Torn in two

Chapter 18

"What? Like the Cartel?" My eyes bulge in disbelief.
He only nods.
I was aware Papá ran with the Mexican Cartel during the Miami Drug War in the 80s. Papá swore he was out of the business once Greg and I were born. He told us that lifestyle wasn't respectful to our Mamá or suitable to raise babies in.
Growing up, he made both of us promise we would never get involved either. I always thought it was such a ridiculous promise.
Why would I ever willingly join a group of criminals?
Maybe he was forced.
Maybe so was Greg.
"Why? Why Cindy's house though?" I whisper.
Is think in this very moment, the attack on Cindy hurt me more than knowing he was in a gang.
She was our family long before they were.
My mouth was dry with cotton mouth and my cheeks prickle as if I were just slapped across the face.
More like verbally slapped.
"To scare her," he answers meekly.
I wait in silence making it obvious I was waiting for more.
What the hell kind of response was that?
"I arranged for Cindy's house to get broken into because she's dating a member and I wanted to scare her away. But also to let Diego know I am serious. I don't want to see you guys anywhere near those members," his eyes wary.
As if he was wanting to tell me something more, but ultimately deciding against it.
Hearing him say Diego's name solidified the outlandish occupations I kept trying to guess he was in.
And I was scared for Cindy.
She was sleeping with the enemy.
Someone who could potentially put her in danger.
Did Zak not know?
How could he even let a gang member in his house? He was a fucking cop for Christ sakes.
I had to see him. Today.
"How could you do that to her? I could have helped you. There could still be another way out of this gang," I plead.
"It's too late now, Nikki. I owe them not only money, but also my services to repay their loan I took. Without their resources, I wouldn't of had such a successful opening weekend," he adamantly explains.
He had no remorse.
God, I couldn't even look at him right now.
"How did you even find them?" I genuinely wonder. 
Actually, it probably wasn't that hard. Miami was known for their gang relations.
"After Papá died," he pauses and takes a breath, "I was cleaning out his office and I pieced together some of the information I came across," he admits, peeking at me from below his brows.
"How could you do this to Papá. He made us promise," I mutter icily.
As I storm towards the front door, I could hear Greg's plea.
"Nikki, stop, please," he sounds like he's going to cry.
He's never cried.
And I slam the door behind me.