Flee (17 page)

Mateo

Crap. This had to be one of the most frustrating exercises of my life. Six weeks of going through Blake's dad's boxes and nothing. Of course, it would help if we knew what we were looking for. How many hours had been wasted chasing false leads? The most frustrating thing was not knowing if or why Blake was in danger.

No
, the most frustrating thing was Danny Morales. What I wouldn't give to beat the truth out of him. I was sure he wasn't who he was posing to be. I was even more sure he knew the missing link we were searching for. He and his
father
were already quite popular at West Austin Academy. It wouldn't go over well if I were to use him to hone my boxing skills. I was okay with that, but Blake held me back. I believe her actual quote was “
Dial down the machismo and use some common sense
.” His charm was getting to her, too, I could tell. More and more she was convinced he was the eighteen-year-old high school senior he claimed to be. Ha! If he was a day under twenty-two, I would eat my shorts. I stood and kicked the box in front of me, causing Hector to look up from the file he was reading.

“That's not going to help. I should know. I've tried it myself.”

“I'm going to find Blake,” I said in response. This room full of monitors and boxes and missing information was driving me crazy, but Blake kept me grounded. Had I really only known her a little over two months? I hadn't known what I'd been missing before I met her. Now when she wasn't by my side, I felt her absence keenly.

I found her in the kitchen with my mom. They had grown really close over the past few weeks. Blake, severely missing and mourning her own mother, was drawn to mine. And Mom, also mourning more and more with each passing day that she didn't hear from my father or brother, was comforted by Blake.

I paused at the back door for a minute without opening it, watching the two women I loved and was determined to keep safe. Blake, always beautiful, looked better than ever. She was no longer almost anorexic-thin, and I almost never saw her haunted look anymore. Sorrow, yes. I knew she would always miss her family, and it would be a long while before their memory wasn't painful. But she seemed at peace now, and as she healed and her personality came back to life, I was often surprised by her feistiness. But never annoyed. I loved her spunk. No one would ever make her do something she didn't want to, even me. I couldn't wait to see how this translated onto the soccer pitch. I guessed she would be a force of nature.

Mom was spunky too. I knew that was what kept her going, despite her growing sorrow over our family's division. Anger began to boil over inside of me, and I swallowed it back down. It wouldn't be helpful to lose my temper.

Why was Dad being so stubborn? He had to know how much pain his continued silence was causing Mom. I'd never known him to deliberately hurt her before now. On the other hand, I expected this out of Juan Carlos. Thankfully, Thomas now called her every week, carefully choosing a time when Dad and JC were not around. He never used his cell or the house phone, nor did he use the
secret agent
phone he reserved for conversations with me, which also took place weekly now. I wasn't sure what he called on. I was just glad he called. Thomas was helping us with our investigation of Blake's dad, but he also had turned up nothing. He hadn't had better luck with the family finances either, but he continued to work diligently on each.

Doodles barked, and Blake looked over and saw me at the door. The smile that lit her face erased all of my frustration. She came to greet me, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the kitchen. “What took you so long?”

“Yeah, it's been like a whole hour since I saw you.” I teased, but I
had
missed her. Mom, watching us, smiled.

Blake was at my house a lot these days. She hated having the Williamses' privacy invaded with surveillance, not that they were aware of anything. I preferred her being here also. It was more secure. When she was at the Williamses', I was often with her. But I couldn't be with her at night. I worried about her then. As a result, she slept better than I did these days. Sometimes I joined the security team at the rented house across the street, just to be close in case something happened. But as was the case with the boxes, so far there had been nothing.

Maybe she'd been right, and I was overreacting, but the feeling in my gut wouldn't go away. She was in danger. I could sense it. I just couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Again I fought the urge to go find Danny and force the truth out of him. He was really getting to me. Now that football season was over and soccer workouts were about to begin, I found myself daydreaming about ramming into him on the field. Just a little body slam to the ground every once in a while. He could consider it a warning. And they didn't issue red cards at practices. I could get away with it.

“Hey, Mateo, you in there?” Blake was playfully knocking on my head. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Well, I couldn't share that information with her. She definitely wouldn't approve. I mentally cursed Danny and his charm.

“Just frustrated.” I didn't elaborate, and she didn't ask. She probably knew where my frustrations lay.

She took in my face and posture, and her grip on my hand tightened. “Let's go for a walk.”

I let her lead me out the back door to the trail that led past the pool, down the slope and to the back gate of the property. This had become a routine of sorts. We didn't exit the gate, but sat on the big rock just on our side of the barbed-wire fence line.

It was not a picturesque location, but we knew it was a small blind spot on the security surveillance and that we could sit here and talk without being watched. It didn't make Hector or Foster happy when we came here, but they agreed to leave us alone as long as I had my phone with me.

Blake sat with her knees pulled up to her chin, her arms encircling her legs. She bit her lip as she stared into the trees. I could tell there was something on her mind.

“You know, brooding is not really your style,” I said. “Just spit it out. I don't bite. What's bothering you?”

Silence was no longer her style either. Not since first meeting her had I needed to coax her to speak. I wondered what made her so quiet now. I sat quietly and waited, enjoying how the breeze moved through her hair. She fidgeted and finally turned to face me, her cheeks a surprising shade of pink.

“Mateo, do I… am I…” She stuttered and looked down, the stain on her cheeks bright red now. I lifted her chin so that I could see her eyes, but they were closed. I chuckled.

“Wow, this is really unlike you. What's so hard to say that it's left you speechless? I'm completely intrigued.” I was also a little concerned. She had been quiet when I had first met her, but that was due to sorrow and trauma. I didn't want to see her revert back to that. She finally opened her eyes and looked at me.

“Am I attractive to you?”

