Page 544 of Devil’s Disciples

“Grab the bicycle,” I said.

Crip rushed to the bicycle and carried it into the darkness.

In a matter of seconds, a car’s headlights illuminated the street in front of the restaurant. As its taillights disappeared toward the highway, I relaxed my grip on who I hoped was Luiz.

There were many ways I could have attempted to find out what it was I wanted to know. Most methods would be met with answers I didn’t want, followed by a period of arguing. Eventually, using torture as my only tool, I would extract the information I wanted, all the while wondering how accurate the given responses were. Under duress, men often admit to things that aren’t necessarily true.

I chose what I believed was a better option. “Tu nombre es Luiz. No?”

Your name is Luis? Right?

He rubbed his neck and nodded. “Sí.”

Yes.

“Lo siento,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “El Primo nos envió. Estamos aquí para matar a Carma, por venganza. Puedes ayudarnos?”

I’m sorry. Primo sent us. We’re here to kill Carma, for revenge. Can you help us?

He nodded. “Sí.”

Yes.

I wanted someone to be responsible for what I was feeling. For taking my joy, love, and elation and replacing it with sadness and anxious tension. To pay for the inconvenience I was going to suffer from being forced to move to Mexico.

To pay for what Carma and her family were going through. Their loss, their pain, and the solemn mood that hung in the air in a home that was once filled with family’s dinnertime laughter.

Luiz was the last piece of the puzzle. Although he wasn’t directly responsible for the capture of Carma’s father, he was all I had.

I pulled the silenced pistol from the waist of my pants. While he nodded eagerly in confirmation of his ability to help us kill Carma, I pointed it at the side of his head and pulled the trigger.

The pfft sound from the weapon’s silencer was followed by a dull thud from him falling onto the concrete embankment of the ditch.

I wanted his death to bring relief. To allow me to feel whole again.

To give me strength.

Yet. As he lay dead at my feet, all I felt was empty.

203

Carma

We’d packed our necessities into boxes, labeling each one with a list of the contents. In looking around the living room, I couldn’t deny that change was coming. That realization, however, did nothing to prepare me for what was ahead.

“I don’t like it that we just have to wait,” I said. “That we don’t know if it’s going to be a week, a day, or a month. I wish we could talk to him.”

“If we go to see him, we’ll be arrested,” my mother replied. “That’s not an option, Carma.”

“I know, but I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.”

Reno carried a box to the corner of the room and stacked it on top of the pile. “I wonder if that cop can get word to him. Maybe if there’s something you want to say, I can get a note to him or something.”

It had been a week since my father’s arrest. It was, without a doubt, the longest week of my life. “That might be nice,” I said. “He’d like to know what our plans are.”

“He knows what our plans are,” my mother said. “We’re a family.”