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  “The crime is bad,” said Rosa, “but if he lived here, it would be cleaned up in a day. Who’s the goofy boy standing behind him?”

  “Oh, that’s no boy,” I replied. “That’s his son, Nathan. I don’t like the guy. I only met him once, but he’d be a complete loser if his dad wasn’t Mayor.”

  Rosa refilled my teacup. “Well, Jane, we all got our baggage and sometimes, it’s walking around on two legs.”

  I shook my head. “I still laugh at how he tried to pick up poor Felicity while we were volunteering. Who does that? Who picks up a girl at a soup kitchen?”

  “As I said, people are loco.”

  My phone vibrated and I shut it off.

  “Sorry Jane, I see you’re busy.” Rosa stood and started toward the apartment door. “Be careful walking to the soup kitchen. Did you find a car yet?”

  “Yes, Francine gave me Felicity’s old car.”

  “Good. I’ll tell Roger to clear his trailer out of your parking space. Good night.”

  “Bye.”

  The door shut behind her, but I didn’t get up from my chair. I had another hour to wait if I decided to volunteer at the soup kitchen today. Coming to California had been a good move for me. Andrew had finally stopped calling once the divorce went through, and I’d decided to take a break from men. I had a job that paid for my rent. I’d even looked at some local community colleges. Life was falling into place finally.

  My phone buzzed again. I’d swiped ‘snooze’ instead of shutting off the alarm. I prayed my luck would hold out a little longer. I got up slowly and walked into the bathroom. The plastic wand was propped up on the tiled countertop and I could see the two pink lines from the open doorway. I inhaled deeply as my eyes closed. Deep down, I’d known what the result would be. Just as sure as Mayor Pryor would win the election, I knew I was pregnant.

  I grabbed the stick and slammed it into the wastebasket under the sink.

  The headaches, the drowsiness, the weight gain, and of course, the missed periods. A woman doesn’t need to have been pregnant before to recognize the obvious signs. I was twenty-three, newly-single, and pregnant. Dad would welcome me back home, especially if it was a baby boy. But running home with my tail between my legs wasn’t my style. And I’d also have to deal with Andrew again. I had to be positive, or I’d go mad, and that meant being pro-active.

  I looked at my phone and scrolled down my contacts until Luis’s number appeared on the screen. I hadn’t been with a man since the day I arrived in Mesa. And we’d used a condom that day. Or maybe… we didn’t. I definitely remembered the first time we did, but we’d had sex a lot more than once.

  I had to tell Luis. I didn’t want to, but I had to. No matter what decision I made, Luis had to know I was carrying his baby.

  Opting not to call, I sent him a vague text to meet me at the soup kitchen. I’d wondered if the Cazadores would continue to volunteer there after the election, but they had. It turned out that the homeless of Mesa was a reliable source of information. They were a collective of invisible informants most people ignored. They moved unnoticed as they watched everything that went on in the city. But I wondered if they were loyal to the Cazadores.

  My heart pounded against my chest when I saw his text pop up almost immediately. It was a thumbs up, followed by a red rose. If he only knew what I was about to tell him.

  Chapter Seven

  LUIS

  At first, I didn’t recognize the number, but I remembered the name. Of course I wanted to see Jane again. But it had been over two months, and Jane had made it clear back then that she didn’t want a relationship. After the drive-by, I never expected to see or hear from her again.

  That night, we’d coasted along on my bike to an address on a quiet suburban street on the Southside. Despite her half-hearted protest, I’d carried Jane’s backpack to the door. She’d given me a quick kiss and asked me to leave first. The Southside girls liked to party on the Northside and I’d figured she didn’t want to piss off her daddy.

  Sitting at a table in the clubhouse, I pressed the thumbs up emoji. And Jane texted back, ‘soup kitchen.’ Hector sat at the table beside me looking over my shoulder at my text. He didn’t talk much because he was too busy eavesdropping. But Hector was a loyal friend and one of the few people in the club I trusted.

  “Trying to place a name with a face?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied. “I know the name and the face.”

  “And the rest,” he said.

  Our laughter filled the clubhouse. The dimly lit place was half empty. It’d been an old Mexican restaurant, but the Cazadores were the owner’s only regular customers. He took the sign above the door down, and now the place only served our MC.

  “We need to talk,” said Hector. “Emilio wants you to be more involved on the street.”

  I sighed. I kept a low profile, away from the ugly street stuff. I had no interested in the hookers, the drugs, and the money laundering. Wearing a tailored suit and a smile, I collected payments from the Southside. The white-collar customers appreciated my non-threatening looks and my classy manners. I preferred to use charm to collect our debts. I had my reasons.

