Malo: An Age Gap Romance

“You did?” Rook asks. “You heard something?”

“Border patrol stopped a van carrying a bunch of young women about a week ago,” he explains. “Coming in from Mexico. They reached out to me, let me know what was going on. I had a feeling it was Las Rosas Negras, but if we have proof that they’re operating out of the city again, then it’s almost certainly them.”

I curse to myself. They’re trafficking? Those fucking bastards. And women, too—I know what that means, I’m not naïve. I know what those girls would have been used for, all too clearly, we all do. Another reason we need to take them down, give them not an inch of leeway to try and get away with all of this.

Rook frowns at me as he clocks the look on my face.

“You okay, Malo?” he wonders aloud.

I get to my feet quickly. “Just need some fresh air,” I mutter, and I stride back out to my bike once more where I keep a small stash of cigarettes for times like these—times when I need to stop my mind from spiraling down the dark paths I’ve tried my best to leave behind me.

I can’t stop thinking about those girls in that van. I know exactly how it must have felt for them, because I was nearly stuck in the same mess myself. Did Maria go through the same shit? The thought twists in my guts.

Sometimes, it really hits home just how close I came to falling into the same trap. Back when I was a little boy, I’d ended up in the back of one of those vans. I could still smell the gasoline, the burning rubber on the road beneath me—something screaming at the back of my mind, warning me over and over again that there was something wrong, that I needed to get out of there before it was too late.

I was an orphan, an easy target for the bastards who wanted to exploit me for my labor, or whatever else they had in mind. They grabbed me off the street while I was playing with my friends, told me they had something to for me. I was so young, so hungry for anything close to a human connection and care from an adult, I went along with it, too stupid and reckless to think there might have been anything else to it.

I take a deep drag on my cigarette, the heat of it burning at the back of my throat. Standing in the back of the van, looking around, seeing everyone around me, and knowing what was going to happen to us if I didn’t get out of there, it’s burned into my brain. I can’t forget it. That knowledge, deep down inside of me, that I needed to get out of there, or I was going to be stuck forever.

When the van pulled over at the side of the road for a brief stop, I scrambled over anyone on my way, and rushed outside. I couldn’t stay there, I just couldn’t. I should have done more to bring the others with me, but I was so young, I hardly had time to think about that; I just wanted to leave. Wanted to put as much space between myself and that place as I could, before I was dragged into something I couldn’t escape.

I made it out of the van, and into the near-blinding sunlight beyond, its heat beating down on my skin, my body flooded with panic as I glanced around and tried to figure out what to do. The place I called home in the distance, shimmering in the heat. I could hear voices calling after me, telling me to come back, to turn around, that I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going.

I ignored them all, and started to sprint, my legs aching underneath me as I rushed back toward the city, no idea what I was going to do when I got there, but knowing, deep down inside, that there wasn’t a chance in hell I would let them take me. What they would do to me when they got me where they planned to take me. I couldn’t bear the thought of it.

They must have decided I wasn’t worth the hassle of chasing down, because they didn’t bother to send anyone after me. I was just a kid, after all, and likely not worth letting the rest of the group escape for. I had made it back to the city, back to my friends, back to the same spot on the street corner I slept on most nights, the threadbare blanket I pulled over myself to cover my body right where I had left it.

Later I heard, through the grapevine, what had happened to the people who’d been taken. They had been shipped to America, smuggled across the border, where they were being used for God only knows what now. There were whispers about what they were used for, but I ignored them, too guilty for walking away to let myself consider what I might have been pulled into.

Las Rosas Negras involved in human trafficking? I knew they were into some dark shit, but this was far and way beyond what I had been prepared for. Maybe this is, at last, my chance to make amends for leaving those innocent people in that van when I was a kid. I doubted there was much more I could have done to get them free, but that didn’t mean I didn’t hate myself for running when I could have stood my ground and fought.

I draw one last time on the cigarette, and then stomp it beneath my boot and head back inside. I can’t let them see how much this grates on me, I just can’t. I won’t be allowed to help if they think I’m too involved, and that’s the last thing I need. This is my chance to make things right, and I’m not going to let it slip through my fingers.

Inside, Rook eyes me for a moment, as though he can tell something has thrown me off my game.

“You good?” he asks, and I nod, not making eye contact with him. “You sure?”

“Si, con un carajo. Yes,” I shoot back, voice terse and sharper than it needs to be. “What else do you know about what Las Rosas have been involved in?”

Rebel catches me up on all the information they have so far. It’s not a whole lot to go on, but it’s something, and we need to collate everything we have if we’re going to figure out just how they’re running this business of theirs. My mind burns with anger as I take it all in, but I try not to let the rage get in the way of what matters here.

These fuckers, they’re the lowest of the low. They were our enemies before, but now, it goes beyond that. It’s way more serious, and I know I can’t let them get away with this. I don’t even want to think how much chaos, trauma, and suffering they’ve caused over the course of this twisted little side-hustle of theirs, of just how many people have been pulled away from their families and shoved into the worst situations imaginable just so El Serpiente can make himself another quick buck.

“So, what’s the next move?” I ask Rebel, once he’s done. They exchange a look, as though they’re silently communicating how obvious it is that there’s something going on with me. I ignore them. I’m not going to let them get to me. They don’t know what I’ve been through, at least not all of it, and if they did, they would understand why this is so important to me.

I’m going to burn these motherfuckers to the ground. Scorched earth. Nothing left. And I’m not going to stop until El Serpiente and his men have paid for everything they’ve done.

CHAPTER 12

MARIA

Irun my hands through my hair, trying to convince myself I didn’t make a mistake by coming here, not that I had much choice.

I’m safe here, that’s what I have to remind myself. No matter how hard it might be to believe it, these guys have offered me a sanctuary, away from Rayo and the rest of the Rosas men. I have to stop panicking, looking over my shoulder and thinking something terrible is going to happen to me every moment of every day.

It’s been two days since I got here, and I have spent most of that time sequestered up in my room, hiding out from everything that’s going on out in the club. Aside from a few trips down to the kitchen to get some food, I figure it’s better to keep myself, at least for the time being.

But I’m starting to get restless, and I know how bad it is for me to have time alone with my thoughts. They always end up drifting back to my father, to everything that’s going on with him, and I know I can’t let all of that get to me. I need to stay focused, not sit around feeling sorry for myself and what’s happening with my family.