Sinner's Son (Savage Sons Motorcyle Club) (13 page)

Don Roberto looked at me for what felt like a full minute before he spoke. "Moses, is there anything I can do to change your mind? Perhaps something of value that I possess, that you desire?"

I sensed that he'd given up, that he'd accepted that I wasn't going to change my mind and he was simply offering one more time as an attempt to save face. "There is nothing that could possibly change my mind. Either you stop selling underage girls, or I will stop you myself, in my own way."

He nodded, as if I'd given him the answer he expected. "Then I suppose we have nothing more to say to one another. You may enjoy my hospitality for the rest of the today and this evening, but I will expect you to move on tomorrow morning. Is that clear?"

Joker shook his head and looked at me with disgust, clearly too pissed even to answer."

"Clear," I said, and I turned toward the door.

"Moses, I would speak with you privately for just a moment." It wasn't a question.

Joker and Zeno left the room and I turned to face the Don.

"Moses, you remind me of myself when I was a much younger man." He paused, but I had no intention of having any further conversation with him. "I was foolish and hot-headed. I thought I knew better than my father, better than my uncles, better than anyone else. As I got older, I learned that it isn't without penalty that we ignore the advice of our elders. I learned that sometimes, it is better to agree and get what you can out of a deal. Otherwise, you end up hurting people you had no intention of hurting."

He leaned forward in his chair. "Moses, nothing you do is without consequences. I see what you're trying to do, and I am telling you that you will regret it."

"So you think that by threatening me that you can change my mind?"

He shook his head. "No. Not at all. In fact, even if you didn't change your mind, it's already too late. You will learn this lesson the hard way, I'm afraid."

I
could still feel Moses' lips on mine as I rushed around the apartment spending the day in an attempt to round up all of the things we might need. It didn't help that I had no idea how long we'd be gone, but I did the best I could. I kept an eye on the clock, watching for the time when Nadia would arrive home from school.

One of the things I had to decide was what I should tell her. I couldn't tell her that Don Roberto wanted to turn her in to a whore like her mother, so I just figured that I should tell her that there was some non-specific threat of cartel violence spilling into our lives. What mattered most was that we get out of Juarez as quickly as possible.

I spent the day packing and worrying. And hoping. I hardly dared to let myself feel hope, but I couldn't help it. I was taking a step toward getting out of the trap I'd been in for so many years, and I couldn't help looking forward -- imagining a future in the U.S. with Moses. Picturing Nadia at a good school, going to college, and never knowing what I had done to take care of her. She could grow up safe and completely free of the cartel and the trap of having to sell her body to survive.

But first we had to get out of Juarez.

Hoping that Moses hadn't had any trouble with his MC brothers or with Luis, I looked at the piles of bags on the couch and hoped that the car he'd rented would have a large enough trunk. I took a deep breath and looked around the apartment, realizing for the first time that today might be the last time I ever saw it. I hadn't even thought about taking anything other than the necessities, and I felt panicked as I realized that I was really about to leave my whole life behind.

I walked over to the shrine on the wall, and I looked at the faces in the photographs. So many young men and women whose lives had been cut short because they'd had no other options. I quickly took each photograph down and stowed them in my purse. It would be good to have a reminder of how far we'd come and how much sorrow we'd escaped. Trying to picture Moses' house that looked out onto the mountains, I imagined pulling the photographs out of an envelope many years from now, and I wondered if I would still remember the names that went with each face. I knew I'd remember the tragedy, even if I forgot the names.

Looking around the apartment, I realized that I couldn't take everything. What I'd packed would have to do. I showered and put on clean, comfortable clothes for the drive, and I made myself another cup of coffee, unable to sit still while I waited for Nadia and Moses. I thought about walking to the school to go get Nadia, but I decided that I didn't want Moses to get there and think I'd gotten scared and backed out. Better to stay where I was so that both of them would be able to find me.

I drank my coffee and stared at the clock, watching the time that Nadia usually arrived home approach ... and pass. Becoming increasingly worried, I forced myself to wait until a full thirty minutes had elapsed. It wasn't all that uncommon for her to stop and talk with her friends after school, and the last thing I wanted was to rush out the door, only to embarrass her in front of her friends.

Thirty minutes.

Thirty-five minutes.

"That's long enough," I said, grabbing my purse and heading for the door.

I opened the door, and at first I simply couldn't process what I saw. Something blocked my way, preventing me from stepping outside. I know that I recognized it right away, but my mind just wouldn't let me make the connection. I saw the plaid skirt that I'd ironed the afternoon before. I saw the backpack that was starting to wear out along the straps. I saw the navy blue ribbon that Nadia liked to tie in her dark, wavy hair. I saw all of those things, but I couldn't put the pieces together for several minutes. The longest minutes of my life.

I was looking at the body of my precious Nadia.

I shook my head, clearing the fog that had descended on me, and I fell to my knees, hoping that she was breathing, but knowing that she was not. I turned her over, and I think I must have screamed when I saw the bruises and tears that marked her face. I ran my hands over her -- the girl that I had carried, nursed, and kissed every day of her life, but her limbs were lifeless.

