Run the Risk Read online

  DEDICATION

  For Paul VanderGriendt

  Tough as Nails

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Déjà Vu

  Divas

  Live Wire

  Throwback

  Slammed

  Our Little Secret

  The Catch

  Recon

  Need

  Ambulance

  Exposed

  Twisted

  Run

  Safe Haven

  The Gift

  Mine

  Team Me

  Bleeding Heart

  Fireball

  The Wedding

  Back Ads

  About the Author

  Books by Allison van Diepen

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  DÉJÀ VU

  I SAW MATEO THE MOMENT he entered the movie theater’s concession area, sensed him like a dog senses a tsunami.

  Should I run for cover?

  I turned away and focused on wiping powdered sugar off the counter. I’d never expected to see him again.

  Feenix waved a hand in front of my face. “You okay, Grace? You see a ghost or something?”

  He might as well be a ghost, because as far as I was concerned, the boy who’d been my first love was gone. I hadn’t seen him in four years.

  “Do you know the new security guy?” she asked, jabbing my waist.

  “I used to.” I grabbed a J-cloth and sprayed the counters. It was almost time to close up the pretzel booth for the night.

  Feenix looked him over. “He’s damn juicy, if you ask me.” She made a point of objectifying guys—it was part of her feminist role-reversal plan.

  Back when I’d dated Mateo, she wouldn’t have said that. He’d been tall and lanky then, with more than his fair share of acne. I’d seen past the acne, though—and what I saw was the cutest, smartest guy around.

  He looked different now; the boy had turned into a man. His broad shoulders had filled out and his tanned arms were ripped, like he could do pull-ups without breaking a sweat. The dark ink of a tattoo peeked out from beneath his left sleeve. Probably a gang tattoo, I thought bitterly.

  “Juicy or not, he’s with Los Reyes,” I said. “Or used to be.”

  Feenix’s eyes widened, and I wished I could swallow back my words. The fact was, I had no idea what he’d been up to the last few years, and it wasn’t fair to mess with his reputation on his first day.

  “Luke wouldn’t let any gang members work here—you know that,” she said. “He can smell ’em a mile away.”

  It was true. Our boss was a former member of the Brothers-in-Arms biker gang, and he didn’t put up with any gang drama among staff or customers. Luke was up front about the fact that he’d done time in his early twenties, but he’d cleaned up his act. Now he owned Cinema 1, one of the few successful independent movie theaters in Miami.

  Feenix gave me a meaningful look. “Security Guy screwed you over, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.

  “It was a messy breakup, but I was like, fifteen. I can’t even remember the details.”

  “We all remember when we were fifteen. But since Kenny’s waiting, I’ll give you a pass for now.” She grabbed her velvet clutch and hugged me. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Bye, sweets.”

  “Bye.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Mateo as he walked the hallway past the theaters. Until now, I’d stayed partially hidden by the glass pretzel display. He might notice me anytime, so I’d better quit staring. But I couldn’t. I’d always wondered what happened to him. My ears had perked whenever someone mentioned him, but it had been rare.

  Here he was, in the flesh. I wasn’t surprised that Luke thought he’d be good security. He definitely looked tough enough to scare the shit out of any troublemakers.

  Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me right away. I’d been dyeing my mousy brown hair blond recently. And he wasn’t the only one who’d filled out.

  His eyes scanned past me, then stopped dead. Question answered.

  Uh-oh.

  Should I smile or give him a who cares look? Unable to decide, I looked away. My heart pounded in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to walk in my direction. Before he got too close, a customer stopped him to ask a question.

  I grabbed a broom and swept the floor. Our concession was the smallest one at the theater, just a few square feet between the popcorn stand and the burrito bar. As I cleaned, I stayed low. I didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not ever.

  Mateo was a bruise that was still achingly sensitive when touched. Maybe it was because we’d never had real closure. Or maybe it was because we’d broken up just four months after Mom died. In my memory it was all wrapped together in a big, twisted knot of pain.

  The knot of pain was in my closet now, in a box full of love notes and pictures. That’s where I kept the promise ring. Just the thought of it made me want to gag. How stupid was I to believe that the promise ring meant we’d be together forever? That I will always love you meant just that. What a joke. I hadn’t been mature enough to see that it was simply a horny sixteen-year-old guy talking.

  Maybe Mateo caught my vibe, because he didn’t approach me after all. Minutes later, I closed up the booth, dropped the register with Eddie, the assistant manager, and headed out into the night.

  The sudden temperature change—from air-conditioning to April heat—slapped me in the face. I took off my cardigan and slung it over my handbag, looking down at my phone. The bus was coming in four minutes. If I hurried across the parking lot, I should make it.

  “Long time, huh?” said a voice behind me.

  “Jesus!” I put a hand to my chest. Mateo had materialized at my elbow like a ghost.

  “Sorry.” His dark brown eyes were watchful. “You took off fast.”

  “Got a bus to catch.” I did a double take. A scar slashed down his left cheek, from the corner of his eyebrow to his mouth. God, it was as if someone had tried to rip his face off. How the hell had that happened?

  His eyes shuttered, and I felt bad for making my reaction so obvious.

