On the Edge (18 page)

I WOULD NEVER FORGET HEARING THE DOCTORS
gasp when they cut open Ortiz's clothes. The trauma unit usually saw victims of car wrecks and construction accidents. Not torture.

But Ortiz was a survivor. Over the next few hours, X kept reminding me of that. And he was right. Ortiz would get through this.
We
would get through this.

The hospital staff wanted to contact his family. X and I explained that we were his family, and that we had no intention of leaving his side. We took turns holding his hand. Sometimes he'd make sounds in his sleep, a piercing cry or a terrible groan.

I texted my mom.

It was all I could tell her for now, maybe for a long time yet. There were still Reyes out there, and still Destinos to protect.

Ortiz woke up the next evening. His eyes opened, blood red with burst vessels. He grabbed my hand and said, “Kelsey.”

X and I exchanged a worried look. The doctor had warned us that Ortiz could be confused when he woke up. But it had never occurred to me that he wouldn't recognize me.

“No, it's me, Madeleina,” I said gently. “You're at the hospital. You're safe.”

Ortiz's mouth was puffy, but he repeated, “Kelsey.”

“She's out of the hospital now,” X assured him. “Wasn't hurt bad. Said she was going back to her family.”

“No.” Ortiz's hand gripped mine tightly. “It was
her
.”

Before I could vocalize my shock, X said, “Kelsey was the leak? Is that what you're saying?”

“Yeah.” Ortiz eased back into the pillow, relieved to have conveyed his message.

“God damn her!” X said.

Ortiz swallowed, and I could see even that movement caused him pain. “What about . . . everyone?”

I glanced at X. We'd decided not to tell him about Rubio's death, not until he was stronger. But I wavered. I didn't think Ortiz would believe us if we lied.

X answered, “The safe house was attacked. Felix and Rubio were there. Felix got the girls out in time.” He glanced at me, unsure of what to say next.

“And Rubio?” After a few beats of silence, Ortiz turned away from us and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It was a bullet, Lobo,” X said. “Quick. He didn't suffer.”

Ortiz took a ragged breath, his eyes still closed. But when he opened them again, they glistened with tears.

“I can't believe Kelsey turned on you. Doesn't make any sense.” But even as I said it, something niggled at my brain. Hadn't Kelsey told me that loving Salazar had been her addiction? It hadn't occurred to me that she had still been struggling with it.

“She was still in love with Salazar,” I said. “That's why.”

Ortiz gave a weak nod. “He said she begged him to take her back.”

“And sold us all out.” X's rage rippled through the room.

“She gave me up, no one else,” Ortiz said. “But Salazar's guys tailed her, found the safe house.”

X was incredulous. “Kelsey thought she could trust Salazar? She was delusional. She must've known what he'd do to you.”

“She knew,” Ortiz said. “I'm the one she hates.”

I didn't understand. “Why? You're the one who rescued her.”

Ortiz looked at me through bloodshot eyes. “That's why. She never wanted to be rescued. She wanted to die.”

It took several moments for that to sink in. Kelsey had wanted to destroy herself—maybe as a sign of her love for Salazar. Ortiz had forced her to survive, but he hadn't been able to heal her.

“Kelsey will have to live with what she did, or die with it,” X said. “Salazar is dead. Her gamble left her fucked.”

“But we got him.” Ortiz's swollen mouth tried to smile. “You got him, X.”

X shook his head. “I can't take the credit, Lobo. It was El Chueco who killed him.”

Ortiz stared at him. “El Chueco?”

“Your girlfriend called in a favor.” X gave me an admiring look. “You're a tough bitch, Maddie Diaz. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Ortiz turned to me in amazement. I lifted his bruised hand and brought it to my lips. “You're the one who said I had the alpha in me.”

Two weeks later, I was lying on his bed, gazing up at him. Ortiz was propped up on one elbow, his finger tracing a freckle on my chest. “I love you, Madeleina.”

He'd said it a hundred times already, and I'd said it a hundred times back. I couldn't help but think that if the world consisted of nothing but me and Ortiz, I would be happy forever.

But it didn't. There was a darkness, an ugliness beyond this bed and this room. We'd both seen it firsthand. And yet, somehow, it made us feel all the more lucky to be alive, and to have found each other.

We kissed, long and slow. Ortiz's recovery had wowed everyone, especially the doctors, but he still had a ways to go. He looked like the survivor of a car wreck. His arm was in a cast, broken in several places. His face and body bore the marks of Salazar's cruelty, and maybe always would. It didn't matter. I'd love each scar, each burn, and take his hurt as my own. And hopefully my love could heal the wounds that time wouldn't erase.