  My apartment had stood empty when Oscar left for prison. He asked me to look after Momma and I moved into her home. In actuality, Momma had looked after me. But that soon changed. The older neighbors needed my help and I couldn’t ignore it. The widow, Mrs. Sykes, had a son who was an addict and he stole from her home. One day, I watched as she chased him into the front yard. The asshole knocked the old lady down on the pavement. In a rage, I walked across the lawns until I was in front of her house. I grabbed him by the neck and saw those stoned eyes looking back at me. The son told me it wasn’t my business, but it was.

  I shouted that if I’d had a real mother, one who worked her life to take care of me, I wouldn’t treat her like that. I punched him and emptied his pockets returning Mrs. Sykes’s jewelry to her. The bastard had taken her wedding ring. I actually called him the bastard to his face.

  “What do you want me to do with him?” I’d asked Mrs. Sykes.

  “Just make sure he never comes back.” Tears shone on her withered cheeks.

  I threatened her junky son with death if he returned.

  Swearing, he stumbled into his car and drove off. I cursed under my breath, knowing he’d probably bought his junk at the playground. No children dared played there, but it was where El Cazador sold our bags. After that day, the drugs and the hookers left a sour taste in my mouth.

  Hector shook my forearm that rested on the table. “Luis, you look miles away.”

  “Just thinking,” I sighed. “What does Emilio expect me to do?”

  “Patrol, for now. The Disciples are coming into the territory again. Now that Emilio lost the election, they’re flexing muscle.”

  I scoffed as I shoved my phone inside my leather jacket. “Did anyone but Emilio expect him to win?”

  Hector tapped the table as if it were a bad habit. But I knew better. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a club girl wiping the bar with excessive concentration. That spot had to be clean by now. I didn’t know her name and didn’t care. Emilio had resorted to spying on us since Oscar’s departure. I got up and looked at the door. Hector followed me and we continued our conversation outside.

  “What about the Nation?” I asked.

  Hector lit up a cigarette. “We have a truce now until it’s broken.”

  The Outlaw Nation was a predominately Black MC in Mesa. They had Latin members, but most were American born. They usually stuck to the stolen property, and we stuck to our deliveries.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “We have drops to the Southside.”

  I had to smile. Emilio had lost the election, but he’d smartened up his business plan. We made deliveries to our wealthy clients instead of them driving to our corner stores. All we needed was an app for people to place orders.

  “I’m not an errand boy, Hector. I’m the VP. Second in
Command. Should I remind Emilio?”

  “He’s still angry over Oscar running off with the sheriff’s daughter.” Hector scoffed. “Emilio’s expecting all of us to prove our loyalty to the club.”

  I nodded. I missed Oscar and I tried to understand why he left, but his actions made it harder on the rest of us who never planned to leave.

  “We’re supposed to be family,” I said, “but sometimes, it feels like we’re strangers.”

  “Talk about a stranger, your brother keeps disappearing and reappearing. I’d suggest you pull him in before he gets us all killed or thrown in jail.”

  Carlos was another problem I didn’t want to deal with. I checked my phone. “Look, I got to go.”

  “8th Street Church?” he smirked. “Are you going there to recruit?”

  “We’re doing that now?” I asked, swinging my leg over the seat of my bike.

  “The Nation started their own soup kitchen so they could recruit. Emilio thinks it’s a good idea. He’s serious about winning an election eventually.”

  I shook my head as I fastened my helmet. “You think he’ll run again?”

  Hector shrugged. “If he doesn’t get shot first. Maybe, I’ll run for town council.”

  I laughed as I rode away.

  ***

  The Mission Presbyterian Church on 8th street was built before the city was that surrounded it, and it looked older than the dirt it sat on. It had a loyal following of churchgoers from both the Southside and the Northside. It was probably one of the few places where both sides of the city intermingled.

  I strolled into the church’s basement rec room where the soup kitchen was set up and looked around. It was late and almost everyone was gone. I saw Jane toward the back of the room folding up chairs as Armando, our prospect, helped out.

  “Hey, Armando,” I hugged him around the back. “Go help somewhere else while I help the little lady.”

  Jane stopped stacking chairs and at first, she looked a little miffed at being called a ‘little lady,’ but when she looked into my eyes, she smiled. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was. Not as skinny as before, but the plumpness suited her sexy figure and made her look softer. Her scented hair was a deeper brown than mine and her blue eyes sparkled as I approached her.

  I wasn’t sure if I should kiss her on the mouth, so I pressed my lips to her rosy cheek. Jane didn’t seem to mind my touch.

  “It’s good to see you again,” she said breathlessly.

  I thought her panting might be from lugging chairs, so I took the one out of her hands and grabbed a second. I motioned for her to lead the way. She insisted on grabbing a third chair, and I smiled at her independence. Only a dumb man would boss this woman around.

  “What have you been up to?” I asked.

  “I have a job, an apartment, a car.” Jane hesitated and looked away from me.

  I had to ask, “A boyfriend?”

  Jane made that sweet sound like tiny bells whenever she giggled. I liked to make her laugh.

