Mouse Trapped

by Manda Mellett

  We walk past the bikes Matt’s still guarding. There’s some sort of park opposite, so we head that way. My feet step in front of each other automatically, my brain seems to have shut down. I’ve lost her. I’ll go after her. Don’t know where she’s fuckin’ gone.

  Drummer leads us to a clearing, and doesn’t keep us waiting. “Devil had nothing to do with this.”

  “Like fuck,” I spit out in disgust.

  “Mouse,” Drummer warns again, this time his voice, as well as his eyes, steely. “I’m warning you. We’re not abandoning Mariana, but if you can’t reel it in, I’m sending you home.”

  Not abandoning her?

  He waits, until I even my breathing and stop clenching my hands. “I’ve known Devil for a while, as have all of you. You particularly, Mouse. You know what he works on. He can be a bastard, but if he was using Mariana, he’d make sure she had a wire. He wouldn’t send her in unprotected.”

  “He left Sam,” I remind him.

  As Viper growls from behind, Prez’s face tightens. “She had a GPS implant. Not his fault they found it.”

  “Prez,” Viper starts.

  “No, Viper. We’ve no time to rehash history. But think, Mouse. If Devil was using Mariana to bring The Procurer down, she’d be wired up, and he’d be close by. Fact is, he’s nearer to us, in San Diego. He wants to bring The Procurer down, not send another victim to him.”

  Victim. “I’ve got to get to her, Drummer.” Don’t know how the fuck I’ll manage it, but I’ve got to do it.

  I expect him to talk me down, instead he’s nodding. “You’re not going alone, Brother.”

  Blade, Viper, Marvel and Dollar all look at each other, then they shrug. “Presume we’re going along,” Blade suggests.

  Drummer glances at them quickly. “Volunteers only. But yes. Look. Devil’s willin’ to put a team of mercenaries together to deal with this fucker The Procurer once and for all.”

  “Mercenaries?” Viper raises his eyebrows. “Not sanctioned?”

  “Not officially, no. Wouldn’t look good if the US launched an attack on a Colombian citizen.”

  “But the government wants him brought down?” I ask.

  “That seems the way of it.”

  “Haven’t got a passport,” Marvel observes. “With my record, I couldn’t get one.”

  “I suspect Devil will organise a private plane, private charter. They won’t want to leave a footprint. And I doubt many of us have them.”

  I nod at Prez, I certainly haven’t got a passport. Nothing stopping me, just never travelled out of the States.

  There’s something bothering me. “Look, Mariana’s mine. This sounds risky. Don’t want anyone putting themselves at risk. You get Devil to take me, Prez, the rest of you go home. Fuck, man, you’ve got your baby due shortly.”

  His piercing stare is on me again. “I’m the prez of the Satan’s Devils, Mouse. What the fuck do you think comes first?”

  “Club’s not at risk, Prez.”

  “It is.” It’s Viper who’s contradicting me. “You claimed the woman, that makes her ours. Ours to protect.”

  “I can’t ask…”

  “You didn’t,” Blade interrupts. “We’ve got your back, Mouse. Just like you’ve had ours when we needed you.”

  “Now hold your horses, everyone. There’s just one snag.” Prez tugs on his beard, his eyes, softening now, focus on me. “Need you doing what you do best, Mouse. We need to find the lair. At the moment Devil’s working blind. He’s prepared to share all his info with you. He’s talking to Emir Kadar to sanction Cara to help you.”

  I blink rapidly. From the way Drummer has been speaking, I assumed we’d shortly be in the air on our way to find her. My thoughts of racing to Colombia immediately to start tracking her down start dissipating. We need data. I turn away, and look out over the well-maintained park, barely seeing it. Slowly I unclench my hands. I’ve been wrong to blame Devil. There’s no benefit to him if Mariana has disappeared into thin air. It’s my job now to find her.

  Over my shoulder I say, “Need to get back to the compound, Prez.” My laptop’s not powerful enough for all the searches I want to start. I’ll need to contact Cara. She’s married into the ruling sheikh of Amahad’s family. Her hacking into government systems is curtailed as there could be fallback on that country if it was ever discovered, as shown by her reluctance to hack into the ICE database for me. But Colombia? Surely Emir Kadar would allow that. With Cara’s skill and our combined contacts on the deep web, hopefully we’ll be able to flush The Procurer out.

