by Brook Wilder
“Show him,” Diego whispered. “Show him the paper.”
Tapping down my temper, I waited quietly as Momma walked reluctantly to the kitchen counter and picked up the Sunday newspaper. Not upsetting her was the most important thing I could do right now, or Momma would never share with me again. She unfolded the paper and placed it down on the table in front of me.
Momma’s voice was unusually small as she spoke. “See these men?”
The color photo on the front page showed a jubilant Mayor Pryor on his election night. A younger man next to him lifted Mayor Pryor’s left arm in the air while another man behind him clapped. The men looked like ordinary politicians, and I didn’t understand the point. But appearances can be deceiving, as I would know; though I wore a patch declaring ‘I’m the devil,’ sometimes the devil ran around in a suit.
I knew in my gut this was going to be bad.
Momma continued, “These two men came to the house.” She pointed to the men on the left of the mayor.
“This house?” Grabbing the paper, I stared at the photo. “When?”
“The morning of the shooting,” she answered leaning closer. “They flashed badges. They told me they knew my son was getting out of prison, and he’d better watch his back, or they’d send him back. Or put him in the ground. That’s why I begged Oscar to run.”
“I thought he left because of Emilio,” I said.
Momma did her best not to cry. She never wanted to upset her children, including the one she had taken in. I reached for her hand and held it, stroking the delicate skin until she could find her voice again.
“If Emilio had won, he’d have pinned many crimes on Oscar to prove he was tough on crime. I heard him talk while I was in the coma. Emilio mistakenly believed Oscar wouldn’t mind another prison sentence. But I minded. I didn’t raise my boy to go to jail.”
She sobbed, and Diego patted her shoulders with genuine concern. I read the photo caption, but it only identified the two men as ‘supporters.’ Not a problem, I’d take the paper with me to the clubhouse. I needed to talk to Hector.
Jane walked into the kitchen and straight into a scene of confusion. The stains were gone from her clothes, but our times together were always overshadowed with violence. Momma sobbed in her hands, and Jane ran to her side. She looked at me for an explanation and then her gaze landed on the paper and she frowned.
“Yikes, that pinhead and his father again.”
Momma stopped crying, Diego stopped patting, and I stared at Jane. She looked even more startled by our reactions than when she walked into the room ending our private discussion.
“You know these men?” I asked.
“Not all of them,” she replied, “but the one holding the Mayor’s hand is his son.”
“I bet you anything,” Diego said, “that the other one is the john who Oscar went to jail for beating.”
“But these men aren't Disciples. Are they?” I asked.
It wasn’t really a question. It was a plea that our troubles wouldn't get any worse. I looked mournfully at the photo of the suits celebrating their easy victory. Emilio was right. Townhall was just another clubhouse. The Disciples were the largest MC in the area and proud of their Christian White heritage. Their sole purpose was to make America into a White supremacist nation. They would get rid of any person who didn’t fit in or agree with their ethnic, religious, or sexual principles.
I tried to stand again, and a searing pain burned in my thigh, but I stood.
“I need this.” I held up the paper before crushing it in my hands.
I’d had a hunch, but hadn’t listened to my instincts. And it pissed me off.
We knew the Nation wasn’t involved in the drive-by. But we'd been too quick to blame The Disciples as the sole assailants when little things didn’t add up. Sure, they had always hated us, but now they were coming into our neighborhoods and hunting us down. It wasn’t random acts of violence. What was motivating these men to attack?
“Luis, your leg,” cried Jane.
“It will heal,” I answered. “I’ve got to go.”
Chapter Eleven
JANE
Before I could put on my shoes, Luis was out the door and going where to, I don’t know. By the time I caught up to him, he stood on the curb yelling into his phone. He was dressed in his soiled clothes from the night before. His jeans had been patched up from the inside, but his heavy black jacket was stained. He kicked the pavement with the toe of his heavy steel-toe boot and told the person on the other end of the call to meet him at the corner store.
I hovered by Luis’s side and waited for him to get off the phone. The scowl on his ordinarily kind face made my heart jolt. His brow wrinkled and his eyebrows pinched together. The hard expression in his eyes showed how deep his rage could go.
Luis had never looked at me like that before. He’d only looked at me with desire. And I hadn’t thought I could be wrong.
“Luis, you can’t go anywhere on your leg,” I demanded.
He winced in pain before he answered, “I have something important to do. Go back to the house with Momma.”
“You can’t ride with that leg,” I pleaded. “You can barely walk on it.” I took hold of his arm. “Come back inside with me.”
“No,” Luis shouted.
I jumped back when he yanked his arm out of my grip. Vivid memories of my ex-husband flew into my mind, and I froze in panic. I’d thought Luis was different. Had I made the same mistake twice?
He sensed my anxiety. My apprehension quieted his anger, and Luis looked at the ground in shame.
