Page 45 of Heartfelt Pain
Ren: Sorry, I’m busy.
I attach the picture. It’s completely innocent. Trevino’s on the couch, I’m on the floor. We look ridiculous in our matching sheet masks.
I’m sure Roma will find it amusing.
CHAPTER 10
Roma
It’s been two days since my fingers were inside Ren’s cunt. Two days of thinking about her chest leaning into mine. About the way she took me by the shoulders and forced me closer.
Two days of fucking pain because every time I think about it my cock hardens. Two days ago, she left me desperate and high. She slammed the car door in my face.
But I wasn’t left desolate. Something sparked between us in that cab and she texted me back on Sunday. Flirty, silly texts.
Maybe I should be ashamed of coming in my pants like I did last night.
I walked out through the lobby, my pants wet and uncomfortable. But I did exactly as she asked because Ren owns my fucking soul. I understand that clearly.
But what I don’t understand is the fucking photo she sends me.
She’s in her living room. I can tell by how messy it is and because of the couch. And on that couch is another man. He sits there, in jeans and a T-shirt. Some stupid sheet mask on his face which does nothing to hide his muscles.
Why the fuck does Ren have someone over?
My hand wraps around the phone tight, squeezing. In a blur, the phone pounds into the ground. I don’t hear a sound or take in the chipped pieces scattered on the ground where I suddenly find myself.
“Kid. Hey, kid.” I shake my head not understanding. Uncle Dima comes into view and places a hand on my shoulder. “I need to ask you something.”
I don’t know when he got to my place or how he opened the door to the garage. It doesn’t matter. He’s here now, worry swimming in his dark eyes as he crouches beside me and asks, “Have you killed anyone lately?”
It takes over an hour to get to my dad’s house. The place is dark in the night, but when I enter through the garage it’s not hard to find him.
He’s making a sandwich. A small TV in the corner plays a baseball game. He takes a look at me and then glances over my shoulder. Uncle Dima silently follows behind.
“You thought I turned into a serial killer?” I ask.
Dad continues to spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread. I’m surprised Mom lets the stuff inside the house.
“Can you blame me?” he calmly asks. Much too calm. I’m vibrating while Dima pulls his cap further over his eyes.
“I’m not a serial killer!”
Dad adds tomato to his sandwich. “Five men, Roma. With one very obvious connection.”
“You and Dima”—I fling a hand in his direction—“seriously thought I killed five men.”
Dad places his sandwich together and cuts it into diagonals. Good lord, how is this man one of the bratva’s most feared?
“That’s why you sent Uncle Dima to check in on me. You seriously thought I’d been off killing people.”
Dad takes a bite. “In all fairness, he also meant to check in on you, make sure you know, you didn’t end up one of the victims.”
“How do you even know about the men?” Dima only gave me the basics. Five of Ren’s ex-boyfriends have turned up.
“Ren called,” he admits, his face blank as he focuses on his food.
It’s not enough to fool me. “Ren called. She actually called you. Why would she call you?”
