Page 100 of Cartel Rose (Jorge)

Liesel spots me immediately and dashes to me. Finally, she’s in my arms again, but I have to let go far too soon.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Liesel

As much as I want to know what happened, I don’t. Jorge’s back in one piece, and short of my father coming home, that’s what matters most. I peer over his shoulder as Joaquin and Alejandro come through the front door. All three men have wet hair, and Jorge smells like he just stepped out of the shower.

After seeing amputated body parts, I force my mind away from why they needed to clean up before coming back here. As long as he isn’t hurt, I know deep in my heart that I don’t care what he and his family did. I don’t care who they might have hurt or what laws they broke.

I just don’t give a shit.

If you asked me even a week ago, I doubt I could rationalize what I am now. But my father wasn’t missing, and I didn’t fear death around each corner. Whatever Jorge has to do to survive and to bring my dad home is fine with my conscience.

I suppose that makes me a horrible person. I suppose it makes me amoral.

I have no fucks to give.

The Liesel who existed before meeting Jorge doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not his fault. It’s whoever targeted my family. I’d already changed when I accepted being part of a money laundering ring and taking orders from an anonymous syndicate. My father’s kidnapping and torture just sealed the deal.

I’m stronger for being with Jorge. The weight of the world’s still threatening to crush me, but at least I’m shouldering it with a backbone of steel. He’s helping me see I’m more resilient than I imagined. I’m not weak anymore, and I’m not giving in to these faceless fuckers.

I don’t have a bad boy or violence fetish, but knowing Jorge is an apex predator of sorts is hot. He’s more than a Rottweiler. He’s lion; a king of the jungle. Without a doubt, I know I’ll always feel protected and safe with him. Even when we’re not eyeballs deep in the shit, he’ll make me feel cherished and valued. I can’t explain my certainty, but it’s there unlike in previous relationships.

“Did Hisham go out?”

Jorge’s question pulls me back to the present as he lets go of me and looks around, spotting my family. We tried to doze in the living room while the guys have been gone. None of us could face going upstairs to sleep. Neither my mom nor I wanted to be alone, and neither Heidi nor Friedrich wanted to leave us alone.

“Yes. He and Noor did nearly two hours ago. He said they had something they needed to see to.”

Jorge just nods. I think he knows where our hosts went. I already know better than to ask.

“They’re wrapping up some stuff for us.”

That as much as I’m going to get. They reassured us that they had extra guards posted around the house and the neighborhood. I wish we were in gated community like at thesafehouse. But I trust Hisham and Noor despite barely knowing them.

What choice do I have if I want any peace of mind while Jorge’s gone?

“Let’s join the others,chiquita.”

I nod—begrudgingly.

“What happened? Did you learn anything? Do you know where he is yet?”

My mom clamps her mouth shut before she full-on peppers them with questions, but we all want to know the answers. I shift my gaze from Jorge to his relatives. I already know we’ll get a fraction of what happened, but I pray they can give us something.

“Gretel, we’ve ruled a few things out. But we don’t know where he is yet.”

“You were gone for hours though.” Heidi’s fighting tears of disappointment as she speaks.

“I know it’s not fair to ask for your blind faith while giving you so little information, but we need you to trust that we’re making progress. It’s not safe to tell you more than that.”

“Were you doing something illegal?” My mom’s whisper is barely loud enough for any of us to hear us.

All three Diaz men stare at her. I’m already far too familiar with that expression. The resignation that settles on my mom’s face tells me she knows the answer, but she makes no protests. I shift my focus to my sister. She’s darting her gaze back and forth among them before she looks up at Friedrich.

He’s the same kind of stoic that describesOnkelClyde. He pulls Heidi closer to him; both arms are already wrapped around him. She buries her face against his chest, and her shoulders rise and fall. She silently cries. I hate thinking it, but it’s better than her asking questions the men won’t answer.

We’ve all settled in seats in the living room. Joaquin leans forward in his chair, his forearms resting on his thighs.