  As the adrenaline rush starts to fade when my body realises this is no time for action, my brain kicks into gear. My skills are all that can help Mariana now.

  Blade stubs out his cigarette on his boot, then steps to the nearest bin and drops it into it. “We going home or what?” He’s watching my face, giving a slight nod when he sees I’m now more focused.

  “Yeah, we’re going.” Prez slaps me on the back, then we’re walking back to the bikes, mounting up, and riding back to Tucson.

  All the way I push the memory of Mariana riding behind me out of my head, remembering I’d had hopes she’d be returning with me. Instead everything got fucked up, and she’s in the worst place she could be. Hang on, Mariana. I’m coming for you.

  On my return, I grab a plate of food from the kitchen, then go straight into my cave, light a joint then start thinking. How do you find a drug baron, gun running, slave trafficking mastermind in South America? I’d searched his real name before, now I start looking for anything under his handle.

  My phone rings. “Cara. Has…”

  “Devil’s been talking to me. I’ve got the go ahead from Kadar.” She laughs. “He says he owes you one for taking Rais down a peg or two.”

  Yeah, after a bizarre combination of events, Satan’s Devils ended up going to Kadar’s extravagant wedding in the Arab state of Amahad. Flying in a private jet, we got away without passports then too. It still amazes me that we were rubbing shoulders with the world’s politicians, royalty and film stars. There were celebrations for people of all types, and we gravitated to the less civilised desert sheikhs, interested in the tribespeople’s entertainment. I took part in the bareback riding, and to Sheikh Rais’s disgust, came in first, beating his best rider. They hadn’t thought anyone from the US could ride without the support of a western saddle, but they hadn’t reckoned on a Native American. Even in the circumstances, her reminder makes me smile. And if that means her brother-in-law, Kadar, thinks he’s in debt to me, so much the better.

  “I’ve notified my contacts,” Cara continues.

  “That’s great.” Cara’s a world-renowned hacker and moves in circles even I can’t get into. “Thank you, Cara.”

  I hear an intake of breath. “We’ll find her, Mouse.”

  “We will,” I say firmly. I can’t think of the alternative.

  As I end the call, my door opens. “Mouse?”

  I replace my joint in the ashtray. This is going to be a difficult conversation. “I’ve just come back from football practice. Drummer said I should talk to you. Mariana…”

  “Come in, sit down, Drew,” I say wearily. I knew this conversation was coming, yet am completely unprepared for it. Seems that piece of paper I signed so he could have a car has more ramifications now than I ever imagined. I’m not going to abdicate the responsibility I’ve taken on. I’m his guardian in the eyes of the law, and with Mariana out of the country, the only person he has. Instead of keeping the desk between us, I rise, going to the chair next to his.

  Splaying my legs, I place my elbows on my knees, and clasping my hands, rest my chin on them. I try not to let my voice crack, as I begin. “Mariana’s been deported.”

  He’d have known something was wrong when we didn’t bring her back with us. “She can appeal. That can take months, Mouse. I’ve been looking it up…”

  “Drew,” I say firmly, “She didn’t appear in court. It’s not a deportation order we’re
up against. She’s gone, Drew.” Yeah, my voice breaks, even though I wanted to remain strong. “She’s already in Colombia.”

  Suddenly it’s not a fifteen-year-old boy trying to be a man in front of me. His upper lip trembles, his face pales, then he launches himself at me, tears flooding from his eyes. His fists hitting my cut, but without any force to them. My arms go around him as he sobs into my chest.

  “No, Mouse. It’s not true. Mouse, tell me you’re wrong. Tell me, tell me.”

  But I can’t do that. With tears sliding down my own face, all I can do is hold him. My anger of earlier, my resolve to concentrate my efforts on finding her, all slip away as I let another emotion consume me. As my own tears mingle with his, I’m holding onto him as tight as he’s holding me.

