39
Carma
Carma
There were no words to describe the pain I felt. After all that I’d been through in my life, I’d never experienced heartache as pronounced as I was feeling. Coupled with the fear of our imminent return to Mexico, the totality of what loomed over my family was crippling.
“I’m staying,” Sam said. “I’m not going back there.”
“Samuel!” my mother snapped, “We’re a family. We will remain together as a family.”
“I’m not doing it.” He stood from his seat at the table. “No way.”
“Sooner or later, they’ll capture you,” my mother insisted. “They’re on the warpath. It’s not the way it used to be.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I pushed myself away from the table and stood. “Sam. This isn’t easy for any of us. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we can’t let this pull us apart. We need to stick—”
“I’m not going back, Carma.” He shook his head. “I’m just not.”
Personally, I feared leaving our home. Each step I took was so tense with anticipation of being captured that my body ached. Every car that drove past caused me to cower. Every passing police cruiser brought with it a panic attack.
I wanted nothing but to be free. Free to go where I wished, live as I’d always dreamed, and remain united with my family and the man that I loved. Instead, I was being forced to return to a place where my life would be in constant danger.
Angel’s absence didn’t make Mexico a better country. The violence would remain. In fact, his absence may have made the drug-related violence worse. The cartel would still be in place. A new leader would undoubtedly emerge, and he very well may be worse than Angel.
I feared there were members of the cartel who would recognize me. Returning to the country immediately following Angel’s death would raise a red flag regarding my involvement in the matter, that much I was sure of.
There was a knock at the door.
Startled and scared, I screamed.
My mother inched her way to the door and peered through the peephole. She glanced over her shoulder and reached for the handle. “It’s Okay. It’s Reno.”
“I’m sorry. I called and called.” He hugged my mother. “No one answered.”
“I don’t know where my phone is,” I said. “And, I took the battery out. I was afraid someone might try to trace it.”
“Hate to sound paranoid,” he said. “But that’s probably a good idea. For all of you. Just in case.”
He kissed me and gave me a hug. Paralyzed from experiencing any emotion short of anxiety, I felt distant when his arms were around me. When our lips touched, it felt dull.
Muffled.
I wanted everything to return to the way it was. It wouldn’t. It couldn’t. For my remaining days on earth, life would resemble what I was experiencing. My emotions may one day return, but things would never be the same.
Not in Mexico.
I wondered what Reno would do. How long he would last as a lover who was forced to cross the border to see me. How long it would be until his friends, brothers, and family won the tug-of-war with his life.
The thought of losing him was crippling.
In his arms, but numb to his touch, I began to cry. “This…hurts so…much.”
He pulled me closer and held me tight. “I talked to a detective,” he said. “They won’t deport him without calling me first. He said he’s going to wait as long as he can before doing anything.”
“Thank you,” my mother said.
“I tried to get him out of there,” Reno said. “But there was nothing he could do.”
My mother glanced into the living room. “I hate to think about it, but we need to start thinking of what we’re going to do about leaving. What we’re going to take with us, and what we’re going to leave.”
We’d been forced from our home on the beach. Now, we were being forced from a run-down rental. The next home, I was sure, would be nothing short of squalor.
The men and women of the United States were free to go where they wished. To travel to any country they pleased. Despite where their travels took them, they could always return to a country that gave them the freedom to choose.
Yet.
Many of them complained of what they didn’t have.
I rested my head against Reno’s shoulder and wept quietly as he and my mother talked about moving, my father’s conditions in jail, and my brother’s rebellious attitude.
Amidst the dull resonance of their voices, I closed my eyes and prayed.
40
Reno
My eyes shot open. I sat up in bed and glanced around the darkened room. After a few confusing seconds, I realized I’d had a nightmare. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the other side of the bed.
Empty.
Afraid to leave her mother’s home, Carma was no longer sleeping with me. Frustrated at my newfound state of being, I rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom.
In my dream, Alacrán was alive. He’d captured all the members of Devil’s Disciples and the majority of the Filthy Fuckers. One by one, he demanded that each person tell him my whereabouts. When they wouldn’t comply, he shot them in the temple.
I took off my sweat-soaked tee shirt and washed my face. In gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I realized there was nothing I could do to fix the mess that surrounded me. I would be forced to live with the outcome, whatever it may be.
In Carma’s presence, I needed nothing more.
In her absence, however, I was a wreck. Lost and feeling incomplete, all I could think about was her, and how much I needed her by my side. In the past, recognizing that reliance would have caused me to run the other direction.
All that came to mind now was to embrace it.
Unwilling to go back to sleep, I checked my watch.
9:18
Depressed, exhausted, and saddened by a situation I couldn’t change, I’d gone to bed just after 8:00. Now feeling rested, I went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Cup in hand, I sat down at the kitchen table and shook my head at the vivid nature of my dream.
