by Brook Wilder
“No, I have to go,” I protested as I circled the kitchen. “I can help. I’m a damn good shot. Luis needs me. He wouldn’t want me to help, but he needs me. Maybe, Armando has a gun? I can buy one. Do you know where I can find him?”
Momma placed her hands on her hips and froze me in place with a leveling scowl. “Jane, I know you’re excited, but please, take a deep breath. We’ll figure out something.”
I sat down again, and a Momma eyed me as I took several deep breaths.
“I don’t want you going,” she said. “But you’re probably right if you can shoot a gun like you throw a knife.” She stood and pointed her finger an inch from my face. “You’re not to mention anything you see here.”
I had no idea what was about to happen. Momma led the way upstairs. Framed photos of a younger Momma, Oscar, and her deceased husband decorated the walls of her frilly bedroom. On her bedside table stood a photo of Luis and another man. I picked it up. Luis was smiling his handsome half-smile, half-grin, but the other man in the photo was pensive. He was darker than Luis, not solely in appearance but in his spirit. He looked dangerous and not a man I would have ever accepted a ride from.
“That’s Luis,” Momma explained, “and his brother, Carlos.”
“They don’t look anything alike,” I replied absentmindedly.
“Because they are nothing alike.”
A floral comforter and cream-colored pillows covered her fluffy queen bed that rested on a wrought iron frame. I hadn’t seen a wrought iron bed any place but in my grandmother’s house. The whole room was exceedingly feminine with its cabbage roses, pink hues, and lace covering every available space. Momma smirked at the look of surprise I gave her when she hauled a gun case out from underneath her girly bed.
“You don’t think I’d live in this neighbor without a firearm, do you?" she explained. "Not after those SOBs shot up my house.”
I laughed until I saw the high-powered rifle and scope inside the case.
“I bought it at the corner store,” she winked. “Do you know how to shoot this?”
“I sure do,” I said, lifting it carefully out of the case.
Momma looked pensive as she brushed the hair off my cheek. “Jane, I don’t think you should go. I think you should stay here with me. And we’ll wait together for the men.”
“I can’t,” I said replacing the rifle and snapping the case closed. “You know how I am. I’ll go nuts wondering if Luis is dead or alive. But I promise I’ll stay hidden. I won’t go running into the fray. I’ll just lurk in the shadows and make sure he’s all right.”
Chapter Seventeen
LUIS
The compound itself was off the main highway about three miles in from the road. It wouldn’t have been hard to get past the gate. The Disciples would never expect anyone to be so foolish to walk into their gated and armed headquarters. But here we were. We’d met the Nation earlier outside of town near a closed industrial park. Jamal Miller, the Nation’s president, was livid over the loss of six men in the recent attacks. His chop shop had cops poking all over it asking questions about the stolen goods found concealed in the building.
“Not only did they take out my men,” Jamal had shouted. “Those bitches messed with my livelihood. I can’t put up with this shit no more.”
Emilio listened in silence. He sat astride his massive vintage Harley roadster and eyed our lifelong foe as he talked more shit. We had thirty-eight members present while the Nation has twenty-six. Last count, the Disciples had almost 100 men.
Not all the members of the Nation rode bikes. I wasn’t even sure why they were called themselves an MC; they rode up in cars. Eventually, it had been decided that we would enter the compound on foot from the forest. Stupidly, none of us knew the layout of the compound, or if they patrolled the perimeter. The unstable plan looked bleak as Emilio and Jamal shouted back and forth over who’d give the orders. In the end, Jamal told Emilio to ‘fuck off’ and the Nation left us on our own to fight the Disciples.
Emilio divided us up into four groups and explained we’d ambush the compound at each cardinal point. I’d take a group of ten men along the north side of the compound and enter from the woods. We’d strike at midnight, then get out fast.
“No heroics,” Emilio had ordered. “Just hit and go.” Hopefully, it would be a surprise, and we would get out alive. No bravery. No recklessness. Just let the Disciples know they could be struck also.
It was dark and cold when we crawled through a forested area toward the main building. A group of about forty men sat around a campfire. Standing and pacing, Jacob Emmett Scott lectured the small gathering. Three large guards in flannel shirts protected him; each man held an automatic weapon. Scott had been a local preacher turned gang leader after the press revealed his shady criminal past. With fiery red hair, the man was dressed in black and strut around the circle like a roster. His hair moved in time as if to punctuate his hateful remarks. The crazed look in his eyes accented his message of hatred to the gullible men who nodded their heads in unison.
If I could only get him first, maybe his death would end the hatred. I aimed my gun at his head.
Four loud cracks erupted in the night air before I could pull the trigger. A guard jerked four times before he fell to the ground. Another shot rang out as men ran from the intense light of the fire and into the darkness of the surrounding woods. The Disciples were heading right into our west side ambush. Maybe this risky and dangerous plan would work after all, but my optimism was short lived when one of our new recruits ran out of his hiding spot firing.
