Page 542 of Devil’s Disciples

“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.

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Reno