Somehow, I started to notice more details, even through the desperate cries that I could feel burning my throat. I saw marks on her arms, handprints of the men who had held her. I saw blood between her thighs, and I knew that not only was my daughter gone forever, but she had suffered in her last minutes. She had been raped and had been beaten, and then she had been killed.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

I looked at Luke and Krystal sitting in my living room -- the same living room I'd tried to leave a year-and-a-half before. I'd told them the story of Moses and how he'd tried to help, but I hadn't yet told them how things had ended.

"I don't know how long I knelt there, hands on Nadia's body, but the clatter of the gate into my little courtyard startled me from my catatonic state.

“Moses walked through the gate, and as soon as he saw us, he knew what had happened. I could see the horror and the understanding in his face. I'm sure he spoke to me as he came to kneel beside me, tears in his own eyes, but I don't remember what he said. I don't think I was capable of hearing anything at that point.

“All I remember now is that I told him to leave. I told him that I never wanted to see him again. I think I told him that everything had been his fault, and that if he had never come home with me from Lupita's, that I would still have my daughter. I guess what I said was probably true, but in hindsight, blaming Moses wasn't entirely fair. If he hadn't come into my life, Nadia would probably still be alive, but she would be living the same life that I had -- the one I had never wanted and certainly didn't want for her."

Luke and Krystal looked dumbfounded, and I could see tears shining in Krystal's eyes. "I know now that it wasn't really Moses' fault, that he'd only been trying to help, but I was so angry that I didn't even care how badly I hurt him. I told him to leave and never, ever come back. I never saw him again."

The couple looked at one another, and I could see that they struggled to find words, worked to think of anything that they could say that might make things better, but we all knew that nothing would help. My daughter was dead, and nothing would ever change that or make it right. They lingered a while longer, saying things that were considerate and kind, and when they left, I felt relieved.

Talking about Moses and Nadia made the pain feel fresh again, and I tried every day to numb that pain. I did my job, mostly tending bar at Lupita's these days, since Luis would rarely trust me if I was out of his sight. Tending bar was fine. I hated it less than fucking men for money, and I knew that there was no escape for me. Hope was dangerous, and it was a luxury I couldn't afford. I didn't let myself imagine what life could have been like if we'd made it out of town in Moses' rental car that night -- all three of us safe and sound.

I almost regretted giving Luke the letters that Moses had sent me, along with the picture of me holding my newborn daughter in my arms, but he'd convinced me that he needed them to right the wrongs that the Savage Sons had done, including the things they'd done in Mexico. Moses' letters had been painful, and while I'd never written a single letter in return, I'd read every one that he'd sent. He'd explained that he still hoped to free me from the cartel, and he'd told me about the deals he'd made with the FBI and the DEA. When the letters had stopped arriving in May, I'd assumed that Moses had met someone new and had forgotten about me.

He hadn't forgotten me, though, and the news of his death had just been another sad page in the story of my life. Everything I'd ever loved -- or might have loved -- was gone. Luke and Krystal had promised me that they'd try to get me out of Mexico if I wanted to leave, but I didn't believe them. I'd given them my address, and they had my phone number, but I never expected to hear from them again.

Happy endings don't exist for women like me.

S
tanding in front of the mirror, I studied my reflection. I thought about shaving, and I decided that walking into church all neat and clean-shaven might not convey the right image. I already had enough of a mountain to climb in facing my brothers. I couldn't afford to alienate them any more than I had when I set up Joker to be arrested. I'd shrugged off Tanner's offers to have some of her associates waiting outside in case I needed help during the meeting of the Savage Sons, but I knew that there was no guarantee that I'd live to see the sun set that day. I was taking a risk in attending the meeting, but I knew that I had to at least make the attempt to tell my brothers what I'd learned in Mexico -- to try to explain why I'd done what I had. I wasn't sure they'd listen, but I had to give it a shot.

I pulled on a dark gray, long-sleeved t-shirt, and I picked up my cut. It felt heavier than it usually did, and I think it must have been the weight of everything I'd done, the decisions I'd made that affected the lives of everyone around me -- my mother, my fiancée, my brothers in the Savage Sons, and most of all, my father. I ran my hands over the rocker on the back, feeling the individual stitches that attached the patch to the black leather. Joker had told me that Sable had sewn the patches on herself, and I wondered how she had been handling the mess I'd made of her life in the last few days.

Shrugging into my cut, I walked over to the bed and looked down at Krystal. "Didn't mean to wake you, babe."

She stretched, revealing glimpses of skin I'd gotten to know so well and that I really wanted to explore again, rather than going to a meeting with a bunch of guys who wanted to kill me.

"Don't be," she said. "I needed to get up early today, anyway. I have some schoolwork I need to do, and then I'm going to stop by and see your mother."

"Does she know you're coming?" I asked, surprised.

"Not yet. I'm going to text her and let her know."