  I told myself not to feel sorry for him. He’d made the choice to join Los Reyes. I’d done everything I could to convince him not to. Getting hurt was part of the game.

  I sped up, squelching the urge to run across the parking lot. He kept pace easily. “You should probably get back,” I said. “I don’t want Luke to think you’re skipping out. He’s a hard-ass, you know.”

  “Is he?”

  “Yeah. Good guy, but a hard-ass. You full-time or part-time?”

  “Twenty hours a week. Thursday night to Sunday night.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I’m in the paramedic program at Miami-Dade. I’ve got training shifts earlier in the week—seven at night till seven in the morning.”

  I blinked. I couldn’t believe that he was in college and I wasn’t. In what universe?

  I bet he thought he was hot shit, too. “Paramedic, huh? Good for you.” I didn’t mean it to sound snarky, but that’s how it came out. “Look, I’ve gotta run. My bus—” Just as I said it, the bus shot by.

  “Shit!” I had the worst bus luck ever. Way too early or seconds too late. That was my life.

  “Sorry if I slowed you down,” he said with genuine regret. “I can drive you home. I’m due for a break.”

  “No thanks, it’s fine.” I kept walking toward the bus stop, then sat down on the bench inside the shelter and took out my phone. The best way to shut a guy down, in my experience, was to start texting.

  He came into the bus shelter, his head almost touching the ceiling. It was just him and me and the dirt-streaked, graffiti-tagged walls around us.
His nearness made my pulse pound and my armpits go slick. All this time, and he still affects me, damn it.

  “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to look up. My throat felt dry. “Yep, see ya.”

  I held my breath, waiting for him to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him finally head back toward the theater. Only then did I exhale.

  When I opened the door to my house an hour later, my stomach sank.

  There were five guys in my living room, reeking of sweat and cologne. Pizza boxes, crumpled napkins, and beer cans littered the room. Did they have to be here tonight? Hadn’t seeing Mateo shaken me up enough?

  I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Dad had left this afternoon to drive a load to the Northeast, and he’d be gone for two weeks—probably more if he visited his girlfriend in Atlanta.

  “Hi,” I said, but nobody looked up. They were all enthralled by a video game.

  “Alex?” I said to my brother.

  “Shhh!” He had a controller in his hand and waved me away. Alex looked like Mom’s side of the family, the Hernandezes, but with Dad’s blue eyes. His black hair was buzzed short with lightning bolts on the sides. He was five nine, but he had a seven-foot-tall chip on his shoulder.

  Living with Alex was like living with a live wire. You tiptoed around it. Tried not to touch it because it just might spark and burn you.

  Animale got off the couch and walked up to me. “Hey there, hermana. How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” I said.

  Animale was slightly shorter than me, and good-looking in a slick, disturbing way. Piercing green eyes raked over me, as if assessing my ripeness. He was the only one who ever bothered to talk to me—and I wished he hadn’t.

  “We’ll take off when their game’s finished,” he said. “It could be a while, though. My boys here think they can make it to Level 13.”

  As if Level 13 meant anything to me. “He’s got school tomorrow.”

  “Of course he does, Grace.” He gestured as if there was a feast laid out. “We’ve got pizza and beer. Help yourself, honey.”

  I wanted to refuse the pizza as a matter of pride, but damn it, I was starving, and I knew the fridge was empty. I grabbed a middle slice—one their grubby hands hadn’t touched, hopefully—and sat down on the couch.

  I chewed slowly, too upset to actually taste the pizza. I’d told Alex so many times not to bring them here. But the moment Dad went out of town, they were back. As usual.

  Alex had started hanging around with these guys almost a year ago. I didn’t like them on sight. Why would they want to hang out with my brother, who was several years younger than them? My instincts had been right. Alex had gone from a regular kid to a thug overnight. Although they never talked about it in front of me, I knew they were members of the Locos—the most violent gang around.

  I hated them.

  Last May, they’d all gotten arrested for armed robbery—no doubt Animale had masterminded it. The last two months of my senior year of high school had been turned upside down. With the stress of Alex’s arrest, I’d had a bit of a breakdown. I didn’t finish two term papers and failed three exams. It was a wonder I’d graduated at all. But my GPA had plummeted, and my acceptance to the Early Childhood Education program at Miami-Dade had been revoked.

  After a few months of hell, the charges against them were dropped due to some legal loophole. I’d been left to pick up the pieces of my life—just like I had to pick up the mess they left whenever they came over.

  As I finished the slice of pizza, I could feel Animale’s eyes on me. I finally raised my head. His eyes sharpened. He saw the hatred on my face.

  He had a tiny teardrop tattoo below his right eye. I always wondered if the teardrop was meant to represent his tears or other people’s.

  I held his gaze, telling him without words that I wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t welcome here, and that in the tug-of-war for my brother, I intended to win.

  A smile pulled at his lips, revealing sharp incisors. For him, this was a game. Maybe even a turn-on. It made me sick.

  I got up and went to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from this morning. When I finished, I took out my phone and killed time, waiting for them to leave. I never went to bed while they were here, no matter how late they stayed. I’d even thought about getting a lock for my bedroom door.