  “No, no boyfriend,” she replied smiling.

  She looked away again as she put the chair in the rack. I wondered whether she’d thought about me again. But there would be no ‘us,’ and I knew I didn’t want to involve a girl like Jane with the club. She was too sweet, even when she cursed like a pissed-off sailor.

  “So, if there’s no boyfriend, and I have no girlfriend, that means you might want me to distract you again?”

  Jane looked me up and down, and then bit her glossy lip. Maybe she had been thinking about me a lot.

  I took her hand gently and bent down low to whisper in her ear. “You liked how I touched you last time. I could touch you on the spot on your thigh. The one that made you scream.”

  Her eyes went wide as she recalled how I’d made her feel and she squirmed a little.

  I went in for the kill, leaning in closer, and whispered against the curve of her ear. “I know what makes you scream when you’re in my bed. Multiple times.”

  A rosy flush spread across Jane’s gorgeous face. She pushed me away with a laugh. She didn’t appreciate how beautiful she was. In my bed, she had stroked my hair and I liked it. I’d liked all of her. Her softness as she wiggled her warm body close to mine. The fullness of her breasts in my hands, and the smooth skin over her soft thighs. I remembered it all and I missed it every day.

  “Maybe later,” she said. “After we talk.”

  Oh no. The three words I hated to hear from a woman’s mouth. My desire cooled, but I had no idea what she’d want to talk about after so many months apart.

  “Are you finally going to tell me your safe word?” I hinted.

  She giggled again. “Less flirting, more folding, Romeo.”

  ***

  After we finished cleaning up, Jane suggested I come back to her apartment. I’d ridden my bike, but she had a car. It was her friend’s piece of crap car that Oscar and I had had to fix. But it was a good thing that car broke down that day.

  I told Jane I’d follow behind her.

  In my rearview, I saw a bike in the distance. It got dark early in the autumn so I couldn’t tell if it was ours or not. The bike stayed back, so I figured it was nothing. I decided to pay attention to Jane’s driving when I almost lost sight of her car turning. I’d expected her to cross the border into Southside, but Jane drove onto Grove Avenue and pulled her car into a parking lot behind a three-story brick apartment building. I parked my bike behind her car.

  “You live here?” I asked.

  Jane nodded. “Are you surprised?” She had a smirk on her cute face.

  “You know you’re on the wrong side of the tracks?”

  “The best men are on the wrong side of the tracks.”

  The flirty girl I’d met at the bus station had returned, and the uncertainty she’d shown at the soup kitchen was gone. I leaned in to kiss her as a bike with two Disciples rode up right next to us.

  A sharp pain sliced across my thigh as a man on the back of the bike shouted heated obscenities at me. He’d cut me with his blade, which he pointed again at me. Blood soaked my jeans black. I pulled my knife, but it was yanked out of my hands.

  “Back off,” shouted Jane holding my knife toward them.

  I stared in surprise at her bravery or foolishness. I wanted to tell her to run, but my words came out as a hiss of pain. The men laughed at her, but they stopped laughing when the knife sailed through the air and ended up in the man’s arm. His blade clattered on the ground.

  Jane was fast. Before they could react, she pulled the knife out of his arm and kicked the other out of reach.

  “You ever seen an animal skinned?” she shouted. “You’re about to if you don’t clear off.”

  “You crazy bitch!”

  Thankfully, they rode off. I bled heavily and I prayed that they hadn’t hit an artery.

  “I’ll call 911,” said Jane.

  “No!” I shouted. “No cops.”

  “But you’re bleeding to death.” Jane was in a panic as her adrenalin wore off.

  “No cops, Jane. I’ll be arrested.”

  “Can you ride?”

  I shook my head. I knew I wouldn’t make it far.

  “Come on,” she hugged me around the waist. “Let’s get in the car. I’ll drive you to Momma’s house.”

  Chapter Eight

  JANE

  With Momma’s help, we got Luis into her house and into the kitchen. I hadn’t been back since the party and the shooting. From the mind-blowing sex to running away from danger, I still remembered that entire day. It’d been a while since I’d felt the rush of excitement. But this wasn’t the kind of excitement I’d been craving. It made my stomach churn.

  Luis’s wound was deep and he needed stitches.

  “Momma, do you have some heavy thread?” I asked.

  She looked surprised. “I was just about to get the sewing box,” she replied.

  “Good,” I said, “and a bottle of whiskey if you have it.”

  Momma nod
ded. I could tell by the look in Momma’s eye that she knew I knew what to do. Growing up in the country, my dad was an avid hunter, and he had no sons to take shooting. Gladly, I took the place of a son to spend more time with Dad. In the mountains of Appalachia, I learned how to hunt, fish, and trap. And being around knives and guns, someone was bound to get hurt. I’d sewn Dad up and later, Andrew, more times than I cared to tell.

  Momma set the basket on the table as I helped Luis off with his jeans.