Page 2 of LA Reign

“My name is Lucia Ramos, not Lucy Callaghan. I’m from Philadelphia, not Chicago. My parents didn’t die in a car crash. My mom died when I was eight, and my father and brothers were murdered when I was fourteen. I’m the only surviving member of the Ramos family.”

“Ramos?” I repeat. The name sounds familiar to me, although I can’t pinpoint why.

“Yes,” she says sadly.

“Why do I recognize that name?”

“Because they made themselves quite the name in Philadelphia. At least until two years ago when the entire family was wiped out. All except little Lucia here,” Alejandro answers.

I recall that story from the news now. It was widely reported at the time in the papers and on the TV. A father and two sons were slaughtered in a gangland style execution in their own home. The body of his teenage daughter was never recovered, and she was assumed to have been kidnapped and murdered. I often wondered about the fate of that poor girl and don’t know how many times I prayed that she’d escaped. And now she’s standing right here in our den.

“Please, have a seat, Lucia,” Alejandro says again as he indicates the armchair, his tone a little calmer now. “And tell us what really brought you to LA, and why you decided to drag my wife, and by association me, into your mess of a life.”

I shoot him a look of annoyance. She might have lied to me, to all of us, but she’s still just a child who endured the kind of thing no kid should ever have to. Does he have no compassion for her? Or is he just putting on a front? I of all people know how good he is at hiding what he’s really feeling.

Lucia finally takes a seat on the armchair, and Alejandro takes my hand and guides me to the sofa to sit beside him. I’m thankful to have something solid beneath me because my knees are shaking.

Lucia blinks at us, looking both fierce and helpless as she picks at the skin of her fingernails.

“What happened in Philadelphia the night your father and brothers were murdered?” Alejandro asks her, gently probing rather than demanding. Perhaps he does have some compassion in his heart. Well, of course he does, even if he doesn’t like to show it to the outside world. It’s one of the many reasons I love him.

Lucia swallows and then holds his gaze, determined and defiant even though this must be impossibly difficult for her to talk about. “When those men came, I hid. I heard my father and my brothers being slaughtered, and when they came for me, I ran.”

Alejandro frowns. “And that’s it? You just ran and they never caught up with you?”

Lucia glares at him. “I used to run track for my high school. I was the best in the district. I also knew my neighborhood better than any of those goons. So I ran, and then I hid. I lived on the streets for a few weeks until the heat died down a little. But I knew I needed a long-term plan. It was only a matter of time before my father’s enemies came looking for me, or the state found me and put me into care–and then I’d be a sitting duck. So I went to see one of my brother’s friends, Blake. I thought that he’d be able to look out for me. And at first, he did. He got me false papers. He told me he loved me. We were planning to move to Boston and get married. But it seemed he was just after the kudos that marrying a Ramos would give him. He was still seeing his ex-girlfriend behind my back. I caught them fucking and laughing about what a sucker I was. So, I ran. Again. I caught a bus and then ended up here in LA.”

How she’s managed to survive all of that is incredible, and so sad it makes my heart break for her. No child should ever have to endure what she did, and despite how matter-of-factly she tells her story, I know experiencing such a terrible tragedy must have scarred her irrevocably. However, Alejandro doesn’t seem to share my concern, and his eyes are narrowed in suspicion as he stares at her. “Do you expect me to believe it was a coincidence that you ended up in the shelter where my wife works?”

Before I can tell him that he’s being unfair and judgmental, Lucia is already answering his question. “Whether you believe it or not, it was a coincidence. And yes, it was a fortunate one for me, I’ll agree, but I couldn’t have known that at the time, could I? I had no idea how you’d react to me being a Ramos.”

Alejandro remains quiet, still regarding her intently.

“But why would Lucia seek either of us out?” I ask him, still bewildered by this whole situation.

Lucia tips her chin.

Alejandro rolls his shoulders. “Because, Alana, the people who murdered Lucia’s family caused us some problems in Philadelphia. They were our biggest competition. And, as Lucia well knows, sometimes our enemy’s enemy can be our greatest ally.”

“So they’re you’re rivals?” I ask.

“They were,” he replies, deadpan.

Lucia snorts a laugh. “Yeah, before their boss and his second had their heads chopped off and put on spikes a few months back.”

Alejandro flashes her a look and she stops laughing and clamps her mouth shut in a dramatic, teenage fashion.

“They had what?” My eyes dart between Lucia and my husband. “Did you have anything to do with that?” I ask him.

“Now is not the time, princesa” he says quietly, almost under his breath. I should have known better than to ask such a question in front of Lucia, but I’m feeling completely out of my depth here.

Alejandro reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine before giving it a firm squeeze, reminding me that we’re in this together. Yes, there are things I’m in the dark about right now, but I trust this man in every way that matters. He directs his attention toward our house guest once more. “For the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you ended up in LA and at the shelter by chance. What brings you here to our door tonight? Don’t you have a foster family you should be with right now?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” she says, and that glimpse of vulnerability is back, shimmering beneath the coat of armor she’s had to develop to survive in this world alone. She sniffs. “I hate that place, and they hate me too. They tried to force me to go to church and told me I need to repent for my sins.” She rubs a hand over her pregnant belly, and I’m struck by how fragile and strong she is all at once. How dare anyone make her feel bad about her choices? “They made me read the Bible after dinner too. And the guy is a creep.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “A creep how?”

She shudders. “Just the way he goes on about sinning and Jesus and all. He’s always staring at me.”