Torn in two

Chapter 19

I knock, maybe a little too aggressively, on Zak's front door.
I was wiping off hot tears, attempting to regain what little composure I was clinging to, when the door opens.
Zak's face is in surprise when he realizes the knocking came from me.
"Hey, are you ok—," he was beginning to ask but I push past him.
"Did you know?" I demand.
"Woah, Nikki, slow down. Know what?" He tries to reach for my hand, but I jerk away.
His face flickers with hurt, but he quickly conceals his expression.
"About Diego?" I snap.
"What? That he's a jackass? I thought you already knew that," he tries to joke.
I just stare at him letting him know I'm being serious.
He looks down at my shoes for some reason and grins.
"Alright, I'll tell you what you want to know. But I'm about to go on my afternoon run. So if you want answers, you'll have to run with me," he starts out the door toward the road.
I'm in no mood to run, however, I follow suit.
I changed into my spare tennis shoes earlier when Cindy and I went to the coffee shop.
I always kept a pair in my car. Otherwise, I would currently be running in my platforms.
However, I was still wearing Zak's oversized black tee shirt and just my bra and panties underneath.
So if a car really wants to be a creep, they would be in for a show if they follow behind me.
I want answers though.
His long, confident strides indicate he runs often. His navy blue polyester shirt fit so snuggly that I was able to see the definition in his back flex with each step he took.
I shouldn't be at his back side though, no matter how attractive he made running seem, I need to be able to talk with him. I attempt to quicken my pace by listening to the thudding of his shoes on the pavement.
Little did Zak know, I too, ran often.
"I already knew Diego was a jackass," feeling my anger slightly dissipating.
"He's been my best friend as long as Cindy's been yours," his voice wavering from his pounding steps.
"He's practically my brother, so I'd do anything for that jackass," he explains between breathing.
"What about Carlos?" Where did he fit into this?
"That's his cousin. So they're a package deal," you could practically here 'unfortunately' afterwards.
"Well I'd do anything for Cindy and protect her from anyone," forcing my words out, breathing heavily.
I needed to figure out if Diego was dangerous for Cindy to continue hanging out with him. I also needed to figure out how to handle Greg.
"So you understand then where my dilemma arises once he made the decision to join a gang," he glances over at me.
Beads of sweat glisten in his jet black waves of hair and drip down the sides of his face. His chiseled jaw clenches as his muscle strain to keep their speed.
"But how does that work with you being a cop?" I breathe out, wondering about their most obvious issue.
"Boundaries. I laid out for him that I can't hear about it and not in my jurisdiction," he grunts.
I decide in that moment I wasn't going to tell him about Greg. Zak was already holding the secret for his best friend and I didn't want to make him responsible of knowing about my brother as well.
If he didn't already know.
I wasn't about to bring it up though.
"I suspected he was when Cindy told me he wasn't allowed in any Cuban owned places at Little Havana's yesterday," I lie about how I knew Diego was in a gang.
"I never said he was the brightest," Zak chuckles, shaking his head.
"Is he dangerous, Zak?" I look up at him, matching his pace.
Even in the bright Miami sun, his eyes appear like caverns that run so deep, undiscovered treasure lay untouched at their core. Only the brave would enter.
And I was foolish enough to begin my exploration without a compass.
"Anyone is dangerous if you let them, Nikki," hinting to me that maybe it wasn't treasure that would be found within those caverns.
I didn't realize we ran in a gigantic circle around the neighboring developments until he abruptly stops infront of his house.
My feet almost tripping over themselves coming to the sudden halt from keeping his rigorous pace.
"I'm impressed," Zak's smiles down at me, his chest heaving and his shirt drenched.
"I run, but not like you," I sputter.
I needed a cold shower and a new shirt because mine was drenched too.
Wearing dark colors during the daytime in Miami was normally not recommended. Today was a scorching July day reaching 98 degrees. He's crazy for planning that run anyways.
"I have to come clean," he opens the front door and the cool air spews from the opening.
The air conditioning feels so good on my overheated skin that I groan.
He hands me a water bottle from the fridge as I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks.
I frantically chug my water, not paying attention to his previous statement.
"I wasn't actually planning on running. You just came in so hot and ready to fight. I wasn't sure whether to dick you down or run you tired," he chuckles, visibly tired himself.
"So you chose the latter?" My mouth agape.
"It worked though," he says while pulling his soaked shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor.
The contour of his abs still glistening with sweat. His chest is complemented by the black ink of an intimidating skull tattoo, with hard lines flowing down his abs and curving up and around his shoulders, complementing all of the right places. He has the word 'invicto' script across the center planes of his stomach. The designs only accent his muscular build.
I realize I was staring and if I hadn't spent the past three days with him, I would have blushed from embarrassment as the smirk spreads across his symmetrical face.
Instead, I pull my shirt off too.