Battered Not Broken (28 page)

The image caused bile to rise up in her throat. Finally, she reached out and braced herself with a hand on the back of one chair. She stood there, just like her brother, mirroring his stance less than three feet away from him.

“Point is,” Manny said, his voice tense but controlled again, as if he knew he’d wrestled her fighting spirit to the ground, “we’re family, and from now on we’re gonna act like it again. Inés and I are having a real wedding this summer. It’s gonna have everything. And that includes you and mamá.”

“Fuck the wedding, Manny.” She said it without conviction and turned on her heel, giving up the support the chair had leant her. She was done – the conversation had ground her will to argue to dust. She needed to get out of the kitchen.

He must have sensed her lack of conviction. He didn’t try to stop her as she turned away. He didn’t say anything at all.

She started toward her bedroom and froze in her tracks when she saw Ryan standing in the threshold of the front door, which she’d left partially open. Her gut tied itself in a million tiny knots as she met his gaze. In the heat of her confrontation with Manny, she’d forgotten all about Ryan.

“I thought I heard an argument.” His expression was neutral, impassive. The jagged red lines splitting his lips leant his handsome face an air of brutality.

How much had he heard?

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but there was nothing he could do about the problems the argument had raised.

“Are you sure?” He stepped toward her, reaching for her.

His hand felt unnaturally warm when he laid it on her shoulder.

“Yeah.”

The slight rustling of clothing and footsteps against tile alerted her to Manny’s approach. She stiffened, sensing his presence behind her.

“This your boyfriend?” He continued to speak in Spanish.

“Yes.” She didn’t have the mental energy to weigh any possible consequences of answering honestly.

Manny stepped past her, his arm brushing hers as he invaded Ryan’s personal space. His face was a mask of restrained malice – the expression she pictured when she imagined him in action as second in command of the relatively small gang, Casa de Ladrillos. “You hurt her and I’ll fucking kill you too.” Finally, he spoke in English.

Ryan stared down at Manny, taller and broader, his expression remarkably similar. “Likewise.”

For a few seconds, invisible lightning seemed to crackle between the two and it seemed genuinely possible that Ryan might remove his hand from her arm and use it to take Manny’s head off. If Manny didn’t strike first.

The moment passed.

Manny departed with the same promise he’d given them last time. “See you soon.”

The roar of his car’s engine didn’t come as quickly as it had before. He must have parked around the corner or at another section of the block, where she wouldn’t see – hadn’t seen – his car. He’d laid a little trap, preying upon their mother while she’d been home alone and waiting for Ally to walk through the door.

“Hey.” Ryan raised a hand to cup Ally’s cheek. “You okay?”

She nodded, horrified to feel stinging pressure building up behind her eyes. She fought the tears harder than she’d ever fought anyone in the ring.

“You want me to take you back to my place for the night?”

It was the most tempting offer anyone had ever made her. She looked him up and down, drinking in the image of his strong body. His arms had felt like a shelter that morning in bed. A part of her wanted nothing more than to slip back into them and let him drive everything else from her mind.

Another part of her cringed at the thought of what he might have heard and what he might be thinking. And a third part of her told her what she had to do. “I’d better stay here with mamá.”

She wasn’t blinded by her own pain severely enough to overlook the fact that her mother had to be hurting almost as badly as she was. No way could she just leave her to suffer through the night alone.

“Okay.” There was no tone of censure in his voice. “Do you still want me to take your things tonight?”

Whatever he’d overheard, it hadn’t stopped him from still wanting to take her clothing home to put in a drawer with his own. The realization struck her like an arrow to the heart. “Yeah.” She blinked the pressure behind her eyes away. Or at least, she tried.

“I can help you get them if you want.”

She led him back to her bedroom, a modest room that had been hers for the better part of two decades. Beside the twin bed was a dresser that housed her lingerie, socks and most of her t-shirts. She selected a few items and laid them on the bed before turning to her closet for jeans and a sweater. When she’d gathered everything, she folded the items and put them in a tote bag she kept beneath her bed.

“Here you go.” Surrendering the bag to Ryan felt strangely like surrendering a piece of herself.

As he tucked it beneath an arm, the feeling only intensified. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yeah.” She’d made it through everything that had happened years ago. She could live through it being rehashed.

“All right. Let me know if you change your mind. You can call me any time, even if it’s late.”

“Thanks.” Though she knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to actually call him in the middle of the night, the offer of a digital lifeline lit a spark of appreciation inside her anyway. That she wouldn’t call mattered less than the fact that he would answer if she did.

“Even if I don’t hear from you tonight, I want you to call me in the morning.”

She looked up to meet his gaze, searching for something she couldn’t quite put a name to – obligation, or maybe something to contradict the honesty in his voice.

It wasn’t there, and that made her want to breathe a sigh of relief. “I will.”

