"My partner and I like to do these consultations together. I hope you don't mind?" When I shook my head he continued, "It says here that you have a three-year-old son with a Mexican citizen?" Mr. Roman, the blonde one, was the first to start speaking, flipping through the pages in his folder.
"Yes, and he's almost four," I responded as both men started writing on their notepads.
"In Mexico, you were involved in an incident... a gang shooting?" Mr. Merrick asked the next question. "The father of your child, Mr. Leon-Martinez, was subsequently arrested and you were deported back to the U.S.?"
I nodded, and they scribbled.
"I don't see that you were charged with anything. Why were you deported?"
"I moved to Mexico to live with my father when I was sixteen. I had a temporary resident status. By the time of the shooting, my resident status had long expired. My father mentioned it, and I told him I would take care of it but never did. After the arrest, they needed som
ething to charge me with, so they used that."
"Hm." Mr. Roman wrote something down. "Why weren't you able to bring your son home? He should be allowed entry into the U.S. since his mother is a citizen."
"I never applied for dual citizenship. I kept meaning to do it. Time just got away from me." I slumped down in the chair, feeling like the dumbest person on the planet. Brando squeezed my hand reassuringly.
"The application process for that takes time. Time I'm guessing you would rather not spend waiting. The father will not consent to the child leaving the country?" Mr. Roman leaned back in the chair, pen flicking between his fingers.
"No. Miguel still has rights. Even in jail, apparently. Luckily my father was able to get custody of him. So he's in a safe place."
"Let's go back to the shooting incident," Mr. Merrick chimed in. "Can you explain your involvement? Anything you can remember. It will help us make a case against the father."
I stared around the table at all three men, their eyes focused on me and waiting for me to speak. I looked down at my hands and began my story.
****
Miguel hadn't been doing security at all in Guadalajara. He was running drugs for the cartel, the Asesinos. He'd also been sampling the merchandise. By the time I moved in with him he'd already begun a downward spiral. I couldn't just leave him alone to deal with it, so I tried to help him. Convince him to turn his life around. I thought the baby would be the best motivation. For six months, I dealt with his mood swings. Violent. Paranoid. Clingy. After the baby was born, we took a taxi home from the hospital and on the way, he had the driver make a stop. I didn't know as I was waiting in the back seat, holding my newborn baby in my arms that his father was inside dropping off money and drugs. Night after night I was left alone in the apartment by myself with my son, while he was out making enemies. I didn't know the danger he was putting us in.
When Bash was a year old a bunch of men came to the apartment and kicked in the door. They were looking for Miguel. Someone in the group had taken pity on a young girl with a baby and that was the only reason I wasn't kidnapped and held for ransom. To make them leave I had to give them all the money in Miguel's safe. After that, I left him and went back to Santicero where I hid behind Ritchie's security gate for months. Miguel came after his money. Not for me. Not for his son because he missed him. Our child became his pawn. He threatened to take Bash if I didn't give him his money back. He knew that my family was loaded, though I personally didn’t have access to that kind of cash. I knew if I’d asked Ritchie to pay it back, he would have either killed Miguel or gotten himself killed. Most likely the latter. So, I called Madelyn. Giving him that money was only one of many mistakes. He used Bash as a constant form of blackmail until I was forced to go with him on big runs because he thought a man with a family provided an excellent disguise. That also meant Bash would have to come along.
The night of the shooting, Bash was supposed to have been with us, but he'd been out with Carmen. Miguel grew impatient waiting, so we went without him. It had been dark out when we got to the meeting place. Miguel got out and did the talking while I stayed in the car. He was a full-fledged Asesinos by then and had been trusted to run more extensive operations. One minute I was peeling away the polish on my fingernails, the next there was shouting and gunfire. I ducked down in the seat, trying to protect myself when suddenly my leg felt like it was on fire. There was intense pain and heat, and then everything went black.
****
Mr. Roman and Mr. Merrick were scratching their pens over their writing pads. Brando was still holding my hand, and I met his gaze. His eyes were soft and sympathetic. He'd already heard the story.
"You were taken to the hospital for treatment and then arrested?" Mr. Roman asked, still writing.
"Yes, it wasn't life-threatening. The doctor stitched me up, and the cops arrested me the next morning. Then I stayed in jail until I was put on a flight back to the U.S."
"Your son must have had an angel looking out for him," Mr. Merrick said quietly, his silver eyes softening just a little.
"Carmen has always been my angel." I nodded in agreement.
"All right." Mr. Roman continued his note taking. "Good. I think we have enough to get started. My partner and I will keep you updated on our progress." Both men stood, buttoning up their suit jackets.
"Wait. That's it?" I sat forward, my gaze moving between them. "What happens next? How long will it take?" My mind clouded with questions.
"We'll have to do some case study. Look for precedence—" Mr. Roman had begun a list of actions until Mr. Merrick cut him off.
"You said your son had a birthday coming up, right?" I nodded, and Mr. Merrick flipped his folder closed. "Start planning his party." Then he spun around and left the conference room with Mr. Roman following behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brando
"You have a little on your mouth."