“We were just robbed by knifepoint,” he said, touching his neck before examining the red blood on his fingers. Is she in shock?
Mia looked down. “I know. If you want to go, that’s fine, but please leave me out of it.”
“But you were there. You were assaulted too, Mia. You saw the one with the knife’s face. I didn’t. The fucker has my license. He knows where I live.” How could the same woman who’d held it together when their lives were being threatened fall to pieces at a simple task of reporting the crime to the police? What if Mia had walked through here alone?
Tears fell down her cheeks as her broken expression morphed into terror. “I know. Please, Andre, leave me out of this. If Bently comes and asks me, I’m going to say nothing.”
Surely he had stepped into an alternate reality.
“Why?”
She shook her head. “I can’t . . .”
If nothing else about the situation made sense, the fear in her eyes was real.
“Let’s get you home,” he said, but his mind spun.
She’d seemed afraid to report the guy who’d shoved her over the cliff too. A pattern was forming. Andre’s stomach sunk. Somewhere, sometime, something had happened to Mia. Something terrible.
19
Mia’s Letter
For the first couple years after we were denied asylum, my mother checked in yearly with Immigration and Customs Enforcement as I’ve said. I focused on my degree while working full-time at several different jobs. I was so determined to graduate and be able to give my mother a life with less stress about income.
My friend Carmen is a programmer. During my last semester in college, we worked together to develop an app to help immigrants find resources and connect with others in their location for support.
I watched as families were ripped apart. Our elderly neighbor had served in the military for twenty-five years before he lost a leg while putting his life on the line in service of the very country that deported him.
I’ve been yelled at, propositioned, and assaulted all because of where I was born or the color of my skin—none of which I could control. Judged not for my heart, but my skin and heritage. I know you can understand what that is like.
To be accepted into DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) you cannot have a criminal record. I thought this was common knowledge, but as the protests increased and immigration became the issue all over the news cycles, I heard them spreading lies on national television. They called us murderers, rapists, and criminals.
I lived in fear of leaving the house. Would I be stopped and asked for my papers? At least I was protected by DACA, but would the ICE officers obey the law and let me go? Would they detain me for however long they wished or deport me?
We are just like you. We are good, hardworking people trying to live a safe and better life for ourselves and our families. Some flee violence, others poverty, or some seek a better opportunity. Isn’t that what your founding fathers said this country was for? “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” is carved on your Statue of Liberty.
During this time, my mother still had to work, and she didn’t have papers. She’d take the bus rather than risk driving herself. When they started raiding buses, she began walking if I was at school and couldn’t drive her.
Each year, we received a letter from the cartel describing in detail what they were going to do to us. How they would dismember and torture us. They kept a detailed list of all the men who would rape us. They knew where we lived. That’s the thing about fear—when you live with it like a roommate every day of your life, it becomes the bar for what’s normal. You get used to it. And once you get comfortable, that’s when the real terror starts.
Executive orders were passed under the new administration by the same president who claimed he’d only deport criminals. My mother went for her usual yearly check-in with ICE, and as I waited for her to come out, I got a call to say my friend’s app had taken off and she’d been offered a large sum of money by another company who wanted to join our partnership. I was so excited to tell Mamá the news. To tell her she didn’t have to work so hard anymore. I could take care of her and she could rest and relax and volunteer like she’d wanted but never had time to do.
When she walked out of the building, my glee quickly faded, morphing into a sick feeling that twisted in my gut. Her face was ashen, drained of life as she approached the car.
I asked her what happened and then, with her next words, she tore out my heart.
“I’m being deported, mija. I have thirty days.”
I held the tears in as a fierce determination overtook everything. “No, you won’t, Mamá. This can’t be right. I’ll fix this. Don’t you worry,” I promised her.
I visited our senators, wrote to those in power in our state. I paid for a handful of lawyers with what money I’d saved. I petitioned and did everything else I could, but it wasn’t enough.
The last day my mother was in the U.S., I went over all our possibilities. Her life was at stake, and the only people who could protect us turned their faces away from us, pretending people like us were not the very lifeblood of this country. The new partnership with the app was still pending, and the funds were not accessible or I’d have paid the cartel off. I’d have given everything so that my mother would be safe.
I borrowed from friends to pay a coyote to return my mother as soon as she landed in Mexico. She packed light, because she’d be returning. I knew the journey would be hard on her. She was not as young as she’d been the first time we’d crossed. I pleaded with her to let me go with her, but she refused.
She gave me her wedding ring and told me to keep it because it carried the love that my father had for her, and they in turn had for me. That someday, it would help me find my love. I remember the way she smelled—like wild rose with a hint of lemon cleaner.
I think in my heart I knew she was saying goodbye, but my mind wouldn’t believe it. She was just preparing me for the worst, while hoping for the best.
I hugged her as tightly as I could. “The coyote will find you when you land—his name is Javier. I’ll see you at the border in a few days.” I kissed her cheek.