They shot him dead. His body jerked and twitched as multiple rounds tore him apart until he lay still on the ground. Our positions revealed, I swore, then ordered Hector to lead the way out. He had orders to hit the road with whoever made it and not to wait for the rest.
The Disciples not only had more manpower, but they were better prepared to fight in the woods. They had trained here and knew every rock and twig we couldn’t see in the pitch darkness. They fired flares in the sky, illuminating our positions, and each time, another Cazador went down.
We hunkered down, trying to figure out how to get to safety. I hoped I could stay hidden and wait it out, but I knew they’d search for us. We had delivered ourselves right into their bloody grip and they were going to end us. It would be impossible to make it through the woods without cover. Two of my men were dead on the ground and any time we made a move, a Disciple shot toward the rustling leaves under our feet.
If we had lured them closer, we might have had a chance at surprise, but they were always one step ahead. They had shone the headlights from their vehicles into the woods and gunshots sprayed the trees.
Armando sat next to me, hit but alive. He couldn’t make it up the hill without my help. Another flare went up and lit the sky. I lay over Armando while bullets sailed over our heads, and we heard sharp screams of dying around us.
Draped over my shoulder, Armando struggled up the incline with me. If another flare went off, they’d see us. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. We were dead men, but I wouldn’t stop.
I had to get back to Jane and tell her I hadn’t meant the things I’d said.
Time went by as we made our agonizing trek up the hill, and I noticed the quiet sounds of the forest were interrupted only by sporadic shouts of violence below. It didn’t make sense; they’d seemed to have us surrounded, but I wasn’t going to question it. I just kept it moving us forward.
An owl called and I marveled how close it sounded to the sounds Jane had made. The thought made me long to get back to her, pushing me to move faster. But then the owl noises happened again, louder.
I froze.
My ears strained as I pulled Armando flat against the ground. We lay prone, and I put my fingers to my mouth and blew. My attempt sounded like an owl, or maybe some other animal, dying a tortured death, but it was enough. Off in the distance, I heard the familiar call again. It had to be Jane.
I tapped Arman
do on the arm, and we started to move up the incline toward the sound.
Shots rang out above our heads, but they zipped toward the compound, not us. The bright bursts of gunfire above us was a welcomed sign now as we stayed low.
The men at the compound ran for cover shouting, giving us a chance to scramble deeper into woods. Another round fired above us much closer than the last. Gunfire returned from the compound, but it was too far to reach us in the dark. We moved again, little by little, until we were in a clearing.
Jane and Hector were perched in a tree stand with rifles. They’d helped the six remaining men in my group reach safety. I thanked whatever angel had sent me Jane.
We covered her and Hector as they climbed down. The sound of barking dogs approaching sent us all dashing to our vehicles. The remaining men rode out with Hector as Jane and I helped Armando into her car. As fast as Jane could drive, she was back on the highway headed to Mesa.
Chapter Eighteen
JANE
The plan was to lay low, but we had to make it back to Mesa first. Leaving the headlights off until my car was out of the woods, I drove us slowly onto the main road. Once on the highway, the car shook and whined as it sped toward the city. Armando lay across the back seat hugging his injured side. A bullet had grazed him, and his wounds were a critical concern. The amount of blood flowing from them meant there could be internal injuries. He needed medical attention fast and not a patch job using Momma’s sewing box.
In panting gasps, Armando gave us the news. The Disciples had lost men but not as many as the Cazadores. He’d been on the east side but ran north toward Luis’s position when the prospects started shooting. He wasn’t sure how many others had gotten away.
“It wasn’t worth it,” he swore.
Luis cursed and held his forehead. “I should have insisted that we not go. We never had the manpower for this, even before the Nation backed out.”
“And wait to be shot on the streets?” asked Armando.
“No,” Luis replied, “but we should have had a better plan.”
There was only one road back to the city, and if the Disciples left their compound, they would spot us. My hands were shaking as I clutched the sweaty wheel. I didn’t dare look anywhere on the road but straight ahead. We’d almost made it, but we weren’t home yet. And deep down, I had a sinking feeling we wouldn’t make it without another ambush. The woods were deep, and it seemed likely the Disciples had more tricks up their sleeves.
At least we were the only vehicle on the road. I pushed my car to go faster as Armando writhed in pain across the back seat. His bleeding had slowed, and I hoped it was a good sign. I prayed he’d make it. He closed his eyes, but Luis checked to make sure he was only resting.
I pushed the accelerator and the whining sound of the engine filled the car.
“Jane, you can slow down?” shouted Luis above the old motor. “I need to talk to you.”
I slowed, but spoke before he could say anything. “Luis, I saw Andrew at the compound.” My voice was hoarse as the words rushed out of my mouth. “I need to get out of here. It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. I’m going to move back east to my dad’s. I’ll have the baby there.”
“No, Jane, I don’t want you to leave. I was foolish in many ways. But...”