She walked him to the door and watched him climb into his mustang. Her heart seemed to slow as he drove away, leaving her alone with his promise to answer if she called. He’d probably set the bag filled with her clothing on the passenger seat, where she would’ve been riding if she’d accepted his invitation. Somewhere, a piece of her was still in there, making the journey from her neighborhood to his.

Closing and locking both doors, she turned to where her mother still sat at the kitchen table. “Don’t cry, mamá.”

* * * * *

Ally hurried into Annalisa’s. In the turmoil of the night before, she’d totally forgotten about her and Melissa’s standing date for brunch. Every other Sunday, they met there at ten-thirty for waffles. Not the kind with chicken Ryan had introduced her to, but ones piled with whipped cream and strawberries. It was a tradition – one she’d forgotten about until ten-fifteen. “Sorry I’m late.” She settled into the booth where Melissa was already waiting.

“It’s no big deal.” Melissa removed her scarf and shrugged off her jacket. “Is everything okay? You look like you didn’t get any sleep.”

“I didn’t,” Ally admitted. At least, what little sleep she’d gotten had been fitful. After trying to comfort her mother, who’d been reduced to tears by Manny’s visit, she’d gone to bed, incredibly tired but totally awake.

There, she’d thought of Manny. She’d thought of the man he’d killed for longer than she had in a long time. She’d thought of her mother and her father. And she’d thought of Ryan. “Manny has started coming around again.”

Melissa’s eyes went wide above the rim of the coffee cup a waitress had recently delivered. “After all this time?”

Ally nodded and filled Melissa in on Manny’s two tense visits.

“Why do you think he’s suddenly so interested in being around you and your mother again?”

“I think…” It was a question she’d asked herself a hundred times the night before. Manny wasn’t the same brother who’d eagerly watched half of
Jaws
with her before their parents had caught them and put a stop to it. He’d stopped being that person when he’d transferred his loyalty from their father to their uncle Carlos – their father’s brother by blood but not by association. “I think he feels like we’re disrespecting him by refusing to have anything to do with him. He really wants us to attend his wedding this summer. And I think maybe a part of him actually does miss having a family.”

They paused their conversation as a waitress appeared at the side of the table and took their orders.

“I thought he said the gang was his family,” Melissa mused when the waitress had gone.

That was exactly what Manny had said when he’d joined the gang known as Casa de Ladrillos, a reference to the little brick house that the gang had been started in – a house that had been hell for their father until he’d escaped it during his late teens. “He did. Years ago when he was nineteen and left to be Carlos’ underling. Maybe he’s finally realized how twisted Carlos is.”

“Took him long enough.” Melissa set her coffee cup down on the table, looking suitably disgusted, like the good friend she was.

“Yeah, but in a way I wish he hadn’t realized it at all. It’s not like he’s going to cut ties with the gang. He just wants to suck us into that life. He kept saying things about how I wouldn’t have to fight and would be better off if he was in our lives. Like we’d want his money or something.”

“I guess it really has been a while since he’s known you,” Melissa said drily. “I can’t imagine you giving up fighting, even if you won the lottery.”

Ally nodded. Give up MMA? Never. “I do it for the money because I need the money. If I didn’t, I’d do it just to challenge myself. He doesn’t get that.” He didn’t get anything, really.

“What are you going to do about him coming around?”

“I don’t know.” A twinge of guilt assailed her, making her heart feel small and tightly-trapped inside her chest. “I told him we didn’t want him around because of his lifestyle, but he couldn’t care less. And after last night, I feel kind of guilty.”

“Guilty?” Melissa raised an eyebrow, her expression disbelieving.

“Yeah.” Ally inhaled and held the breath a little longer than usual, as if the oxygen could supplement her courage. She didn’t fear her friend’s reaction. It was the simple process of speaking what she’d been thinking out loud that she dreaded. “Manny told me something last night.” Keeping her voice low and leaning across the table, she explained Manny’s revelation as quickly as she could.

The waitress who’d taken their orders reappeared with two plates of waffles. Ally leaned back while the woman set them on the table, making friendly small talk with Melissa. They spoke briefly about work – something about the following week’s shift schedule. Ally didn’t really hear. It was a relief when the waitress left.

“He killed because of me, with Carlos’ help. I can’t help but think – what if that was like, the point of no return for him?” Manny had begun to show signs of rebellion before then, after their father had gone to prison. With their father gone, Carlos had come around the house under the pretense of watching out for his brother’s family. Really, he’d been poaching Manny for his gang. Had he lured him in for good with the promise of revenge?

“Manny knew about your dad’s history with his brother. He was nineteen, not a kid like your dad was when Carlos started manipulating him. He made his own decision.” Melissa leaned across the table, wearing an expression of determination she sometimes donned before matches. “Do
not
blame yourself for the life he willingly chose to lead.”

Ally’s insides twisted. It was hard to be sure if the uncomfortable sensation was due to stubborn guilt over Manny or a result of worrying her friend. Maybe both. “What if he chose it because of me, though? I know I
shouldn’t
feel guilty, but I don’t think I can help it.”