  If Alex wanted to leave with them, I’d have to stop him. If he left with them now, there was no way he’d get up for school tomorrow. He was fifteen, for God’s sake. School wasn’t optional.

  An hour later, I heard them getting ready to go.

  I stood in the kitchen doorway as they filed out, eyes on Alex. He was sitting on the couch in the midst of the mess they’d made. A good sign. He wasn’t leaving.

  Animale was the last to step out the door. He gave me a slick smile. “Hasta luego.”

  I stared at him coldly. I hoped there wouldn’t be a next time.

  Once the door closed, I turned to Alex.

  “I told you not to bring them here!”

  He shrugged. “So? We needed someplace to hang tonight.”

  “Maybe they should get jobs instead of hanging all the time. That’s what most people do.”

  His chin jutted. “I’m sick of you judging my friends.”

  “Judging them? They’re the reason you almost got locked up! They’re the reason I lost my college acceptance!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with that again. Ain’t their fault you couldn’t keep your shit together.”

  I wanted to slap him. I didn’t even know who he was anymore. He used to be a good kid.

  “Animale’s crazy,” I said. “If you follow him, he’s gonna ruin your life. I don’t want to see you get arrested again or . . . or worse.”

  “Don’t you dare talk shit about Animale,” he said through gritted teeth. “He’s awesome. The guy gets total respect wherever he goes. He ain’t afraid of anyone or anything.”

  And that’s a good thing? I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. Alex looked up to Animale. He was his hero.

  And there was nothing I could do about it.

  DIVAS

  “STAY STILL, OKAY?” I SAID, trying to hang on to the little girl’s tiny toes the next morning at the day care. “We want them to look pretty.”

  Four-year-old Rosalina squirmed excitedly on her chair. “But it tickles, Gwace!”

  Rosalina had been the most hyped-up of all the kids for Diva Day. She’d arrived this morning in a white bathrobe, flip-flops, and too-large sunglasses. She’d even said, “Hey, bitches!” as she strolled in the door, much to her mom’s horror.

  “We, um, don’t say words like that here, Rosalina.” I’d exchanged a glance with Kylie, and we stifled our laughter.

  Diva Day was Kylie’s idea, not mine. I’d organized last week’s Dance Party Day. I’d connected my iPod to a speaker and we shook our booties under a papier-mâché disco ball. When Kylie had suggested a Diva Day, I’d been doubtful. Painting preschoolers’ nails was a challenge. First of all, their nails were absolutely tiny. Second of all, they couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds.

  But the enthusiasm in the room was totally worth it.

  “How am I doing?” I lifted one of Rosalina’s feet, showing Kylie my handiwork.

  She looked up from Dasia’s manicure and gave a nod. “Lovely. Don’t forget your top coat.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Kylie took aesthetics very seriously. Half-Thai, half- Jamaican, she loved the highest heels, the teeniest skirts, and the most glittering bling. When I’d first started volunteering at Compass, I might have judged her a little—who dressed like that to work at a day care? But it turned out she was great with kids, and dressing like that was just her thing. She’d even found a way to kneel down in short skirts without showing off her panties. True, some kids tried to yank her boobs from her ultralow tops, but that didn’t bother her.

  When I
was done with Rosalina’s toes, I sent her over to the carpet to choose a book. She waddled over. “Look at me, eveebody!” Kicking off the flip-flops, she started to dance around. That girl loved to dance even when there was no music on. Music, apparently, played in her head twenty-four seven.

  “She’s messing up her toes,” Kylie grumbled.

  “Oh well.”

  Working with kids was hilarious. And messy. And exhausting.

  But we loved it.

  My mom and I had both chosen caring professions. She’d been a support worker at a nursing home for twenty years until she got sick. Some of the seniors she’d worked with couldn’t remember her from one day to the next. But she’d just say, Love’s never wasted. Mom was wise that way.

  I stretched, working out a kink in my neck. “Sofia, you’re next.”

  The little girl looked up from her book, a mass of black hair hiding her face. She shook her head.

  I walked over and sat down cross-legged, holding up my foot. “Do you like the turquoise on my toes? I also have pink, blue, peach, and . . . sprinkly, shiny cupcake!”

  She frowned. “That’s not a color.”

  “Silly me. That’s just what I call it because it’s got all different colors and some sparkles too. Want to come over and look at the bottle? It’s really cool.”

  At first, she didn’t move. But when I reached out for her hand, she placed it in mine. Sofia came to Compass last fall, just a week after I’d started volunteering here. As newbies we’d bonded, and I’d been her go-to buddy ever since. She hardly even made eye contact with the other staff.

  At my station, she picked up the nail polish bottle, turning it upside down and back again like a snow globe, watching the sparkles flutter down.

  “What do you think, Sof? Should we do one nail, then see if you’d like the rest painted?”

  She put her hands in front of me tentatively, as if she might want to pull them back. Her nails were a mess—you could tell they’d chipped off rather than been cut. Although she was only four, she knew it was embarrassing, and the look on her face broke my heart.

  “Let’s soak them in water first to get your nails softened up. They’re easier to paint that way. Then we’ll cut them round like the moon. This is exciting!”