his way to do it. He spent a year in juvie, then two in adult prison. That's a short sentence for his crime.”

I steeled myself. “Okay, tell me. What was it?”

“Manslaughter. There was a bar fight. Manny and a bunch of Reyes were there. A guy's head got kicked in and he died.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “Manny didn't kill him.” I knew it for sure. He would never do something like that. “Poor Manny. Locked up for three years for something he didn't do.”

Ortiz gave a grunt. “Trust me, Manny Soto was no choirboy. And the Reyes would've protected him in prison. That's more than you can say for most guys. When he got out, he could walk away from the gang, start a new life. I've never heard of anybody getting a second chance like that. You think it's a tragedy? I'd call it a fairy tale.”

He was right. Manny
was
one of the lucky ones.

We were quiet for a while. Eventually he said, “You were really helpful to us the other night. But I promise you'll never be in a situation like that again. I don't want you involved.”

“I told you, I was happy to help. And I have to admit, it was . . . exhilarating.” I hesitated, but realized this was my chance to bring it up. “I had a talk with Kelsey while you were gone. She's worried about the Destinos. She doesn't think you guys can keep doing this much longer.”

“I know. She has a one-way bus ticket home but she refuses to use it.”

“No one agrees with her that it's getting too dangerous?”

“It was
always
dangerous. Always will be. We have to change our methods constantly to stay ahead of Salazar. But we're not done. Nowhere near it.”

“So you're going to keep on until . . .”

“Until we shut down his operation.”

“And how would you do that?”

“We have to kill Salazar, or have him locked up. He runs the whole business himself, has a finger on every button. Doesn't trust anyone. But he's been underground for months, mostly because of the cartel. El Chueco's got a price on his head.”

“Hopefully El Chueco will take care of him for you.” I couldn't believe we were talking about killing someone. Then again, it was someone responsible for destroying so many lives.

“We can't stand by waiting for El Chueco to get rid of him for us. Too many girls need our help now.”

If Kelsey had hoped I'd talk him down, I was doing a miserable job of it. The problem was that I didn't know what I wanted him to do. I mean, I wanted him to be safe. But I also wanted him to help the girls.

All I could say was the truth. “I want to be with you. Even if I can't help at all . . . just promise me you'll never shut me out.”

“I promise.” He opened his hand, revealing a small note. “It's information. In case something happens to me. Hopefully you'll never have to open it.”

Before I could protest, he put up a hand. “I'm not being morbid, all right? Just take this. Keep it somewhere very, very safe.”

“What is it?”

“Details of a safety deposit box. And X's phone number. If you ever need help, go to him.”

“Why X?”

“If shit goes down, he's the most likely to stay alive.”

My stomach clenched. “You're scaring me.”

“Come on, Madeleina. You're not easily scared. Not anymore. This is reality. If something happens to me, do something good with the money. Give it to a place that—” he broke off, thinking about it, “that helps people start over.”

“What about
you
starting over?”

“That's what I'm hoping for, once Salazar is done. I want a new life. With you.”

“I want that too,” I said, slipping into his embrace.
More than you can imagine
.