  We stay like that for a few minutes. Gradually his sobs start to abate, and my tears stop flowing. When I’m at last able to speak, I make us both a promise. “I’ll bring her home, Drew. I’ll find her, I promise you.” I don’t mention Devil’s involvement, or the danger I might be putting myself and my club in. He doesn’t need to know that. He just needs to know I’ll save his sister, or die trying. She’s under my skin, and in my heart though I couldn’t explain how she got there. This kid in my arms? He’s become important to me too.

  “What’s going to happen to me, Mouse?” Hiccups punctuate his sentence.

  Pushing him away, I hold him at arm’s length, and wait until he raises his face. “I’m your guardian while Mariana’s not here, Drew. You’re staying here. With me. With my brothers. You’re my responsibility now, okay? Not going to abandon you.”

  His head tilts, his watery eyes fix on mine. “Why, Mouse?”

  “Why?” I try a smile; I think it works. “Because not only do I like your sister, I seem to like you too. Even if you can be an asshole at times.”

  His lips curl slightly. A moment passes. Then he frowns. “You are going to find her, aren’t you?”

  “I’m going to find her.” As I confirm it, I’m hoping I’m making a promise I’ll be able to keep.

  I know there are a number of people trying to find this particular needle in a haystack. Cara and I speak frequently, so I know effort isn’t a problem, but getting results is. When Devil shows his face on the compound, I resist the urge to punch him, knowing deep down he wasn’t responsible for her disappearance, but needing someone to blame. But as he outlines the plans in place for when we do have a destination, I know I need to keep him onside. He’s got men on standby, a plane at his disposal. Everything ready for when I’ve done my job.

  But each day when nothing turns up is another disappointment. I resent anything taking me away from my office, even church. Tonight I’m listening as Dollar runs through his mundane update, trying to ignore the laptop in front of me, my fingers twitching to lift the lid and keep searching.

  Viper’s talking about progress at building the mall, Shooter, working with him and Bullet, is apparently showing promise. Paladin confirms there have been no further threats toward Jayden. Blah blah blah. Nothing to distract me from the matter which consumes me.

  “Mouse?” Prez catches my attention. “Progress?”

  I shake my head. If there had been, I would have told him. But I do have something to ask. “Prez. When we know the location, Devil assures me we’re going to move fast.” I wait until he dips his chin in agreement. I pause before continuing, while I don’t like to think about it, I’ve got to face facts. What I’ll be heading into will be dangerous. My voice drops slightly as I make my request. “I’m Drew’s guardian. I want to know someone will be looking out for him if something happens to me.”

  Peg leans forward and looks down the table, his eyes flaring. “You even have to ask, Mouse? How long you been a fuckin’ member?” His head moves side to side. “Kid’s yours, that makes him ours. He’ll have a home here, and all the brothers watchin’ out for him. Nothing can happen to change that.”

  Blade’s knife is pointing at me. “Think all that weed’s gone to your head, Brother. Agree with Peg, wonder why you’d doubt it.”

  I hadn’t wanted to assume. Needed to hear them say it. I sit back, my mind eased. Then at last the meeting’s over, and I can get back to doing what I do best. Seeking out fragments of information and sewing it together.

  Chapter 27

  Mariana

  That first night, as my father had led me to expect, I was collected from my room, and taken to the large dining room for an elaborate dinner. The food was probably excellent, but I couldn’t taste a single morsel, my hand automatically moving my fork to my mouth where I chewed without thinking. I ate the minimum, just enough to keep me alive. I could still have been eating the bland food of the detention centre for all it was exciting my taste buds.

  I was on edge, nervous. Concentrating on trying to stop myself shaking as my father, sitting at the head of a large dining table, introduced the men around me. They were his lieutenants. No other women were in the room. I felt I was invading their masculine environment.

  Nothing was said, no expression sent my way, to make me feel welcome.

  My mind grew no easier over the next few days. I watched, listened and tried to learn. One thing that became obvious, the only females I saw were servants. If any of my father’s men were married, their wives remained out of sight. It made me feel this was less of a family home and more like a garrison.

  Though the lock remained on my bedroom door, I couldn’t say I was badly treated. I’d been taken on a restricted tour of the house and grounds, though some parts were clearly out of bounds. I was provided with books, and there was a television in my room transmitting programmes in Spanish. But although I requested it, I was allowed no access to a phone, computer or tablet. I was unable to contact the outside world.

