Page 85 of Miguel

“We have to get everyone out of the compound!”

“Come on!”

I squeezed Desi’s hand in a gesture of reassurance as we were guided out of the fray. We emerged from the smoke, and the trek across the yard felt like miles instead of minutes. Somewhere in the distance, dogs barked, and I looked around, wondering if another bomb would be set off. Wondering if Miguel had been anywhere near the blast.

My knees buckled at the thought, but I steeled my spine and kept pushing forward. I couldn’t think about that right then. Not when I had Zeke in my arms and my best friend at my side. I couldn’t think about what the consequences of this would bring. I couldn’t think about my fear when I had two people depending on me keeping it together right then.

Later.

Later I could break down, but right now I focused on following the hermanos who guided us out.

The looming front gate finally came into view. It was pushed open, bodies rushing out, coughing, taking in breaths of whatever fresh air their lungs could get.

We were out finally, and yet I still couldn’t sag in relief. Not with the panic still thick around us. Not when I was witnessing mothers crying out for their children, frantically searching for them. Not when I saw a woman I’d only met hours before try to rush back into the compound as she cried out for her Viejo. A prospect held her back and she fought him, clawing at his hands and nails.

I felt for her, because inside, I had the urge to do the same.

But I stayed rooted where I was, head turning left and right, as if I could see the monster who’d thrown the bombs in the first place. But at a quick glance, I saw there were several club members prowling the perimeter, shouting and securing the area.

I swallowed past the tightness in my throat, searching the sea of faces for the one I wanted to see. In my arms, Zeke cried, and Desiree held tightly to my hand, too afraid to let go. I shifted on my feet, tightening my grip on Zeke. He lifted his head, his sudden cries almost as loud as the explosion had been. His head swiveled and his legs thrashed in a way that had me dropping my grip from Desi.

He pointed and I whirled in time to see Miguel stomping towards us. His face was dirty with soot, a stormy, murderous expression that melted into relief at the sight of us. My own breath whooshed from my lungs. Other than blood dripping from his temple, he looked otherwise unharmed.

My body threatened to collapse as he made it towards us, but I held myself upright and threw myself into his arms. He wrapped them around Zeke and I, his son in between us.

He took in a shuddering breath, his hand clamping on the back of my head to bring our foreheads together.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Every word was an expel of relief that I echoed down to my core. He pulled away a fraction, his eyes searching mine. In them, there was nothing but gratitude. Relief. Love. “I’m so sorry, nena,” he whispered. “Te lo prometo.” He closed his eyes. Vehemence stained every word, and it was enough to send a shiver of trepidation down my spine. “I promise that this willneverhappen again.”

There’d been no deaths.

A small blessing, I supposed. But there had been injuries, among them some of the new friends I’d made. Like Xiomara, the beautiful woman with sharp eyeliner and expressive eyes. Her back had been badly burned due to the explosion, but the doctors claimed she would be okay.

We’d been lucky in comparison, though it didn’t quite feel that way.

Not when I’d woken up with a jolt that first night, a dream on the hazes of my sleepy mind of a bomb detonating at Zeke’s feet.

I’d sat up in bed, my heart pounding against my chest, the sensation making my throat hurt like I was drowning in smoke all over again.

Miguel would get up, staring at me like he hadn’t been asleep at all. His brow furrowed as he took in my fearful stance. He would reach for me and I’d pull away. The brief flash of hurt in his eyes would make me feel guilty, but I couldn’t deal with touch or his comfort.

I needed to take a breath.

So I’d get out of bed only to find Desi curled up on our couch with her eyes open as she stared at a wall.

She sat up when she saw me, patting the seat next to her, which I gladly took.

“That was crazy,” she signed, her movements slow and tired.

I nodded my agreement.

I’d never been through anything remotely like that. The scariest thing I’d ever lived through were earthquakes and the slight eruption of Popocatépetl, not that the volcano’s rage had ever been any cause for concern before, especially when the eruptions were very mild. But that’s as exciting as my life got.

I didn’t live through shootouts and bombs. That wasn’t my life.

Miguel had said it wouldn’tbemy life. That things were calm.

Thatwas not calm.

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