My ex had also apologized out of shame. At first.
“I’m sorry, Jane,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But I have to find my brother. He may be in danger. You need to stay here with Momma. You can’t tag along.”
“Tag along?” I placed my hands on my hips, finding my backbone. “I’m not tagging along for fun. I’m trying to keep you from busting your stitches in a fight, or worse.”
His handsome face twisted as he considered my words.
He couldn’t comprehend the real reason for my concern because I hadn’t told him yet. I hadn’t even told him I was pregnant or that he was the father of my unborn baby who was safe and sound in my belly. I was determined to keep Luis safe and sound, too.
But I hadn’t meant to show my fear, and I choked back a sob. Damn hormones were making me emotional.
“Jane.” He leaned in close toward me and brushed his fingertips along my cheek. His touch was soft, as if he were afraid he’d bruise me. “I’ll be back. I’ll come back. We don’t need to be apart so long this time. I’ll come back after I find him, and we’ll spend more time together.”
The charmer winked at me, and I wanted to slap him. Now was not the time to tell Luis I was pregnant, but it was obvious he just didn’t understand what was really happening. Typical male ego had reared its two heads – one above and one below. I wasn’t looking to hook up. I wanted to protect Luis so maybe our unborn child might have a father. Or at least, meet him someday.
He started to walk away, his leg stiff, but he moved quickly as he crossed the sidewalk toward a tall chain-link fence. The metal fence enclosed the backyard of the corner store. The storefront faced Garland Avenue, which ran parallel to Mission, but the backyard was on Mission Avenue. The back door of the store was open, and Luis yelled something in Spanish to the middle-aged man who sat in the doorway.
The man ran to the fence, speaking quickly in Spanish. The heavy-set man, dressed in a bulky denim jacket, waved his arms and gestured toward the store. Luis looked up at the high fence as if he planned to jump over it. My chest clenched at the thought of what he’d do to his stitches if he did something so reckless. Before I could say anything to prevent him, he jumped onto the fence and gripped it. I watched him move with a hidden power as his tight, muscular body lifted up and over the top in a graceful arch. I had underestimated him.
Luis landed hard on his good le
g and stumbled slightly, but he showed no pain.
I may have been short at 5’ 2,” but there was no tree or fence I couldn’t climb. I grabbed hold of that chain-link and scrambled up before Luis could enter the building without me. He and the other man turned and looked at me in wonder as I jumped down into the yard. Their eyes were wide, and Luis’s mouth hung open. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to yell at me or laugh. Finally, his brown eyes softened from their hard, troubled glare. He grinned, though there was something wistful about his expression as he reached to take my hand in his.
“What are you doing?” Luis whispered, turning his back on the man. His patient expression clouded over, but he still held my hand and didn’t raise his voice.
“I’m coming with you.” My voice was tough as my stomach did a flip.
I knew my comfort zone was miles and miles away from big city living. Mesa wasn’t the blue mountains of my home state where the worst predator I’d ever seen was a black bear taller than me. The people here were a threat, as if it were a common sport to hunt another human being down.
Luis seemed more frustrated than angry when he spoke. “I have to look for my brother,” he said quietly. “The deputies are out front. I don’t want you involved.”
“I’m already involved. The minute I patched your leg, I was involved.” My voice sounded like a screeching squirrel, and it wasn’t attractive, but I was upset and barreling toward pissed off.
Yet stitching him up last night wasn’t the moment I became involved. The two lines on the pregnancy test made his business my business even if he didn’t know it yet.
Luis turned and looked at the other man waiting in the doorway. He was aware the man had taken an interest in our personal conversation and found it amusing. Luis pulled me a short distance away and placed his hands on my shoulders. He bent down and looked into my eyes as if he were about to scold a willful child. It was ironic to see Luis look so paternal, and I blinked back my tears of frustration.
“Jane,” he said, “This is MC business. Do you understand? How I feel right now has nothing to do with you. I want you to stay out of this before you get hurt. Now, go back to your apartment and wait.”
This was stupid. I was being banished to my apartment. I wasn’t going to be treated like a child by the man who’d knocked me up. I shoved his hands off my shoulders.
“I’m going with you.” And like a spoiled child demanding a treat, I stamped my foot.
Luis looked back at the other man who now openly chuckled at our power struggle. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of panic on Luis’s face as he stared past the man into the store. His brow furrowed and his eyes turned sharp.
It was as if he’d finally remembered why he was really there and what he needed to do. His energy toward me took a noticeable shift.
I was in the way.
It wasn’t fair. Luis believed I was keeping him away from his family, but he didn’t realize I was his family now, too.
The words he spoke next were hurtful, but I understood where they had come from.
“You don’t belong here, chica. You didn’t want to be a couple. You have no right to act like my woman now.”
If I hadn’t been staring into his deep brown eyes, I’d have missed the flash of pain in them.
