Mouse Trapped

by Manda Mellett

  Over the next couple of weeks, life’s great. Mariana really starts coming out of her shell, proving to be more adventurous than I expected both in and out of bed. I fall a little bit more in love with her every day, and become even more committed to somehow giving her the peace of mind that she can relax and make her home here. One thing bothers me, she adores the babies in the clubhouse, always wanting a cuddle, and proving a help, even offering to change diapers. She’d make such a great mom. That conversation the first morning plays on my mind. She’s sacrificing what she wants for all the right reasons, but it kills me she has to.

  “Sam said you’d be here.” Mariana walks across the rough ground. Her leg is now strong enough to move without crutches as long as she favours it and doesn’t overdo it.

  I pause, my hand in mid-air, then beckon her to me. Dutifully she raises her face, and I lean down to kiss her.

  “Jeez, you two lovebirds.” Blade’s shielding his eyes.

  I raise my mouth a fraction. “Shut it, Blade.” Then in a stage whisper, “He’s jealous, ignore him.” Spurred by his reaction, I put down what I was holding, put both arms around her, and kiss the hell out of my old lady. When we finally come up for air, I give him a pointed look.

  Her lips are swollen; she looks flustered and adorable. My assault seems to have made her forget why she wanted me. Instead, she looks around and asks, “What are you doing?”

  “Target practice,” Blade replies. As if to demonstrate, he picks up a knife and throws it at the target in front of us, frowning when he misses the cardboard man’s heart.

  I step forwards, taking a throwing knife, and aiming it. Grinning when I’m closer than he is.

  “Can I have a go?” Mariana looks intrigued.

  “You ever play darts?” Blade asks.

  She shakes her head. No, she’s probably never had much fun in her life.

  I hand her a knife, and show her how to hold it, demonstrating the action she requires. Blade’s eyes widen, then he pointedly comes to stand behind us. “You want to throw it that way.” He points toward the target.

  “She’ll be fine,” I respond, expecting I’ll have to go retrieve the weapon from the undergrowth, but hey, I’m learning I’ll do anything for my wife.

  Biting her lip in concentration, Mariana steps up. She pulls back her arm just like I showed her, then lets that knife fly… It lands right in the middle of the heart.

  “Beginner’s luck,” Blade growls, and hands her another.

  Fuck me. She’s done it again.

  Blade and I exchange glances. “Here.” I pass her a third. It knocks both her previous blades out.

  “I’ll be fucked,” Blade exclaims.

  It does rather put a damper on our practice time. She might be my wife, and I’m proud as fuck of her, but I’m a man after all. Blade and I make a few gestures, both agreeing we’ll resume another day when it’s just the two of us. Neither liking to be outdone by a woman.

  That Blade was impressed is confirmed later that night, when there in the clubhouse he makes a show of presenting Mariana with one of his favourite knives. Her look of pleasure at the recognition of her abilities makes her glow. My chin raise sends him my thanks; he shrugs them off.

  “What’s the matter?” The day after she’d shown me and Blade up with her knife throwing skills, I walk into our suite, sliding out of my cut. Mariana’s sitting on the bed with the new phone I’d bought for her in her hands.

  “That was Carissa. I’ve got a hearing date.”

  She clearly needs me. I go to her, pulling her into my arms. I don’t say platitudes or tell her everything will be fine. Nor do I tell her that I’ve been preparing for the worst, having already told Drummer, if she’s deported, I’ll be going with her. So I just hold her, letting her draw strength from me.

  Over the next couple of weeks, I make sure she knows how much I love her, nights spent proving it to her in bed. Around us life goes on as usual, but I know she feels like the Sword of Damocles is hanging over her head.

  “How’s Mariana holdin’ up?”

  I pause a moment before answering the prez sitting at the head of the table. We’ve just gone through the normal church business. Lowering the lid of my laptop, I at last respond. “Much as you’d expect. We’re both preparing for the worst, hoping for the best.”

  “No one in their right minds would send her back to Colombia,” Beef protests. “We all know what’s waiting for her there.”

