“YOU DON’T WANT to do this.” Tony Montoya took a step forward, despite the gun pointing at his chest. His own weapon remained tucked in his holster. In eight years on the San Antonio police force, he’d only drawn it a handful of times.
The hand holding the gun shook, but the teen refused to lower the weapon. “Yes.” The boy’s chin lifted in defiance. “I do.”
Adolfo wouldn’t pull the trigger. He wasn’t a bad kid; he was just trying to survive. Tony understood. How many times had he stolen food from a convenience store when he was a kid? But Adolfo wasn’t trying to steal food for his family. The gun in the teenager’s hand was evidence of that.
“What are you going to gain?” Tony took another step toward him. “You think if you bring Raul money you’ll get moved from a peewee to a soldier?”
The boy’s dark eyes widened at the mention of that name. “You don’t know nothing, man.”
“I know you ain’t married yet.” Tony nodded at the boy’s right arm, bare of the bandanna marking him as a full-fledged member of the street gang.
A band tightened around his chest. Raul’s gang suffered more deaths than any other in the area. If he failed Adolfo, how long would it be before the boy paid the ultimate price? Would a rival gang member end his life or would it be someone in his own unit? A heaviness settled over Tony’s heart.
He’d seen too many young men ruined by the lure of gang life. Those losses far outweighed the people he’d managed to help leave the streets behind. Most of the boys, like Adolfo, weren’t tempted by the money, drugs and women. It was family. A place to belong. Over half of them were on their own. Deserted by mothers too strung out on drugs to care where their children were anymore, or too stressed out trying to earn enough money to keep a roof over their heads. Whatever the reason, the result was the same.
Tony had one chance to talk Adolfo down. He had to remind the kid that he had a real family, a family that depended on him. Keeping his voice low, Tony said, “Raul will still have you jumped. How you gonna explain that to your madre?”
The boy’s eyes flashed and Tony knew he’d struck a nerve. “How can you help her take care of your baby brother if you’re dead or in jail? Your mama needs you.”
“Leave my mama out of this.” The gun shook even more, and Adolfo’s eyes darted around the store.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tony spied the store clerk moving to the edge of the counter. He held a hand up to stop him. Mr. Chan kept a .22 rifle under the counter. Please don’t pull that gun out. Not now. It might push the kid right over the edge.
Adolfo noticed, too. “Put your hands up where I can see them!”
“If I have to put my hands up, how am I supposed to get your money?” The old man looked bored. He’d experienced more than his share of robbery attempts.
Tension hung like a cloud of smoke as Adolfo and the clerk stared each other down. For the first time, Tony stepped away from Adolfo, putting himself between the boy and the old man.
“Move.” Adolfo jerked the gun.
“No.”
“Move. Or I’ll shoot you.” Adolfo waved the weapon again. His voice held a note of panic.
Tony remained in place. If he moved, Adolfo would see it as a victory and that would empower him even more. Tony looked the kid in the eye. “I’m not afraid to die. I know exactly where I’m going. But what about you? Where are you going when you leave this store? You got no place to go.”
“I’ll go to the club.”
“No, you’ll go to jail, if you’re lucky.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Try me.” Tony knew the kid’s life because it had once been his, too. “Your pop skipped out on you. Your mom works all day, so all you got is the streets. You’re being challenged, mijo, and you’re about to fail in the worst possible way.”
Adolfo’s shaking hands told Tony he still had a chance. If the shaking stopped, it would mean the boy had found his resolve and was lost. Tony edged farther between the counter and the waving gun. “Step up, bro. You’re the man of the house now. Go home and take care of your brother. You want him to join a gang, too?”
“Shut up! You don’t know nothin’ about me.” His voice cracked.
“I’ve known you for three years, mijo. I know your brother will follow you, and one of you will end up in a body bag.” Tony’s voice was hard now. “Maybe not right away, but you will.”
“You’re the one who’s gonna be in a body bag!”
“Go ahead.” Tony stepped forward now. His gun was within easy reach, but there was no way he’d pull it. He needed Adolfo’s trust. “I told you, I’m not afraid to die. Not if my death will get you away from Raul.”
“Stay back.” Adolfo’s voice was barely a whisper.
“The way I see it, you have two choices.” Electricity swirled in the air between them. “One, you shoot me. You go to jail for manslaughter. It will break your mama’s heart, but maybe it’ll scare your brother enough to stay away from gangs. Two, you put down that gun and you come with me to the St. Paul’s Mission and learn how a real man takes care of his family. I don’t care either way, because in the end, you and your brother will be safe.”
He paused, giving Adolfo time to think.