  As the days pass, I become frustrated, wondering at my role and why my father had me brought here. Apart from the obligatory evening meals, I rarely see him. When I’m sitting amongst his intimidating men, I don’t feel able to question him. I remain in ignorance as to why I’m here, kept captive in a gilded cage. Physically I want for nothing, mentally I remain disturbed and worried.

  What must Drew be thinking? Is he still with Tse? He’s only a year older than I was when our mother disappeared, which makes me recall how I’d felt abandoned, even if she had no choice in the matter. Is that what he’s thinking? How is he coping? I remember the emotions I’d gone through, upset to lose my mom, lost without her, deep concern how I could cope alone with the added responsibility for a nine-year-old boy. I’d been angry too, venting my fury against the system, and I have to admit, against my mother for leaving me, even while it hadn’t been her choice.

  Is Drew angry at me? How’s he dealing with not knowing where I am? He must be crazy with worry. I pray Tse is looking out for him.

  It’s becoming hard to even evoke memories of what life was like before I was incarcerated. Living in that trailer with my brother, not many creature comforts, but we were happy enough, we were family. It’s like it was another lifetime, so long ago. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live my life a free woman. Now I’ve exchanged one prison for another.

  I’ve been here a week when my father sends me a summons. Lieutenant Rojas, who always seems to sit beside me at dinner, comes to collect me. On our way downstairs, he tries to make small talk, but I don’t respond. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to seek out any weak spots, to find a way of escape.

  I can’t return to the US, I’ve accepted that. But although I could continue to live a life of relative luxury here—if I could ignore the locked door—nothing my father has done or said has made me even begin to trust him. The other option, though, that’s equally unattractive. Even if I did escape, I’d be penniless and homeless in a strange country.

  I’ve been expecting to be called to see him. Why bring me here if he doesn’t make time for me at all? Perhaps today I’ll find out what my father wants with me. Whatever it is, I have my suspicions I’m not going to like it.<
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  “Thank you, Miguel.” My father nods at Lieutenant Rojas as he escorts me into the room. Out of all his men, I notice Lieutenant Rojas is the only one he calls by his first name.

  As Miguel leaves the room, my father beckons me over. “Mariana, come sit, please.” He takes a place on the opposite couch, unbuttoning his expensive jacket as he does so. He indicates the ever-present coffee pot; I shake my head. “How are you settling in? Are you comfortable?”

  I raise my eyes to the ceiling then back down, refusing to be cowed by the man who sired me. “As I spend my time locked in my room, which, I admit, is comfortable enough, I haven’t had a chance to settle in. I don’t appreciate being kept like a prisoner.”

  His brows knit together. “This is a compound for my men, Mariana. I admit I’m very possessive of my daughter, particularly as I haven’t been able to feature in your life. The actions I take are to keep you safe. I wouldn’t want you to be taken advantage of. You do not understand our ways.”

  “You have so little control over your men that they would act inappropriately?” I ask, incredulously, scorn dripping from my voice.

  A sharp look toward me. When he speaks, he sounds terse. “You have grown up in the United States. You have picked up their ways. Your manners, the brazen way you address me and my men, may lead to a misunderstanding.”

  “You mean I shouldn’t speak at dinner?” It’s true, questions I’ve asked have gone unanswered.

  “You should try to be polite. In Colombia, we do not place elbows on the table, or eat with our hands.” His head is shaking. “I can’t believe your mother didn’t even show you how to use a knife as well as a fork.”

  I bark a laugh. I’d noticed the strange way they use utensils even to eat fruit, where I just pick an apple up in my hands. “You’re seriously criticising me for that? What do you expect, Father? When I’ve been taken away from everything I’ve ever known? Expect me to know your ways and how you want me to behave?” I shake my head, exasperated.

  He suddenly stands, walks to the fireplace and faces it. His hands are clenched tight at his sides. His whole body seems to be battling with rage. As I watch, his shoulders slowly relax. Turning, he comes back. He now has a smile on his face. It looks fake.