Fearing that my dream may one day become reality, I searched my mind for loose ends with the cartel. The only people I’d exposed myself to that weren’t dead were Primo and the men Alacrán brought with him on the day of the cocaine buy.
When I’d asked him about Primo he said heir names.
He took Alfredo and Manuel to meet Luiz. They’re picking up something that’s rightfully mine.
Primo, Alfredo, Manuel, and Luiz. Three of those men had been captured and were in jail. The fourth was my loose end.
I got my phone and searched for Peyton’s newspaper article. After finding it, I thumbed through it, reading sentence after sentence and paragraph after paragraph, trying to find the names of the men who had been caught. Then, I saw their names.
Three other men, Manuel Sanchez, Miguel Manos, and Alfredo Bartelón-Oscura were apprehended and subsequently arrested when they were…
Someone named Luiz was the only loose end. He was the man the other three men were going to meet.
I sipped my coffee.
Then, it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I’d always wondered who the person might be that leaked the information to the cartel about Carma working at the diner.
I was now certain I had the answer.
* * *
It was a few minutes after ten o’clock. We’d parked our motorcycles at an automotive repair shop up the street and walked to La Cocina. Hiding in a drainage ditch behind the restaurant, we watched the rear door, hoping the man we were waiting for was about to get off work.
A lone security lamp at the corner of the building provided a halo of light just above the door. Other than that, the area was pitch black.
Crip raised his head and peered toward the door. “How in the fuck did you put this together? Jesus. Talk about a long shot.”
�
�I was in here the other day,” I whispered. “The owner was yelling at someone in the kitchen. His name was Luiz. The other night, Alacrán said Primo and the other two shit hats were going to see some guy named Luiz to get what was rightfully his. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” he replied.
The door opened. A slight Hispanic male sauntered toward a bicycle.
I leaped from the ditch, ran in his direction, and tackled him just as he was reaching for it. With him in a choke hold, I dragged him toward the ditch.
“Grab the bicycle,” I said.
Crip rushed to the bicycle and carried it into the darkness.
In a matter of seconds, a car’s headlights illuminated the street in front of the restaurant. As its taillights disappeared toward the highway, I relaxed my grip on who I hoped was Luiz.
There were many ways I could have attempted to find out what it was I wanted to know. Most methods would be met with answers I didn’t want, followed by a period of arguing. Eventually, using torture as my only tool, I would extract the information I wanted, all the while wondering how accurate the given responses were. Under duress, men often admit to things that aren’t necessarily true.
I chose what I believed was a better option. “Tu nombre es Luiz. No?”
Your name is Luis? Right?
He rubbed his neck and nodded. “Sí.”
Yes.
“Lo siento,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “El Primo nos envió. Estamos aquí para matar a Carma, por venganza. Puedes ayudarnos?”
I’m sorry. Primo sent us. We’re here to kill Carma, for revenge. Can you help us?
He nodded. “Sí.”
Yes.
I wanted someone to be responsible for what I was feeling. For taking my joy, love, and elation and replacing it with sadness and anxious tension. To pay for the inconvenience I was going to suffer from being forced to move to Mexico.
To pay for what Carma and her family were going through. Their loss, their pain, and the solemn mood that hung in the air in a home that was once filled with family’s dinnertime laughter.
Luiz was the last piece of the puzzle. Although he wasn’t directly responsible for the capture of Carma’s father, he was all I had.
I pulled the silenced pistol from the waist of my pants. While he nodded eagerly in confirmation of his ability to help us kill Carma, I pointed it at the side of his head and pulled the trigger.
The pfft sound from the weapon’s silencer was followed by a dull thud from him falling onto the concrete embankment of the ditch.
I wanted his death to bring relief. To allow me to feel whole again.
To give me strength.
Yet. As he lay dead at my feet, all I felt was empty.
41
Carma
We’d packed our necessities into boxes, labeling each one with a list of the contents. In looking around the living room, I couldn’t deny that change was coming. That realization, however, did nothing to prepare me for what was ahead.
“I don’t like it that we just have to wait,” I said. “That we don’t know if it’s going to be a week, a day, or a month. I wish we could talk to him.”
“If we go to see him, we’ll be arrested,” my mother replied. “That’s not an option, Carma.”
“I know, but I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either.”
Reno carried a box to the corner of the room and stacked it on top of the pile. “I wonder if that cop can get word to him. Maybe if there’s something you want to say, I can get a note to him or something.”
It had been a week since my father’s arrest. It was, without a doubt, the longest week of my life. “That might be nice,” I said. “He’d like to know what our plans are.”
“He knows what our plans are,” my mother said. “We’re a family.”
I gestured toward Samuel’s room with my eyes. “Except for him.”
My mother gave me a look. “Carmelita! We are a family. That includes your brother.”
Sam had made it clear that he wasn’t going back to Mexico. My mother argued with him at first. She had since given up.
