Page 52 of Chula
“I don’t really care what you believe, man. I’m telling you I shot that motherfucker who was about to rape my girlfriend. I didn’t touch the other ones,” I repeat what I’ve already said more than once.
“This is bad, Vasquez.”
“Well, that’s what happened. If it’s bad, it’s bad.”
“You’re looking at prison time, you know that, right?” I shrug my shoulders. It was saving her from being raped. I don’t give a fuck how much time they give me. The asshole detective blows out a breath and makes me go over everything again and again. My story never changes, regardless of what he thinks. I’m not going to say I shot the other assholes when I didn’t. That’s their job to figure out and not mine to tell them. I won’t ever snitch on my crew.
I’m eventually tossed into a cell, and that’s where I’m left until a lawyer Damion called shows up and informs me there is no bond for me. Not that I’m surprised, I’m not. I didn’t figure they would be considering I admitted to killing that bastard. The lawyer tells me I’ll more than likely get five or more years for what I did, for saving my fucking girlfriend from being raped. Imagine that shit? The thought of being without her hurts. I don’t want to leave her for that long, and hell, she’ll probably move on by then, and that thought hurts worse than anything.
I sit in this damn cell and contemplate everything that’s happening. This shit, her. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place. Maybe none of this shit would have happened if I didn’t. We’ve killed for each other now.We’ve taken lives and have blood on our hands now. It’s fucked up. I fucked it up.
But prison for five years for keeping her safe? That’s bullshit, and we all know it.
Another man is tossed into the cell with me, and it happens to be one I know. I shake my head and look over at him before he notices it’s me.
“Oh, shit. Marco. What the hell did you do?” Jason asks me.
“Murder.”
“What? That was you who took out those guys?”
“Not all of them, just one.”
“Word on the street is one person took them all out,” he says. I shake my head.
“Don’t give a shit what word on the street is. I got one, that’s it.”
“That’s fucked, Marco. You’re going to go down for all of them?”
“Better not. They’re the police, they need to do their damn jobs,” I tell him.
I sit back against the brick wall and just carry on a conversation with Jason for a bit. He doesn’t really say shit that I don’t already know. Jason has done his time in the pen more than once. He knows people, and I’m going to use that to my advantage. The problem is leaving her, leaving my Chula behind. It’s fucked up. It’s not something I want to do.
I close my eyes and eventually fall asleep until the asshole detectives come back to get me. I’m taken back into another room where the questioning goes on and on. I tell the same story even though my lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut until he’s here. I don’t really give a shit if he’s here or not. I just want this shit over and done with. I want whatever’s going to happen to happen. The longer I sit here, the more I think, and the more I think, the more I know I’m going to lose Luna.
Chapter 23
Luna
No bond. That’s all we kept hearing. No bond. How the hell is there no bond when he saved my ass? He saved me from being raped and probably killed. I know Rafe would have killed me. That’s what he was there to do. If the others from Raven’s Crew didn’t show up when they did, I wouldn’t be here, and neither would Marco.
But I didn’t run when he told me to, and that fact is weighing heavily on me. He wouldn’t be locked up if it weren’t for me. If I had just fucking run.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re clenching your fists,” Damion tells me. I look down to see that my knuckles are white. I slowly unclench them and look over as tears fill my eyes once more. I’ve cried so damn much tonight that I barely have tears left.
“He told me to run, Damion. I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“After it all happened. He told me we had to go, we had to run, and I didn’t, I couldn’t.”
“Don’t you do that shit, Luna. Don’t blame yourself.”
“It is my fault, though. If I had run when he told me to, he wouldn’t be in jail. They wouldn’t even know we were there,”I remind him. Damion shakes his head and pours two drinks, sliding me one. I grab it and take it down, hoping it numbs the pain and the ache in my chest. My face hurts, my head aches, but nothing hurts more than my chest. Missing Marco, knowing what I know about how long he could be put in prison, is killing me.
I shove the glass back to Damion, and he refills it before motioning to the living room. I grab my glass and we move to the couch.
“The lawyer is good,” he tells me.