  It’s a who, not a what, but I don’t correct him. “We expect ICE to come down pretty hard on her. She’s back in the US, entered illegally again. That will count against her.”

  “Her skin’s not the right colour for them,” Marvel sneers.

  I nod, it’s strange, though her colouring is actually similar to mine.

  “People are all riled up about illegal immigrants, expect them only to come here to commit crimes. From what I’ve seen of your ol’ lady, most of them are like her. Afraid to put a foot out of line in case they’re deported.”

  “Stats show unless they join a gang, and join’s the wrong word, forced into them more like, they’re more law abiding than folks who were born here.” I nod at Rock as I answer him.

  “Yeah, because citizens know the worst that can happen is jail time. Not being sent back to whatever shithole they came from,” Shooter sneers.

  Drummer lets Rock, Shooter and Marvel all have their say, eventually bringing it to a close. “Anything we can do, Mouse?”

  “Nah. As much as possible, I’ve got it handled. We’re taking some stuff for her in case the worst happens. I’ll take some shit too; I’ll be on the first plane I can and following her.”

  “You got a visa sorted?”

  I have. I’ve kept it from Mariana as it would upset her to know how serious I think the threat of deportation is. “Yeah, Prez.”

  Drummer wipes his hand over his beard. “I don’t know if everyone’s realised, but if Mariana gets deported again, Mouse will be gone for years, if not forever. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  I shake my head. “Sorry, Prez.”

  “No need for apologies, Brother. If it were Sam, I’d be doing the same thing.”

  “Losing too many good brothers lately. You’ll be off yourself soon, won’t you, Paladin?” Beef frowns, then turns to his neighbour. “I presume that’s still happening?”

  Slick shrugs. “Yeah. Drummer’s setting it up.” He doesn’t seem happy.

  “What about Drew?” Blade interjects, getting us back on topic.

  I glance at Prez who replies, “Sam and I will take care of him. Least until we know the score. Mariana and Mouse will need to get shit organised for if, and when, he decides to join them. Seems like we’re getting a reputation for picking up strays.” There’s a chuckle, though Heart looks uncomfortable. Drummer and Sam looked after his daughter when he couldn’t after the death of his first ol’ lady.

  “Drew okay with that?”

  I nod at Slick. “He knows he should finish his education. Once we get settled, he can come for visits. I’ll need to check out the ground first, make sure it’s safe.”

  “Don’t like the idea of you being on your own down there, Brother.”

  Me neither, but I don’t respond to Peg. What choice have I got? I’m not leaving Mariana to fend for herself.

  “Her father’s still out there,” Wraith reminds me unnecessarily.

  “There are MCs in Colombia. One in Bogotá. Might be safer if you joined up with them.”

  And start all over as a prospect. “I’ll think about it, Prez.”

  “Leastways they might give you protection if you need it. Worst happens? I’ll get in touch.”

  I raise my chin, showing my gratitude to Drummer. Fuck, this meeting is making me depressed. I’ve had these discussions with Mariana and Drew, but it’s always been in a hypothetical sense, the worst-case scenario. Sitting around this table is bringing it home that I could very soon be leaving this brotherhood. Not for weeks
or months, but as Drummer had said, years. It’s possible I’ll never be around this table again.

  I glance at the faces around me, it looks like the seriousness of the situation is dawning on my brothers too. I try to imprint the features of the men I’ll continue to call brothers wherever I end up, on my brain, committing them to memory. I might be thousands of miles away, but that won’t change how I feel about them. I take in Wraith, Blade, Dollar, Viper, Beef, Slick, Road, Paladin and Shooter. Joker and Lady at the bottom of the table, then Marvel, Jekyll, Hyde, Bullet and Peg. A wave of emotion washes over me.

  “Hey, I’ve got this picture in my mind. A ranch, horses and lots of them. Lush green scenery, mountains behind. Mouse and Mariana and a houseful of kids behind them.” Beef grins at me. “Great place to come for a visit.”