She smiled, not bothering to wipe the tears streaming down her face. “I love you, mija. I just want you to live a life that makes you happy and keeps you safe. I’m so proud of you.”
She kissed my forehead and gave me one final hug before she walked away. She left on a plane, taking her back to the land in which she was born—a place I barely remembered.
That was the last time I saw my mother alive.
20
Mia
Stretching out her leg, Mia arched her back into pigeon pose. She exhaled, focusing on her breath. Her muscles were still a little sore. Because of Andre. And the most explosive sex she’d ever had. She bit back the smile. Shaking her head in an attempt to refocus her thoughts, she glided forward into upward dog and then down to plank. A delicious heat stirred in her belly, but she’d blame it on the planks and not the image flashing in her mind of the intense desire in his eyes. There had been something so primal about the way he’d taken her like that. She’d never connected that way with any of her lovers before. Too bad the shadow that followed her all her life had to go and ruin it so soon. Would he go to the police? Anxiety gripped her chest, constricting her airway.
Ping!
Mia shot a quick glance at her upside-down phone out of habit. The message could wait.
She eased onto her back as she relaxed and stretched out her sore muscles. Her neck ached from having her necklace ripped from her the night before. Bending her knees to her chest, she rocked side to side. Spreading her arms out, she straightened into her final pose of rest for a few minutes as she filled her belly with air. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she let herself drift into her safe place.
She could have taken all that had happened in her life and chosen to be bitter and stay closed off from people
in her life like Andre seemed to. But she owed her parents more. They didn’t die so that she could become a shell. Mia was going to do exactly as they wanted and be happy. She’d help others too. That was how she’d live in their legacy.
Ping!
She exhaled and sat up, reaching for her phone.
Mateo: Buenos días, beautiful! My flight gets in next Thursday morning at 9 and I can stay until 4. I have to drive to Boston after that for some meetings.
Mia: I guess we have quite a lot to do in such little time. Can’t wait to see you! I miss you.
She plugged in her cell by the bed and rolled up her mat before heading to take a shower.
A little while later, Mia was dressed in a pair of shorts and a white V-neck as she brushed out her long, wet hair. Knocking sounded from the first floor. She jogged down the stairs and opened the door.
“Andre.” She searched for any sign he’d brought Bently or another policeman. Only green grass and trees stood behind him. She let out a sigh of relief.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Sure.” Mia opened the door, allowing him access.
They walked over to the kitchen island and he took a seat.
“I was just going to make some coffee. Do you want some?” she asked.
Please don’t be here about the mugging.
“No, I, uh … I just wanted to talk about the other night.”
Shit. Option number two it is, then—distracting with flirtation.
“Well, we could go upstairs and you could show me. You made a lot of promises.” She smiled, hoping he’d take the bait and not bring up the mugging again.
His eyes darkened as he stared at her protruding nipples. She had no plans of leaving the house, so she’d gone without a bra.
He swallowed. “Not about that. About the robbery.”
“I told you—I just want to forget it ever happened.”
“Is there a reason why you don’t want to go to the cops and report it?”
She met his gaze as her whole body flushed with heat. Did he know?
Should I just tell him?
“They were kids. I’m worried about the younger one. It was obvious he did it under duress. The one with the knife threatened his sister.” It was true.
“All the more reason to talk to Bently,” he argued.
She’d walked right into that one. “Andre, you have every right to report it if you haven’t already. I am choosing not to. It’s too . . . risky.”
His expression softened as he stood and walked over to her. He caressed her cheek softly. “Are you worried he’ll come back and hurt you?”
Was she? He didn’t have her information, but if he sat outside Andre’s house, the maniac would be sure to see her. It didn’t matter. He was the least of her worries.
“Please don’t ask me to do this. I just can’t.” She leaned into his hand, drinking in the physical contact. It was a shame this would be all that would ever happen between them. She had promises to keep.
“I have a friend who works with homeless teens and runs a program for youth in the city. I’ll visit him and see if he knows anyone that fits the bill. I can ask if he has any idea who the younger one could be. Maybe we can help each other. He gives up the guy, and you don’t have to have any part in it.”
“You’d do that?” For me?
Andre nodded.
“What is the name of this place?”
Maybe the kids would benefit from a yoga and mindfulness class.
“Hope Facility. My friend Aaron runs it.”
She nodded.
His hand traced the edge of her chin as he leaned in to brush his lips softly against hers. A rush of sensations splintered through her with the contact. She brought her arms around his neck, and he deepened the kiss. Opening her mouth, she tasted him with her tongue. Gripping the back of his neck, she pulled him closer. She’d enjoy this explosive chemistry between them while it lasted. She wanted more—needed him.
“I want you, right now.” She hoped he could sense her impatience.