“What?” I blurted this so loudly I was sure the guards on duty could hear me up at the house. What a ludicrous thing to ask. Was there ever anyone more beautiful than she was? “Why do you ask that?”

Blake was looking down again, her words so quiet that I had to strain to hear her answer. “Because you don't ever touch me.”

Now I was really confused. I touched her all the time. Well, almost all the time. Public displays of affection were not allowed at school, and I wanted to be respectful of the policy, mostly because I was hyper-vigilant about Blake's reputation. I had to constantly remind myself not to grab her hand or put my arm around her while on campus. Of course, they couldn't stop me from looking at her. It was my favorite pastime.

“I don't understand,” I replied. “I touch you all of the time.” I stroked her arm with my left hand for emphasis. My right hand was clutched in hers.

She mumbled something so low I couldn't make it out.

“What?” I asked softly.

She whispered her reply so quietly I had to lean in close to make out the words. “You never kiss me.”

“Oh.” I almost laughed at the irony. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her. No, if I was honest, I wanted much more than that. That was why I wouldn't let myself do it. It took every ounce of self-control I had, not to mention perfecting the fine art of distraction, to keep my hands in respectable places. I would not take advantage of her. I found it amusing that in my efforts to protect her, I had hurt her, if only emotionally.

“Blake, I want nothing more than to kiss you.” I traced her lips with my finger and then stopped. That was too much, and she was too close, and for once no one was watching us. It was a dangerous place to be. I took an unsteady breath and continued.

“I've never desired anything more than I desire you. You're beautiful, and I love you so much that not kissing you, not holding you as tight as I can is the hardest thing I think I've ever had to do.”

She looked bewildered. “But I want you to kiss me. Why are you stopping yourself?”

“Blake, if I kiss you, really kiss you, I don't know if I can stop myself from doing more. I want more.” I paused, my breath slightly shaky. It was hard to maintain control just talking about it. “But I won't do that to you. I guess I'm just an old-fashioned guy. When you get married, I want you to be able to give your husband a gift you've given no one else. I want to be able to do the same for my wife. By the way,” I said, leaning closer to whisper in her ear even, though I knew no one could overhear us. “I hope that's you.”

Her head snapped up then, and she looked deep into my eyes. There were tears in hers, which she impatiently wiped away. “I hope so, too. Mateo, I love you. I never want to be with anyone else. Isn't that good enough?”

“Nope, sorry. What if you change your mind? You're not in the best emotional state of your life to be making forever decisions. What if you find out I'm a selfish brute, and you decide you hate me? What if I begin to bore you?”

Blake laughed and shook her head no, muttering "Impossible” under her breath. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but she remained silent. “Well, this just sucks,” she finally said, but smiled. She snuggled in closer to my side, leaning her head on my shoulder. She smelled like lavender shampoo, minty toothpaste, and beauty itself. “You really are my superhero, aren't you? Protecting me not just from any perceived outside dangers, but even from the danger you think I pose to myself.”

I laughed and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Back to where we can be seen and heard before I forget everything I just told you. I'm trying to keep you safe, but you're making it amazingly hard. Could you please try to be a little less attractive?”

“I'll do my best,” she muttered, following me grudgingly.

I could smell dinner cooking as we neared the house. I laughed when I heard Blake's stomach growling.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you for eating?” I asked.

“That's a goofy thing to be proud of. You never hear any parents bragging about their kids' eating.
‘My daughter has a beautiful voice. You should hear her sing.'
'Yeah, well you should see mine eat. It's like poetry in motion.'
”

“Well, maybe you should hang around a family of Sumos. I bet you would hear that kind of stuff.”

“Great, so now I eat like a Sumo. Maybe I'll just go from one extreme to another, put on a good two to three hundred pounds. Then I wouldn't be attractive, and we wouldn't have a problem.”

She was irritated. I tried to soothe her hurt feelings.

“We don't have a problem now, as long as we stay within some healthy boundaries. And it wouldn't work, you know. Even at four hundred pounds I'd still love and be attracted to you. You can't change who you are, even if you change how you look.”

Blake stuck her tongue out at me, but she seemed to accept what I was saying. I hoped she wasn't too aggravated. I had something I wanted to ask her, and I wasn't sure how she would respond. I sat down on the outdoor couch and pulled her down beside me. Doodles jumped up on her other side. It was the only couch he was allowed on, and he took full advantage of it.

“Blake,” I started. She could tell from my tone of voice that I had something serious to say. She turned to look at me, her eyes both expectant and wary. “Today we'll finish going through all of the boxes from your dad's offices. We haven't found anything. The only things left are the two boxes of personal stuff that you had in your room.”

I paused and looked at her, measuring her response. We had purposefully not looked in those boxes. They seemed sacred somehow, as if they contained what was left of Blake's family. I had put them in the corner of my room and left them untouched, hoping I could return them intact. But we had struck out, and they were all that remained.

Blake was silent, her eyes downcast. She absently stroked Doodles' back, but she seemed far away. After a few minutes she spoke, her voicing sounding small and vulnerable. “Okay. Let's do it then. Can it just be you, though? And can I do it with you?”

“Are you sure you're up for that?” I knew that in the last eight months since her parents' murders she had only managed to pull two items from those boxes. I hated that I couldn't give her the time she needed to prepare herself for that. “I can go through it myself and return everything just the way it was. If I find anything, I'll show it to you first, if you like, before Hector and the security team.”

“No,” she returned, her green eyes as deep and consuming as the ocean. “I think I need to do this. It's time. I can't be scared of those boxes anymore. I need to do this if I'm ever going to be at peace. It'll be hard.” She paused and tightened her hold on my hand. Her voice shook when she continued. “You'll have to be strong for me.”