Chapter 6 #2
We stayed in Colombia for three years after my dad’s murder, then it got too bad.
We moved to the States to keep my mother, brothers, and me safe.
But by then, the damage was already done.
I hate crowds, and I hate being the center of attention.
Therapy helps, but it’s never gotten rid of all the flashbacks.
“Let me know if you need anything, manito.” Little brother.
I know Joaquin means more than just intel.
“I will. I’m going to get some work done while I wait for her to head home.”
“Te quiero.”
We speak at the same time before hanging up.
I can appreciate Liesel’s usually a homebody because so am I, but she and Bastian are fucking boring to stake out.
They take turns cooking, which I can see most of until one of them closes the blinds when it gets dark.
I can see the TV flicker, and sometimes Liesel’s office light is on.
Their lights go off at ten, practically on the dot.
The bedroom lights flick on for ten minutes while they get ready for bed.
I hate thinking about what happens after that.
It’s the same routine every night except for Wednesday when they seem to have their date night and twice when Bastian was on call at the hospital.
Those were the nights she went out. Three long nights outside their apartment made me confident they stay in until Liesel leaves at six for her run with her sister.
They vary their routes, but they stick to three places.
I head back to my hotel at eleven, and I’m back in Liesel’s neighborhood by five-thirty.
I’ve been at this for two weeks. I’m definitely a bona fide stalker at this point. This isn’t just about observing a potential threat to my family’s business. This is about a smoking hot woman I want to bang. I’m jerking off too often to pretend I don’t want her.
I haven’t let her see me again since the two times in the park.
I can tell she senses I’m nearby, though.
She might think it’s the man who threatened her, or maybe she’s guessed it’s me.
Either way, she looks over her shoulder more each day.
She’s taking a company car everywhere, so she’s never alone.
Considering the note the guy dropped on her lap in the park, I’m glad she’s with someone when she’s out and at home. Bastian’s hint of cauliflower ear tells me he wrestled or played rugby. It reassures me he can defend her. It’s the only thing he has going for him.
I hate thinking I scare her, but it’s a necessary evil to protect her and my family—and indulge my fantasy.
I’m a sick and twisted fuck.
All I can say in my defense is I’ve never stalked a woman before. I’ve followed men around and terrorized them when they’ve crossed my family. But I’ve never been a woman’s shadow before.
First time for everything.
It’s not just her looks. I’m still listening to her office.
If I weren’t learning anything, I would’ve headed home already.
Her father’s poked around her office three times.
From the way she mutters the next morning, she’s aware.
I find Alex, the junior assistant or whatever he is, the most problematic.
He snoops for the sake of snooping. As best I can tell from the bugs I planted in his apartment and on his phone, he isn’t selling the information.
He sleeps like the dead, so I didn’t just put mics and cameras in his place like I did the entire Schlossberg & Sons office, I got to his cell phone too.
Johan’s clean as a fucking whistle. He’s as boring as Bastian. I had a couple of my guards follow him a few times. They reported he’s tried to find out from some friends at other brokerages if we went with them, but beyond that, he minds his own business. My kind of guy.
Sounds hypocritical, but what the fuck Schlossberg & Sons does is now my business after they fucked us over.
I know it was Gunter, but the douche who’s called Liesel is pushing her harder to get us back on board.
She’s still standing her ground against him while I drag out the negotiations.
I’ve glimpsed no one else surveilling her, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t found other ways to track her. I can’t get to her phone to be certain.
I have boundaries even I won’t cross, so I haven’t been inside her home. Maybe the carechimba—face of a vagina—doesn’t have those limits. Maybe he’s seeing things I’m not. I don’t want to see her in bed with Bastian. Sick fucker if he is.
“Hola, Tío.”
I can’t ignore Tío Enrique when he calls, even though it means I have to turn down the feed from Liesel’s office.
“Hola, sobrino. ?Algo nuevo?” Hello, nephew. Anything new?
“Nada.” Nothing.
I can’t lie because I’ll have nothing to show. I know what’s coming as we continue the conversation in Spanish.
“Any reason for you to stay?”
“I still haven’t figured out if Anneliese or someone else is working for a rival.”
I catch myself with my tío. Maybe my brothers have told him my pet name, but I’ve been careful not to let it slip.
“You can keep monitoring her office from home. You don’t need to remain in Frankfurt for that. Drop a tracker on her car and the ones in their company fleet. Come home.”
Grrrrrrrr.
“And if something comes of the guy who dropped the note in her lap? I have the Atlantic between us before I can do anything to him.” For her.
“We have people in Frankfurt who can keep an eye on her. You’ve been gone nearly a month, Jorge.”
“Lo sé.” I know.
I nearly snap at my tío, but I mutter it instead. That’s not much better. I sound petulant rather than pissed. Neither will fool him.
“There’s something about her, isn’t there?”
Fuck my life.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Your mamá says she has a boyfriend.”
Fucking-a.
“She does. It’s not like I’ve asked her out.”
“No. You’re just stalking her.”
Fucking hell.
“Monitoring the situation.”
“Sure, sobrino.”
“Are you ordering me home?”
I screw up my nose. Not the right choice of words or tone.
Fuck me.
“Do I need to?” Tío Enrique’s tone isn’t quite ice, but an arctic blast is about to blow through.
“My intuition says there’s still something to learn here.”
There’s a long pause. My tío never pauses to think something over. He’s likely ten steps ahead of me already. He pauses to make you want to shit yourself.
My phone pings, and I know I have another call coming in. I recognize the number.
“Tío, Anneliese is calling. I have to go.”
“Está bien.” All right.
I don’t wait for him to say more before I click over.
“He—”
“Jorge, help!”