His hands moved down her shoulders, slipping farther to her hips as he lifted the hem of her shirt over her head. He broke the kiss to free her top, and she shivered as the cool air met her hard nipples. Her core throbbed with overpowering need. What was this man doing to her?
His eyes glazed over as he licked his lips, admiring her breasts. Her nipples ached in anticipation. Andre leaned down, sucking one into his mouth.
She gasped and moaned. The heat of his tongue against the sensitive flesh was almost enough to make her come on the spot. One of his hands cupped the other breast as his teeth raked over the hard nub. Fire tingled from the base of her neck and spread throughout her body, until every cell was aflame with unbridled yearning. “Andre, I need you.”
He pulled away, breaking the contact. “And you’re going to have me. But first, I believe I promised to make you come on my tongue.”
Damn. If her panties weren’t already soaked, they were now.
He reached for the button on her shorts and pulled them off, letting them drop to the floor. Her white lace panties didn’t last much longer, and then she was completely bare—standing in front of him with nothing but hazy lust intoxicating her senses.
“You’re fucking perfect.” Andre picked her up before setting her on the granite countertop. The frigid surface only registered for a moment as he spread her thighs and pulled her core to the edge. Fire and ice ravaged her body at once as his head dipped lower and his tongue lapped between her slick folds.
The sight of his head bobbing between her legs as his tongue lashed greedily at her pussy created a swirling vortex of pleasure. Until nothing else in the world existed except her euphoria. He devoured her as her body trembled, growing closer to her release.
He groaned as if this too was bringing him satisfaction. “You taste just like I thought you would. Sweet and spicy.” He dove back in, sucking her clit into his mouth as she screamed.
The orgasm took hold as she arched her back, grabbing his head and pulling him closer. His expert mouth sucked, swirled, and raked. The tormenting pleasure left her with a hollow ache.
“I need you inside me. Please,” she begged, coming down from her high.
He kissed a trail up her thigh, over her soft belly, stopping to lave at her breasts. “You’ll have to wait, beautiful. I promised you more orgasms, and by my count, that’s just the first. I’m gonna take my time and savor each one.” He kissed her mouth, her essence still on his tongue. The heady aroma of her own arousal was mixed with his clean wood musk.
“I don’t think you understand. I need you. Please? I’ll do anything you want—just please get inside me,” she begged in a wanton haze of sex-induced delirium.
He smirked against her mouth. “I promise to take you up on that, but I have another climax to deliver first. I have this client who’s a real pain in my ass. I’m hoping that a few orgasms will put her in a better mood.”
Mia laughed. “Your boss, huh?”
He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth as his fingers entered her. She gasped as he moved them in and out as his other hand played with her sensitive clit.
“Dios, Dre!”
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”
Mia let go, pleasure penetrating her ability to do anything other than experience the moment. She didn’t hold back as she screamed and moaned. He brought her to orgasm again in one long climax. She sat up, her nails digging into his back, as if he could keep her tethered to earth as her soul was shattered by his plundering fingers. He sucked the side of her breast, the pain sharpening the debilitating euphoria. Pleasure saturated every nerve ending as she was blanketed in warmth. Her muscles grew limp. His strong arms held her, picking her up. She laid her head against his warm, hard chest as he carried her towards her bedroom.
He gently set her on the soft comforter before he stripped his shirt off. Mia was dazed with satiated bliss. His brown muscles were defined and rigid. He bent to slip
his boots off before he pulled his tan Carhartts down. His cock sprang free, glistening with proof of his own desire.
The look in his eyes was hungry. All his lust was aimed at her, making her feel powerful for the first time in her life. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them away. This is just sex. That’s all he wants. That’s all I can have.
He removed a foil wrapper out of his pocket before he climbed on top of her.
She reached out her open palm. “Let me?”
Andre handed her the condom. She ripped it open, sliding her hand over his rock-hard cock as he hissed.
“Put it on,” he demanded as if he was in pain.
She pinched the end and rolled it over him, pumping her hand up and down a few times before he growled and grabbed her, intertwining his fingers with hers. He pinned them above her head as he slid inside in one hard thrust. She closed her eyes, relishing the connection. Her inner muscles clenched, needing him to move. Andre’s forehead touched hers, each breath matching her own as he pumped slowly in and out of her. The grip of his hands on hers, pinning her to the bed, tightened as if he was fighting his self-control to go slow. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.
There was no other sound in the room except their labored panting and the slap of flesh against flesh as Andre showed her what it was to . . . whatever this was. She’d never fucked like this before. What was it called when it was more than sex? When emotion twisted and tangled, the soul merging with the physical? It’s just amazing sex. It can never be more.
“Harder.” She opened her eyes as he lifted his head to stare at her. His forehead creased with his own impending pleasure.
He released her hands, and she immediately gripped his shoulders and kissed him. He sat up, spreading her legs apart on either side of him as he drove into her. She stretched her thighs as wide as they would go, allowing him deeper access.
“Give it to me. Yes. Dre!”
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 12