“Obviously not,” I responded.
“Let me talk to him,” Reno said. “When he realizes I’m going, it might make a difference.”
“He’s stubborn,” my mother said. “Like his father.”
Reno secured the top of my box with a few straps of packing tape and carried it to the growing stack. When he turned around, my mother stood and stretched her arms.
“I hear something,” she said.
I jumped up. “Like what?”
She grinned. “One of Reno’s friends.”
“You’ve got the ears of an elephant,” I said.
She raised her brows. “And the eyes of an owl.”
Eventually, the sound of a distant motorcycle could be heard. It seemed my mother had the ability to hear things long before the rest of us. I’d always told myself it was protective nature that allowed her to have such hypersensitive hearing.
Reno stood, pulled the drapes to the side, and peered through the crack. “I’ll be darned.”
“What?” I asked.
“Just a few of the fellas,” he responded.
“Your phone’s still on the kitchen counter,” I said. “I’m sure they tried to call. Who is it?”
“Tito, Cash, and it looks like Bama.”
The sound grew louder until the hair on my neck stood on end. I wonder if a day would come when motorcycles no longer had that effect on me. I hoped not.
Reno opened the door before they knocked. “What’s going on, fellas?”
“Someone’s not answering his phone,” I heard Cash say. “The midget needs to talk to you.”
“Out here,” Tito said. “Away from everyone, if you don’t mind.”
Reno glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going to step outside.”
I wondered what the secret was, but smiled nonetheless. “Okay.”
“You’re going out, I’m coming in,” Bama said, nudging Reno out of the way. He hugged me and then looked at my mother. “Good morning, Miss Gina.”
“Good morning, Bama,” my mother replied. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
He removed his sunglasses and fitted them onto the top of his head. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a dandy, for sure.”
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fresh bread?” she asked. “Baked it this morning.”
“Still have that butter you made?”
She grinned and waved toward the kitchen. “I never go without it.”
Instead of going to the kitchen, Bama crossed the living room and gave her a quick hug. Together, they walked into the kitchen. Of the seven days that my father had been in jail, Bama had stopped by each of them.
As had Crip, Peyton, Pee Bee, Tegan, Cash, Kimberly, Goose, and Ally. Baker stopped by a few times, too, but as far as I could remember, Tito hadn’t.
While my mother and Bama got coffee, I peered out the window, wondering what the men were talking about.
I tried to read their lips, but it seemed that Reno said he was celibate and that he hated sports. It seemed Tito hated sports, too and he’d been the recent victim of a looter.
Reno seemed elated with the looter news. He gave Tito a huge hug and a pat on the back.
When he came back inside, he kissed me deeply. It was awfully nice, but it didn’t do for me what his kisses normally did.
I yearned for the day that the emotions returned in full force. The day that I could once again be swept off my feet each time our lips met. When his simple touch could cause me to go weak-kneed, and when I could fall asleep in his arms at night.
I glanced at the mound of boxes.
It would come soon enough, I decided.
Reno stepped into the kitchen.
“Tito done with ya?” Bama asked.
“Yep.”
Bama sla
pped him on the back. “He’s a good kid, huh?”
“His heart’s in the right place, that’s for sure,” Reno said.
Bama poked the remainder of his bread in his mouth, swallowed it, and gulped down his coffee.
“Hate to eat and run Miss Gina.” He gave her a hug. “But I’m going to eat and run.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Barring any catastrophes,” he said with a smile.
He hugged me on the way out, joined his friends, and they rode away.
Although I tried to pry the information from Reno, he refused to tell me why the men stopped by. He did, however, share with me that it had nothing to do with a looter, and that he wasn’t complaining of being celibate.
I hoped, at least, that the second claim was true.
Because we couldn’t have sex in my mother’s home, and I was too scared to leave.
42
Reno
We sat around the table, eating pork tamales smothered with red sauce. When I was stuffed, I pushed myself away from the table.
“I can’t take another bite.”
“Have one more,” Carma’s mother said. “They’ll go to waste.”
“They won’t go to waste,” I insisted. “You’ve got a refrigerator.”
With her face wearing a playful scowl, she pushed the dish toward me. “They don’t keep.”
“They sure do.”
She smiled. “The refrigerator’s full. There are two left. Eat them. Show me you love me.”
I rolled my eyes. Arguing with her was impossible. Reluctantly, I placed the remaining food on my plate.
She smiled. “Your appetite makes me happy.”
“Your cooking makes me happy,” I replied.
She picked up the dish. “Thank you.”
While I stuffed my face, Gina washed the dishes. Carma sipped her coffee and gazed into the living room. Sam, as always, sat in his room and sulked.
It had been ten days since her father’s arrest. Each one brought with it a different level of tension—concern that today might be the day that the family was forced to move from the place they called home.
Reno: Devil’s Disciples Book 5 Page 20