Ortiz had told me that if El Chueco's men hadn't stormed the building when they had, he would've been dead within minutes. He said he was lucky that Salazar had insisted on hurting him first, on pounding into his head how stupid he'd been to fuck with him.

Hours after Ortiz's rescue, Salazar's body had been found on the side of a highway near the warehouse. El Chueco could easily have made the body disappear, but he wanted to make headlines. His message to Miami:
I won
.

The new power of the cartel was no comfort to me. But Salazar would never hurt anyone ever again. And, from the word on the street, his trafficking business was crumbling.

Ortiz pulled back from the kiss, cradling my cheek. “I gave my landlord notice today.”

“Does that mean you're coming with me to Tallahassee?”

“Of course. That's always been the plan.” He raised an eyebrow. “You weren't sure?”

“I was hoping but . . . I didn't want to pressure you.”

“You haven't pressured me.” He was achingly beautiful when he smiled, even with the cuts and bruises that lingered on his face.

Our hands clasped together. “It's strange, you know,” he said. “I feel . . . happy. I don't think I've been happy for a long time.”

I knew that was true. He'd never felt that he deserved to be happy after what had happened to his sister.

“Andrea would be happy too,” I said.

I saw the emotion in his eyes. “I know.”

We kissed again. When he finally pulled back, he said, “X doesn't want me to move on.”

I frowned. “But Salazar's dead. And the Reyes can't hold it together without him. You said it yourself.”

“Salazar isn't the only trafficker out there. X is determined to keep going. The others are in too.”

That caught me off guard. I'd assumed that when Ortiz called it quits, the Destinos would disband. “Don't they need you as a leader?”

“X can lead. It's in him. I can't tell them to stop. It's their choice.”

“I've seen how loyal they are to you, especially X. He wouldn't leave your side in the hospital. I can't believe he doesn't understand why you need to move on.”

“He understands, all right. He just doesn't like it.” His eyes darkened. “Salazar was my demon, Madeleina. And he's dead now. But X, he has demons of his own. And they're not going to disappear anytime soon.”

Two exams down, one to go.

I sat at Café Varadero the following week, sipping my coffee and people-watching. Tomorrow's exam was English, and I was mostly prepared. I went over some of my class notes, watching the door for Julia.

She breezed in, looking chic and writerly in a white gauze dress and yellow belt. She hugged me tight. “How's it going? How's Ortiz?”

“I'm good. He's stubborn as hell. He's at physio right now working his legs.”

“He'd better keep at it. Eric says he challenged him to a fight next month—with one arm tied behind their backs.”

I rolled my eyes. “Eric could beat him senseless by using his cast against him. Hey, I have something to show you. Found it this morning.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a section of the
Miami Herald
.

Her eyes widened. “They published your letter to the editor!”

I nodded. “Look at that picture of Hector.”

She held the paper in front of her. It was a young, bare-chested Hector on the beach, his arm slung around his sister. Pure happiness.

As Julia stared at the picture, her eyes filled with tears. “Good stuff, girl.”

“Thanks to you. The info from his sister's page was really helpful. I'll forward you a copy to send to her in case she hasn't seen it yet.” I slid my laptop in front of her. “Check this out. There are more than fifty comments so far. People
got
it.”

I scrolled down so she could see the latest comments.

Julia raised her eyes. “It's not a coincidence that you were there to witness what happened to him that night. That you wrote this tribute for him.” She looked skyward. “Rest in peace, Hector.”

“I'm not sure if he can rest in peace yet.” In my mind, the calendar was flipping ahead. “I'll be there to speak for him at the trial next summer. And hopefully once his killers are convicted,
then
he can rest in peace.”

I GOT OUT OF THE LIMO IN A TOO-TIGHT,
too-short black dress, careful not to give anyone a peek of my panties. But that's what you get when you buy a dress off the rack two days before prom and don't have time to have it fitted to your measurements.

I couldn't believe I was here. I'd had no intention of going to prom, not with Ortiz still laid up at home. But he had encouraged me to go, and Iz wouldn't take no for an answer.

“I'm going to hire a transporter to throw your ass in a van,” Iz had threatened. “Trust me, you don't want that to happen. Because he'd drop you off on the dance floor in a T-shirt and shorts while the rest of us are looking stunning.”

So here I was, with Abby by my side. She'd gone to her own prom last week, and I'd had no trouble getting her to come along tonight.

