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“One evening, my father took my little sister and my mother to a fancy party in Columbia,” he says, “but when they returned home, the only thing my parents brought back was a bag full of money.”
So that's why he has issues with men abusing young girls—it's because of his sister.
My heart sinks. I have no idea why. I've never felt guilt for anyone before. No one but James and most of all, Maksim, and that's only when he tells me stories of how his parents abused him.
“I looked for Gina, but what I found wasn't her,” Charlie says, focusing on the chocolate. “You know the rest.”
“You chopped off your father’s... you know...”
Side-glancing at me, he nods. “Then I cut out my mother's heart and burnt it.”
I huff in agreement, crossing my arms. “I don't blame you for doing that. If anything, you should have made her death as slow and as painful as you made your father's.”
He snaps his eyebrows together. “It doesn't bother you that I massacred my own parents?”
“No,” I say honestly, confused as to why he'd think it would bother me. “Why would it bother me?”
We're quiet after I say this, the conversation lingering, and Charlie is just looking at me with some strange emotion in his eyes.
I'm glad it wasn't Maksim who ended Charlie's sister, but that doesn't make me feel any better about what I now know. I've never lost anyone before, so I can't comment on what it feels like. I only know what Maksim's told me, and that is simply this: “Loss is like living in a black hole that's too deep to climb out of. Only time can make it smaller.”
“Things are different in Mexico now,” Charlie says, breaking the silence, “none of my men deal in the underage sex trafficking industry—they know I'll cut off their nuts if they do.”
“And what about girls who are of age? Why do you associate with men who force their prostitution?” There, I said it.
Charlie gives me a sympathetic look. “I can't save the world, Blaire-”
My chest aches as he says that, because he sounds like he really wishes he could.
“-As much as I'd like to, I'm still a criminal who has to take care of thousands of freed men, so I have to draw a line between what darkness I will and will not accept. That's just the way it is for people in my line of work. You know that.” He continues talking about his men, how he pays for each of them to have a home, an education for their children, and hobbies for the wives while their husbands are away working. “Sometimes, we're gone for months, so I like to know that everyone back home is happy and looked after.”
“That's really nice of you, Charlie,” I say, getting lost in him. “Do you handle things on your own? Your organization, I mean.”
“No.” He smirks at me, slyness glowing in his eyes. “I've got two brothers.”
I raise my eyebrows, stunned and impressed at once. Imagine that, three of Charlie?
“Nicolas—or Nic, as everyone calls him—and Andres,” he says.
“How old are you all?”
“Andres is twenty-five and Nic is thirty-two.”
I arch a brow at him.
“I'm twenty-eight.”
Twenty-eight... Wow.
I study Charlie's face now. He looks about twenty-eight, though his features are flawless—if you can overlook how wickedly intense and full of wisdom his eyes are, that is.
“What are your brothers like?” I say, blinking at him, still studying how handsome he is. I'm really interested in his brothers. I'm interested about how similar they all are.
A large, devious smile spreads across Charlie's face. “Andres is like me. Nic is an egotistical, smutty bastard, though loyal to the bone.”
“Are they both Los Zetas too?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, looking right at me. “They trained with the military from thirteen, as I did, and were more than ready for the world's war when I took over the Los Zetas.”
