“No,Papí.”
I’m certain only he hears me. We lean back and look at each other. There’s a depth of emotion I feel that would scare me if I felt it toward someone or something else, but it’s love for Pablo, and it’s giving me strength. His hand slides up my back and over my shoulder to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone. This isn’t where we’ll make any declarations.
It’s the wrong time and the wrong place, but we’re silently communicating what’s built between us over the past month and a half. We press our foreheads together one more time before our lips brush. Then he backs away.
“Jorge, take theseñoritato a bedroom. Stay there while I finish.”
Joaquin holds up Stumpy’s hand as Pablo pulls the knife from his pocket and flips it open.
“Pablo, no, please don’t make me go. I want to know…”
His expression changes, and the words die on my lips. It’s not quite as harsh as the one he gave me in Switzerland while we were on the phone with Enrique, but it’s a hint of that. I know now isn’t the time to argue with him, not in front of his men and not when he needs to finish this. Jorge guides me to the room, but I refuse to enter. I keep my voice low, so it doesn’t carry out to the living room and dining room where the rest of the men are.
“I amnotgoing in that bedroom. I have the right to know what happens. I’m the one they took. I’m the one they held hostage. It’s my life they were going to trade.”
“Florencia, Pablo doesn’t want you to see what’s next. It’s why he sent you back here. He sent me, not as your jailer, but because he trusts me to keep you safe. That includes not letting you see what’s going to happen.”
“It’s still my right to know.”
“No, it’s not.”
We stare at one another, neither of us wanting to back down. I’m furious, but I know he’s right. My having a tantrum won’t solve anything, and it’s selfish of me to demand my curiosity come ahead of my safety and Pablo’s wishes for how to handle this situation. I know he wants what’s best for me, and now isn’t the time for me to second guess that.
I relent and dip my chin, but rather than go into the bedroom, I merely agree not to force my way back into the living room. Jorge concedes that. However, he’s so much larger than me—like Pablo—that I can’t see past him with how he angles me inside the doorway. There’s no need for Alejandro to be the second peak of their mountain range.
The living room isn’t visible, but Jorge cocks an eyebrow as if to ask if this is really what I want to do. I can’t observe, but I can still listen to what’s going on. The injured man howls in pain. Part of me wants to slam the bedroom door shut and go curl in the farthest corner, but I refuse to cower. I know I’m safe where I am, and I want to know what happens to these men.
I nod.
“No, no,El Tigre. No more. I can’t take any more.”
“Youcarechimba. That was only one finger I stuck my knife in. You still have three more to go. I’ll dig out every vein and piece of flesh I can before cutting off the skin. I’ll leave just bones sticking out your stumpy little hand unless you answer my questions. Who the fuck ordered this?” Face of a vagina.
“I don’t know. Only Manuel knows the details. The rest of us just follow his orders.”
“If you’re that low on the ladder, what made you think you could touchSeñoritaAguilar?”
“I—OW!”
He howls again. The screams of pain I hear are unlike anything else. I know this isn’t about getting information from the man. This is purely about punishment. Clearly, he didn’t answer fast enough. He should’ve expected Pablo’s question.
“El Tigre, please.Por favor. I can’t take any more.”
“You’ll take as much as I fucking give you. You’ll do it with a goddamn fucking smile if I tell you to.”
I know Pablo rarely takes the Lord’s name in vain, so he must really be on the edge right now, even if his voice doesn’t waver at all.
“I have a temper,El Tigre, and I didn’t control it. I let it get the better of me, and I took it out on theseñorita.”
The man bellows again. I can only assume Pablo jabbed the knife into another finger. The tormented bellows continue, and I hear a hand hitting flesh over and over. It won’t be long before the man bleeds to death. Pablo’s making sure Stumpy knows just how I felt when he struck me. It goes quiet, and I assume Stumpy is unconscious, if not dead.
“Who sent you, Manuel?”
That must beCabrón Uno’sname. There’s no sound but Pablo’s voice now. The silence fills the house for a moment before I hear Manuel’s response.
“Myjefe.”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