  “Put like that,” Road says. “May even come with you.”

  “You could grow your own marijuana,” Hyde suggests, a quick glance shows he’s serious.

  As other comments come to me, some of course inane, I shake my head, my lips curving. I’ll miss this.

  “You’ll get your dues paid, long as you’re still our computer guy,” Dollar reminds me.

  Drummer bangs the gavel. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The night before we set off for LA there’s no party in the clubhouse. Just people telling us to get our asses back here fast, grumbling we’re going to be away, all avoiding mentioning that we might not be coming home. We’ll be leaving early the next morning. Drew wanted to come with us, Mariana persuaded him not to, thinking if the outcome wasn’t what we were hoping, it would be too devastating for him. Both sister and brother are struggling to stay strong for each other.

  We walk up to the suites together. Drew hugs Mariana, holding her tight, and I give them the space to say what they need to. At least I know he’s got the horses and Jacob to keep him occupied. Old man and boy seem to have taken to each other.

  When she comes into my room, she’s crying. She grabs a tissue, blows her nose, and tries to wipe the tears away. “Make love to me, Tse?”

  She doesn’t need to ask me twice. Although I’ve vowed I won’t be parted from her, I love her so gently, so reverently, scared something could happen that would upset our plans.

  In the morning we leave.

  Chapter 40

  Mariana

  Tse was so gentle and loving last night, giving me precisely what I needed. But even after our extended lovemaking, I couldn’t sleep. I hate the tag that’s hanging around my neck, illegal. It seems unfair, I’m as American as the next person, it wasn’t my choice I was brought here as a child. My brief sojourn in Colombia left me with no desire to call that country home. I want to stay here. Chances are, that won’t be allowed. I’ve avoided the subject with Tse, I’m certain he’s banking on me being allowed to stay, I hadn’t wanted to upset him by making him face up to the fact that I most likely won’t.

  We’re separated when we arrive at the courthouse. I’m taken to a cell to wait for my time in front of the judge; Tse will be taking his place in the public gallery. I’m so glad he’s here. He’s reassured me, whatever happens, he’ll be with me. Close behind if I’m deported. I believe he will, even though I worry about all he’ll be leaving behind, and whether that would put too great a strain on our still embryonic relationship. But at least, to start with, I wouldn’t be alone. That takes some of the fear away.

  At last I’m called and go where indicated to the witness stand. There are two tables in front of me. From one, Carissa Beacham, my lawyer, gives me an encouraging smile. Sitting just behind her is a man I didn’t expect to see here, Jason Deville, or Devil as he’s better known. On the next table are stony faced men I don’t recognise, but know who they are immediately. They’re representatives from ICE. Their only desire is to see me, a statistic, not a person, sent back to the country where I was born.

  We stand, then sit, as the judge takes his seat. The name card in front of him shows he’s Judge Hawkins.

  Having settled himself, he looks down at the information in front of him, and his eyes widen. His face is stony as he looks toward the men from ICE. “This is the case I was supposed to hear some weeks back. When a deportation was pre-empted without my determination.”

  One of the men from ICE gets to his feet. “Your Honour, I apologise for that. I must also add that Mariana De Souza has re-entered the country illegally…”

  “Objection, Your Honour.” Carissa’s on her feet.

  “That’s fact,” the ICE man snarls.

  The judge raises an eyebrow and motions for Carissa to continue. “Mrs Williamson received a near fatal injury in Colombia. She was brought here for emergency treatment.”

  “She could have gone to a hospital in Colombia.”

  Carissa sends the government representative a scathing look. “Her life was in danger. Her safety couldn’t be guaranteed in that country.”

  The judge bangs the gavel. “I believe we are getting ahead of ourselves. Please, Ms Beacham, let us start in a more orderly fashion. Your witness, I believe.”

  Carissa stands and approaches me. “Mrs Williamson. Can you explain to the court how you originally came to be in the US?”

  “I was four years old,” I begin, my voice shaky. “My mother had been brutally attacked by my father. He’d hit me too and broken my arm.”