But I had to stand my ground because our lives had changed. I wouldn’t be at ease, not knowing Luis's fate, but I was complicating the matter at hand. Luis had to find his brother, and I had to be a help, not a hindrance. I shrugged him off and hurried toward the open door.
“You’re right, Luis,” I said. “We’re not a couple. So, you have no right to tell me where I can and can't go.”
The man laughed as I entered the store, and Luis reluctantly followed.
Chapter Twelve
LUIS
Jane was determined to drive me loco. It wasn’t going to be easy keeping her out of trouble and I couldn’t scare her away with my tough talk. She knew my bullshit as if I had handed her a manual on how to read me. I had tried to be stern like Momma would’ve been, but Jane’s bright blue eyes shined as if one more harsh word would make her tears fall. Physically, I could have dragged her away, but I wouldn’t do that to a woman. Besides, the little firecracker had saved my life last night.
I watched her cute bottom shake in her tight jeans as she marched into the store. In her nylon blue jacket with the furry collar, no one would have mistaken her for a club girl.
The corner store was like any other bodega. Narrow aisles stacked with tightly packed, brightly colored, cheap merchandise. No-name brands even a dollar store wouldn’t sell. Armando stood guard by the register. The Navarros owned the store, and Armando, their son and our prospect, worked behind the counter when he wasn’t helping at the soup kitchen. He did business at both places, collecting secrets at the soup kitchen and trading them at the store. Cheap produce and sugary drinks didn’t keep the business running; illegal gambling, changing money, and selling information kept the tiny store hustling day and night.
But the counter was empty of its usual customers waiting in long lines to purchase lottery tickets. There were no customers at all today. The front of the store was taped off in yellow and black striped plastic. The broken glass from the large windows lay on the ground, and the front door was off its hinges. A patrol car parked outside with lights flashing cast a pattern onto the crime scene inside. Though she had boldly entered the store, Jane stopped as she gazed at the destruction. She was too shocked to do more than nod at Armando. I stepped around her and approached him.
“¿Qué pasó?” I switched to English for Jane. “What happened last night?”
Armando ran his hand through his hair as he looked outside at the patrol car. “A truck rammed the storefront. There was no money in the register. You know, no big cash because I'd been at the church all evening and not collecting. But they weren’t here to steal. They shot up the store, but we were on the ground to avoid the crash. No one inside was badly hurt, but they ran a man down on the sidewalk.”
I nodded, but this was not what I wanted to know. “¿Mi hermano?” I asked. “Where’s my brother?”
Armando looked down at his hands, and I waited for bad news. “Carlos was here before the shooting but left for the playground. Hector’s on his way here now. He knows who was shot.”
Our conversation ended as Deputy Maria Lopez stepped through the broken door and walked across the pieces of glass in her hard boots. I looked down at Jane’s feet. She wore those flimsy sneakers in flower colors that the girls liked to wear. I frowned and told Armando in Spanish to find her something for her feet. He reached under the counter and pulled out some heavy work boots. They were too big, but it would do while she was in here. Everything was sold from behind the counter in this little store.
“Deputy. I see the best are on the case,” I said. “Did you find the bad people yet?”
Deputy Lopez frowned at my biting sarcasm. Maria and I had known each other since we were kids. I’d never touched her because my brother Carlos loved her until she smashed his heart. The neighborhood wasn’t good enough for her, and to prove it, Maria lost her accent and joined the sheriff’s department. She had just enough good looks and smarts to look down on us, but Carlos deserved better from the heartless bitch.
“Not yet, sir,” Maria replied barely looking my way. “Maybe you’ll be my first arrest. Are you out breaking the law, or breaking hearts?”
Her eyes went to Jane, and I shifted my stance to keep them apart. “Speaking of breaking hearts, have you seen my brother? You remember Carlos, the man who's not good enough?”
“There’s no reason to talk like that, Mr. Morillo. That’s in the past, and not your business. Today, I’m here on police business.”
“I just want to find my brother.” I held up my hands and shrugged. If Maria had news of Carlos, I wanted to know so we could go back to ignoring each other’s presence.
“Your brother is in jail. I arrested him last night for loitering.”
“You are a heartless...” My words switched from English to Spanish as I told Maria what a bitch she was. I didn’t care if she had a gun, and her badge was a joke to me. She was no better than me or my brother, no matter what Maria thought of herself.
“Mr. Morillo, I’m asking you to leave the premises. This is a crime scene, and you shouldn’t be in here.” She glanced at Jane. “Please purchase your condoms and leave.”
Jane’s hand gripped my arm as Armando started to shout for the man at the back door. Hector appeared out of nowhere, and all three hauled me out the back. It would’ve been stupid and deadly for me to punch a cop, and I don’t strike women, even vindictive ones. But best to avoid temptation.
