Page 109 of Mouse Trapped

I raise my mouth a fraction. “Shut it, Blade.” Then in a stage whisper, “He’s jealous, ignore him.” Spurred by his reaction, I put down what I was holding, put both arms around her, and kiss the hell out of my old lady. When we finally come up for air, I give him a pointed look.

Her lips are swollen; she looks flustered and adorable. My assault seems to have made her forget why she wanted me. Instead, she looks around and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Target practice,” Blade replies. As if to demonstrate, he picks up a knife and throws it at the target in front of us, frowning when he misses the cardboard man’s heart.

I step forwards, taking a throwing knife, and aiming it. Grinning when I’m closer than he is.

“Can I have a go?” Mariana looks intrigued.

“You ever play darts?” Blade asks.

She shakes her head. No, she’s probably never had much fun in her life.

I hand her a knife, and show her how to hold it, demonstrating the action she requires. Blade’s eyes widen, then he pointedly comes to stand behind us. “You want to throw it that way.” He points toward the target.

“She’ll be fine,” I respond, expecting I’ll have to go retrieve the weapon from the undergrowth, but hey, I’m learning I’ll do anything for my wife.

Biting her lip in concentration, Mariana steps up. She pulls back her arm just like I showed her, then lets that knife fly… It lands right in the middle of the heart.

“Beginner’s luck,” Blade growls, and hands her another.

Fuck me. She’s done it again.

Blade and I exchange glances. “Here.” I pass her a third. It knocks both her previous blades out.

“I’ll be fucked,” Blade exclaims.

It does rather put a damper on our practice time. She might be my wife, and I’m proud as fuck of her, but I’m a man after all. Blade and I make a few gestures, both agreeing we’ll resume another day when it’s just the two of us. Neither liking to be outdone by a woman.

That Blade was impressed is confirmed later that night, when there in the clubhouse he makes a show of presenting Mariana with one of his favourite knives. Her look of pleasure at the recognition of her abilities makes her glow. My chin raise sends him my thanks; he shrugs them off.

“What’s the matter?” The day after she’d shown me and Blade up with her knife throwing skills, I walk into our suite, sliding out of my cut. Mariana’s sitting on the bed with the new phone I’d bought for her in her hands.

“That was Carissa. I’ve got a hearing date.”

She clearly needs me. I go to her, pulling her into my arms. I don’t say platitudes or tell her everything will be fine. Nor do I tell her that I’ve been preparing for the worst, having already told Drummer, if she’s deported, I’ll be going with her. So I just hold her, letting her draw strength from me.

Over the next couple of weeks, I make sure she knows how much I love her, nights spent proving it to her in bed. Around us life goes on as usual, but I know she feels like the Sword of Damocles is hanging over her head.

“How’s Mariana holdin’ up?”

I pause a moment before answering the prez sitting at the head of the table. We’ve just gone through the normal church business. Lowering the lid of my laptop, I at last respond. “Much as you’d expect. We’re both preparing for the worst, hoping for the best.”

“No one in their right minds would send her back to Colombia,” Beef protests. “We all know what’s waiting for her there.”

It’s a who, not a what, but I don’t correct him. “We expect ICE to come down pretty hard on her. She’s back in the US, entered illegally again. That will count against her.”

“Her skin’s not the right colour for them,” Marvel sneers.

I nod, it’s strange, though her colouring is actually similar to mine.

“People are all riled up about illegal immigrants, expect them only to come here to commit crimes. From what I’ve seen of your ol’ lady, most of them are like her. Afraid to put a foot out of line in case they’re deported.”

“Stats show unless they join a gang, and join’s the wrong word, forced into them more like, they’re more law abiding than folks who were born here.” I nod at Rock as I answer him.

“Yeah, because citizens know the worst that can happen is jail time. Not being sent back to whatever shithole they came from,” Shooter sneers.

Drummer lets Rock, Shooter and Marvel all have their say, eventually bringing it to a close. “Anything we can do, Mouse?”