As we entered the gymnasium, I was amazed at how the prom committee had transformed the place. It was a picture of white frilliness, from the long, white curtain backdrop to white bows everywhere. Although some pops of pink had been added in, it was all very weddingy. Then I remembered hearing that Miss Kemp, who had gotten married last weekend, had donated her decorations to the prom committee.

We were lucky to have a prom at all. Last year, a group of idiot jocks had gone crazy and trashed a hotel banquet hall, bringing on thousands in fines and clean-up costs. So the admin had decided to keep it at the school this year. Go figure. “Wonder who's getting married.” Abby frowned as she scanned the set up.

“Iz and Rob, by the looks of it,” I said. They were smoking hot on the dance floor. Although they weren't officially back together yet, it wouldn't be long now. Rob was still hung up on her, and Iz had gained a new appreciation for him after he'd dumped her. It probably wouldn't last, but who knew?

“You look amazing,” I said to Abby. “Let's send Kyle another pic.” I reached out for her phone. “Here, let's get one with the white backdrop behind you. Something sexy, for Kyle's fantasies. A boudoir photo.”

Abby struck a mock-sexy pose, lips pouting.

Click
. “Ha!” I showed her the picture.

She glanced at the photo, giggled, and sent it off. “Hey! He just sent me a photo!” She stared at it, hand over her heart, then passed me the phone.

It was a picture of Kyle in his camo fatigues, holding a pink flower toward the camera.

I put an arm around her. “That's so beautiful. One month left?”

She sniffed. “One month left.” She texted him quickly, then put away her phone. “Shall we dance?”

“Let's do this.”

We replaced our high heels with sparkly flip-flops and hurried onto the dance floor. Iz and Rob were bumping and grinding like there was no tomorrow. Well,
she
was bumping and grinding, and
he
was loving every minute of it.

The music was solid, a mixture of dance and electronic, which was better than you'd expect at a school prom. Because of the cash-strapped committee, my classmate, Max, was spinning the tunes. He was a shy science wiz by day, but he moonlighted as DJ Maximus.

“I love this song!” Iz cried out and started doing worship bows toward the DJ. We all joined in.

Then we were bouncing. Iz's dress was so low-cut that she had to hold herself in. The prom photographer, a junior named Ryan, hovered nearby snapping photos, poised for a wardrobe malfunction.

I was glad I'd come tonight. It was cool seeing everybody excited and dressed up. These last few months had been full of moments I wanted to forget and others I wanted to remember. I had a feeling that this moment, as we jumped up and down on the dance floor, was one to hang on to.

I felt a tug of yearning for Ortiz, but I reminded myself that I'd be with him soon. Forget the after-prom parties—I was going to Ortiz's place to snuggle with him until dawn.

When a slow song came on, Abby and I went to the punch table. One of the deans insisted on serving the punch himself, guarding it from spikers as if it were the Holy Grail.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. Abby was looking past me with a big smile.

“Wanna dance?” a male voice said behind me.

I turned around. “No way!”

Ortiz was standing there. He wore a white short-sleeved dress shirt, black tie slightly askew, and black jeans. His broken arm was in a sling. Any observer might say that with all his bruises and cuts, he looked like a dead prom king from a horror flick. But all I saw was the guy underneath, the one I loved so much it hurt. I hugged him, trying not to press on his injuries.

“I wanted to give you this.” With his good hand, he slid a corsage over my wrist. “Should we dance?”

“Sure, but . . . we could sit instead.”

“It's cool.” He took my hand.

We went to the dance floor and wrapped our arms around each other. Iz and Rob shouted us out.

“You didn't have to do this,” I said. “Must've hurt to stuff yourself into those clothes.”

“It's no big deal. I'm just not sure I got the tie right.”

I bit my lip against a laugh. “I think it looks cute.”

“I'll take cute over sloppy any day.” He smiled. “I figured if I didn't get to dance with you at your prom, I'd regret it. I want you to look back on your prom and remember me there.” He said against my hair, “I want you to remember that I loved you way back then.”

My heart melted. Tears rolled down my face, probably messing up my mascara. Oh well, we'd look like a dead prom king
and
queen, for all I cared.

He held me close, so close I could feel our hearts beating together. I asked myself the same question I'd been asking for weeks. How could I be so lucky to be loved by Ortiz?

I thought about what Julia had said—that nothing was random, that everything happened as it should. Maybe she was right. I wondered how I would've reacted six months ago if I'd been told that I'd be to hell and back, but would come out with the love of my life by my side. I hoped I would've said:
Bring it on
.