Headlights beamed brightly in the rearview mirror, growing larger at an alarming rate. When the second car emerged from behind the first, matching its speed, I screamed and floored it. Luis went silent and turned around to look out the back window.
I knew what was going to happen even before it did. The first car flew up alongside us and blasted its horn, while the other car careened toward us, its headlights almost blinding me in the rearview mirror. I yelped, thinking it was going to ram us, but at the last second, they slowed just enough to give our bumper a tap.
It was a warning. The Disciples had found us, but for some reason they weren’t running us off the road… yet.
Luis shook Armando. “Put on your seatbelt. Keep your head down.”
The car pushed into the bumper of my car again, harder this time. With a sparking crunch, my car swerved as I pulled at the wheel to control it. Maybe this was it. I held my body stiffly, not knowing what was about to happen.
“I should have driven.” Luis braced his legs against the inside of the car and grabbed for the wheel, trying to help me steady the car.
“Your gun,” shouted Armando. “Where’s your gun?”
“No guns!” Luis shouted back.
He grabbed my trembling arm, but I hunched forward, determined to stay on the road. I hadn’t risked my life to lose now. Time slowed down as they rammed us hard enough to push us across the road to the shoulder. My senses overwhelmed with the discordant grating of metal on metal made me lose it. I screamed, but Luis hung onto the wheel. Armando’s hysterical shouts for the gun rose above the racket.
“Luis! I can shoot!”
“No,” Luis shouted. “Jane is pregnant with my child.”
In spite of the terror surrounding us, that sentence coming from the man I loved instantly calmed me. My body relaxed with the knowledge of his acceptance. And somehow, him admitting the baby was his lifted any feelings of hopelessness that had been weighing me down.
“Pull over,” Luis yelled. “Just pull over. I run through that gunfight to die on the road because of an asshole.”
Luis placed himself between me and the wheel. I slammed on the brakes while he yanked the wheel sharply to the left. The menacing car narrowly missed us on the right as it veered off the road and toward the dense woods. It sped past a line of trees then swiped the side of a tall pine before rolling to a stop.
My car was on the wrong side of the road facing the wrong way. With my foot on the gas, Luis steered us toward the shoulder. I gripped Luis’s arm when our headlights illuminated the Kentucky plates on the smoking car stalled ahead of us.
“I recognize that car,” I whispered. “It’s my ex-husband’s.”
Luis leapt out and rushed toward the other car like a crazy person. “Drive off.” He told Armando, not waiting for my pleas to return. “Get her to safety.”
My screaming filled the woods as a weakened Armando desperately held me back in the car.
Andrew jumped out of his car to meet Luis. Andrew was Luis’s height but slightly heavier. He’d shaved his head and now wore the flannel of the Disciples. Luis was face-to-face with my insane ex-husband. The two men circled each other, waiting to see if the other had a weapon. Hatred was the only weapon they needed.
Armando was in too much pain to hold my struggling body. I shook free of him, tore out of the car, and ran to Luis as Armando stumbled out holding his bloody side. My life was about to begin or end. It all depended on if Luis won or lost.
“Andrew, leave me alone!” I screamed.
“Jane, I’m here to take you back east.” Andrew spoke calmly, as if he were discussing the weather.
A sickening feeling washed over me. “You’re a Disciple?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I am now. I knew the brotherhood would accept me and aid me in saving my pure wife from this dirty immigrant.”
“I’m an American, born here like you,” growled Luis.
Andrew scoffed. He didn't recognize Luis as a threat or a person. “First, I’m going to beat this dumb immigrant to death, and then I’m going to teach you not to run away from your marital duties.”
When Andrew spat on Luis, the fight switched from angry words to punches. Andrew landed the first punch into Luis’s gut. Luis went into a frenzy with a primal growl. He lifted Andrew up off the ground and slammed him down. Landing on top, Luis swung, and Andrew punched back, but Luis stayed on top punishing him with blows.
Armando caught hold of my arm and begged me to stop screaming. He reasoned the noise would attract attention. Crying and holding my mouth, I watched as the two men fought. My head pounded as if their fists were slamming against me instead.
Andrew was not a we
ak man, at least not physically, and it was no small feat for Luis to keep the upper hand. And we would all perish if Luis was beaten.
Armando didn't ask for the gun again as we watched Luis transform into an enraged punisher determined to protect what was his. Luis yelled with each punch, even when Andrew stopped fighting back. Slowly, Andrew stopped moving until he lay still on the ground in a bloody heap.
It was brutal, but all I could feel was relief. My hands held my belly, and I knew Luis would protect me and our baby from all dangers. There was no need for me to run away again. I didn’t have to hide from anyone anymore.
Chapter Nineteen
JANE
The rising light of the dawn illuminated the dark silhouettes of the cityscape as we drove into Mesa. We’d made it home. I insisted again that Armando go to the hospital, and Luis agreed. In the ER, Armando claimed he’d been robbed the night before and that we had heard his cries for help passing by the store. The nurse was more concerned with Armando’s wound than our fabricated explanation.
