Defending Raven (Mountain Mercenaries #7)(7)

He gave her another small nod.

“I bet they’re hungry, too, huh?”

He nodded again.

“Right, so come on, take this bread before someone else comes along and decides to take it for himself.”

With that, the boy moved so fast, Mags almost didn’t see him. One second she was holding the bread out, and the next it was under his shirt and he was backing away from her once more. She couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Advice . . . get here a little earlier on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and you’ll have the trash can all to yourself and you can get a lot more. I’m here on Tuesdays and Thursdays and sometimes the weekends. We’ll share the bounty. Okay?”

She knew the boy didn’t have to agree with her, but he nodded again anyway, then turned and ran out of the alley.

Sighing, Mags stood. The boy’s brown hair had been messy, and his face was covered in dirt, like many of the people who lived in the barrios, and she couldn’t help but imagine what he might’ve looked like a few years ago. Before he’d lost his innocence completely. Before life in the barrios had changed him.

She didn’t have to think too hard; she easily guessed what he may have looked like. How the excitement of a new day might’ve shone in his eyes, how he probably took great pleasure in the smallest things.

But children had to grow up quickly in the barrios, and it was heart wrenching and sad.

Knowing she couldn’t linger, lest others came by and simply took by force the bread she and her friends so badly needed, Mags took a deep breath and headed back the way she had come.

By the time she got back to the barrio, the sun was up. People were out and about, and while she knew most of them, the locals tended to keep to themselves. Mostly out of self-preservation.

When she turned a corner to head to the hut she shared with the others, Mags froze.

Teresa, Gabriella, Bonita, Carmen, and Maria were all standing outside, with Ruben and Marcus watching over them.

Cursing under her breath, Mags hurried toward them.

She wasn’t exactly scared of Ruben’s gang, but she wasn’t an idiot either. She’d seen them take down two of the Americans quite easily, and if they could do that to them, they could seriously hurt or kill her and her friends.

“What’s going on?” she asked with as much bravado as she could muster.

“Thanks for breakfast!” Marcus exclaimed as he tried to wrench the plastic bag out of her hand.

Mags held on, refusing to let go. But Ruben walked over and, calmly and without hesitation, hit her in the face.

Her head went flying backward, and she fell onto her tailbone in the dirt.

“What we want, we take,” Ruben snarled. “You want to keep living here, you gotta pay your dues.”

Mags held a hand to her face and stayed on the ground, glaring up at him. God, she hated this place. Hated everything about it.

Fortuno, Eberto, and Alfonso walked out of the women’s hut carrying a pot Carmen had found the other day, a large jug of water that one of the women had probably just lugged back, and two plastic bags full of other odds and ends the women had worked hard to scavenge.

“Looks like you girls have been holding out on us,” Eberto sneered. “We’re not too happy. If I were you, I’d do what I can to make it up to us. Gabriella, how ’bout it? I’m sure spending a little one-on-one time with Ruben would go a long way toward softening him up. Maybe he’d even let you keep some of the things you’ve so painstakingly collected. Your place is looking a bit sparse.”

Mags bit her tongue to keep herself from telling Eberto what an asshole he was, and declaring Ruben wouldn’t put a finger on Gabriella as long as she was alive and kicking. It was no secret the leader of the group of punks wanted the younger woman.

Maria helped Mags stand up, and they all glared at the laughing men as they sauntered down the alley toward their next target.

“Are you all right?” Bonita asked.

“Let me see,” Carmen ordered, pulling at the hand Mags used to cover her cheek.

“I’m fine,” Mags told them. “It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. Come on, let’s go see what the damage is.”

They all filed inside the hut, and Mags wanted to rage at the destruction that met her gaze.

Alfonso and the others had thrown everything everywhere. The pallets they slept on had been sliced with knives, likely to make sure they hadn’t hidden anything valuable inside the thin material. They’d left the things that were already broken and not worth taking, like a few cracked mugs and plates and some tattered clothing.

It had been a while since their hut had been searched and plundered, but Mags was tired of it. So fucking tired.

And now they were all hungry as well. All she wanted to do was sit in the dirt and cry.

Life wasn’t fair. But she didn’t have the time or energy to sit around and wallow. If they were going to eat, they had to get to work.

Mags had a second to be grateful the “ambulance” they used—actually, a bicycle with a small trailer attached—was hidden in a nearby alley, disguised among the trash that had built up and never been removed by the city officials. Marcus and the others would surely have stolen that from them as well.

“I’ll take the bicycle and head to the dump,” Mags informed her friends. “See what I can scavenge.”