Dalila
“Dalila, you need to get some rest,” Juan Camacho says to me as I sit on his sofa and stare at the clock on his wall. He hands me a mug filled with champurrado. I breathe in the cocoa and it immediately comforts me.
“Gracias, Juan,” I say. “I can’t sleep. I’m worried about Ryan.”
The old man smiles warmly at me, his deep wrinkles and white hair showing every bit of his age.
Last night I came here and told Juan about what happened with Ryan and my suspicions about my father. He said I shouldn’t judge before knowing all the facts, but I can’t help it. There are just too many things pointing to the fact that my father’s engaged in illegal activity with one of the cartels.
“Stop worrying so much, Dalila,” Juan says as he shuffles to his rocking chair and slowly takes a seat. “I know your father as a good, honorable man.”
“Then why is he involved with bad people?”
“I don’t know.” He rocks back and forth. “These old bones don’t get involved in other people’s lives. Not anymore, anyways.”
“Were you ever involved in the cartels?”
“No.” He takes a long, slow sip of champurrado. “The promise of unlimited power lures young men in. It’s intoxicating and alluring.” He chuckles to himself. “They get duped into thinking they’re invincible when they’re just dispensable pawns. I’m not anyone’s pawn,” he tells me. “I never have been.”
“Why did you quit boxing?” I ask.
“Something else more important lured me away.” He motions to the other bedroom. “She’s sleeping in there. When my wife got ill, I stopped dedicating my life to anything else but her.”
I think about how tough it must be for him to take care of Valeria. I remember stories of her coming to our house. My mother told me she was an intelligent and vibrant person who lit up a room as soon as she entered it. “I’m sorry about Valeria,” I tell him.
“Don’t be sorry, Dalila. She has some good days and when she looks in my eyes I still see her spirit. The love doesn’t stop even in times of illness.”
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation.
“It’s Franciso Cruz,” a familiar voice bellows.
Rico’s dad.
I stiffen at the sound of his name.
“Wait,” I whisper, then motion to Juan that I’ll be hiding in the other room where Valeria is resting. He nods, understanding that I’m not ready to reveal to anyone where I’ve been hiding out. Grabbing my backpack, I quickly flee into the other room and hide behind the door as Juan lets him in. If Valeria wakes up and starts talking to me, Don Cruz will surely know something’s up.
“I usually don’t like visitors,” Juan tells him.
“I’m not a visitor,” Don Cruz says as he walks inside. “I’m an old friend. Right?”
“Sí.” I can hear the clink of Juan’s spoon stirring his champurrado. He’s completely relaxed, as if this is an ordinary visit from an ordinary friend. It’s anything but.
“Have you been busy?” Don Cruz asks.
“Not really.”
Peeking through the door frame, I see Don Cruz walk over to the mug I’d been drinking out of. “Do you have a guest?”
Juan shakes his head. “Just Valeria.”
“How is she these days?”
Juan doesn’t answer. Instead he picks up both mugs and brings them to the sink. “It’s obvious this isn’t a social call, Francisco, and I’m too old and cranky to play games. Why are you here?”
“I need to know if you’ve had any contact with Ryan Hess.”
“What do you want with Ryan?”
“Let’s just say he’s a wanted man. I have people who said he crossed into Mexico yesterday.”
Juan raises a skeptical brow. “Wanted by who?”
“Las Calaveras.”
“What crime is the young man accused of?”
“Why all the questions, Juan? Either you’ve seen him, or you haven’t. It’s a simple question.”
“Nothing is simple, Francisco. We both know that.” Juan turns to Don Cruz, his face unreadable. “I was training Ryan at the gym, but from what I understand he went back to Texas. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What about Dalila Sandoval? She’s missing, too.”
“Is she wanted as well?” Juan asks in an almost mocking tone. “The girl isn’t a threat to anyone.”
After a long, brittle silence Don Cruz says, “Her father betrayed Las Calaveras.”
There’s an unspoken threat in the air and my stomach churns with increasing intensity. My father’s involvement put a target on my back. Whether or not I like it, I’ve been forced into being a pawn.
Don Cruz stares at Juan, a chilling stare that makes me shiver. He takes a business card out of his suit pocket. “If you see either of them, call me. And if you see them and don’t call, there’s a price to pay. I don’t play games either, Juan.”
When Juan opens the door to let Don Cruz out of the apartment, I look down at my trembling hands. I know I can’t stay here any longer.
After giving enough time for Don Cruz to be out of hearing range, I join Juan in the living room. He’s got a somber look on his face.
“I can’t stay here,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “If I do, your life is in danger.”
“I do not fear Francisco Cruz or anyone else.”
“You have enough responsibility with Valeria. I won’t let you take on more stress.” I pick up my backpack. “I’ll find Ryan. Maybe Mateo has seen him. Besides you, he’s the only friend in Mexico that Ryan has.”
“I assume Las Calaveras will be contacting Mateo,” he says. “It’s just not safe to leave right now.”
I’m scared, but an eerie calm washes over me. I have a mission to find Ryan. He saved me from danger that first night at the club. It’s time I step up and become his heroine.
“I’m sorry, Juan. I have to go. Nothing you say will stop me. Ryan needs me and I’m not going to abandon him. Someone needs to warn him and make sure he’s safe from . . . everyone.”
He gazes toward the bedroom, toward his sick wife. “I wish I could go with you.”
“I know.”
The old man heads to the closet and pulls out a big gray jacket. “Put this on as a disguise.”
I slip the jacket on and pull up the hood. I can definitely hide my identity this way, just in case anyone is looking for me. I wrap Juan into a big hug and feel his long, scratchy beard on my cheek. “Thank you, Juan.”
After I release him, he braces his hands on my shoulders. “I should be calling your father and telling him you’re here. But I won’t.”
“Gracias.”
My father helped Juan a long time ago, so there’s a loyalty that he’s betraying for me. When I arrived in the early hours this morning and knocked on his door, I told him the entire story about my father and his sketchy behavior. He didn’t believe that my dad would be involved in the cartels but couldn’t rule it out. He said everyone has a price.
“If you can’t find Ryan, you come back here or go home. Be skeptical of everyone you meet.”
Determined to stay strong, I put my shoulders back and stand tall. I can do this. “You are a wonderful man, Juan Camacho.”
“You’re one of the strongest people I know, Dalila Sandoval. And I’ve met some tough pendejos in my time.”
With the hood covering most of my face, I walk out of his apartment and onto the street. As I duck around corners and head for the grassy trails in the distance, I know where I’m headed.
Right back to the lion’s den.