  “You remember that?” the man from ICE questions. “Or is that what you were told?”

  “I remember. You don’t forget things like that.” I rub my arm where it had been broken. “You’re right, I don’t remember much else. The panic of my mother though, that I do recall. The details of the journey, no.”

  “You arrived in Arizona?” Carissa takes over again, giving a look at the ICE man who I presume shouldn’t have interrupted.

  “I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened, I was only four after all. But my mother managed to feed me, and we soon ended up with a one-bedroom trailer.”

  “The trailer you’d been living in with your brother, Drew?”

  I nod, then confirm, “That’s right.”

  The ICE men confer with each other. “We’re not aware of a brother, Your Honour. May I ask, is he illegal too?”

  “My brother,” I answer, drawing my shoulders back, “is a US citizen. The night before we left, my father had raped my mother. She didn’t know she was pregnant until some time after we arrived. That,” I address myself to the judge, “I don’t remember. But that’s what I was told.”

  “Your mother told your father she was having another child?” Carissa prompts, already knowing the answer.

  “No.” I shudder. “We kept Drew’s, that’s my brother, existence quiet. My father is a dangerous man, and if he knew he had a son, he might have come after him.”

  “What’s the current status of your mother?”

  “My mother requested asylum, but it wasn’t granted. She was deported six years ago when I was fourteen. One day she was there, one day she wasn’t. Nobody came, so I looked after Drew. He was just nine at the time.”

  “Are you in contact with your mother? She’s in Colombia?”

  “She was killed almost immediately after she arrived. At the time, I believed it had been my father, but there was no evidence. However, when I met him, he admitted it himself.”

  “Objection, Your Honour. Hearsay at best.”

  Carissa smiles sweetly. “I have another witness to call in a minute, Your Honour. What he has to say will corroborate Mrs Williamson’s assumption.”

  She continues to question me. My DACA status comes out, the fake accident and the proof of my innocence. She makes the point I’m only in front of the court because of the greed of the man who crashed into me. The judge refers to the evidence that’s provided to support my case. She’s done her homework, she’s got reports from the community college about my diligence as a student, and how I’ll make a good nurse.

  The judge’s face gives no indication he’s been swayed by my testimo
ny. The men from ICE look bored as if they’ve seen and heard it all before. One keeps looking at his watch as though he wants to wrap this up.

  “Ms Beacham, I have a question, if I may?” The judge needn’t ask for permission, and Carissa doesn’t withhold it. “Mrs Williamson, your notes here refer to you in your maiden name. You married after you returned to the States?”

  “I did.” My eyes catch those of Tse, he’s smiling at me.

  I hear a murmur of derision from the ICE table. The judge ignores them. “This wedding was precipitous?”

  “Tse proposed to me before I was deported. My near death scared us both, made us realise life was too short for delays.”

  “Did you marry so he could sponsor you for a green card?”

  I shake my head, a smile for Tse on my face. “No, Your Honour. I married for love. I’ve already got a family member who could sponsor me, my brother Drew in another six years.”

  My smile disappears as the judge’s face looks like I haven’t convinced him. That’s all before I’m dismissed, and I go and sit down. Carissa calls up Devil, and he takes my place in the witness box.

  I watch with interest, not certain why he’s here.

  “Mr Deville, could you tell us a little about yourself?”

  “I’ll tell you what I can. Your Honour, I believe you have my credentials in front of you?” He waits for a signal from the judge, then continues. “I am a senior partner of an international security company with its headquarters in the UK. Most of my work is on a consultancy basis. I’ve worked in many countries, and for a number of years, have worked with the FBI and the CIA.”

  “Yes, I can see that. And at the highest levels. I understand some details are not appropriate for a public court?”

  “Thank you, Your Honour, and yes, though I am a little freer than I used to be. I’m unable to go undercover nowadays.” He doesn’t need to draw attention to his scar, we can all see it.

  “How did you get involved in this case, Mr Deville?”