Page 32 of Heartfelt Pain
“Can we go in there?” Isolde asks next, pointing to a bookstore. “I need to get next month’s book.”
Isolde faithfully reads every book club pick. I pick up the correct book only because I follow her into the store.
“Where do you want to go now?” I ask as we exit.
The sky darkens and I know I should go home and get ready for the week. There’s something about walking around the city with your best friend, though. I can’t remember the last time I went shopping. I have a stylist who sends pieces over to me and my groceries get delivered.
An hour later, Isolde walks me back home.
“You want to come up?” I offer.
She pauses right outside my building. “You never want people to come up.”
That is true. My place is embarrassingly messy. But the past few hours, I’ve done the talking. Isolde listened and added her own opinions, but there were no little tangents. She likes to listen to NPR podcasts and usually tells me all sorts of fascinating stories.
It’s like she’s got the Sunday blues. Her hands remain inher hoodie pockets, the bag from the bookstore dangling from her wrist. Her blue eyes studied her shoes while we walked.
“I can offer you three different types of soda.”
My chest loosens when her smile finally reaches her eyes. “Abe won’t like that.”
Abe can suck a dick with his constant nagging about my dietary habits.
“Come on lets go,” I tell her.
Harry, the doorman, opens the door for us. We go up fifteen flights before the elevator doors open.
“It always dark like this?” Isolde asks, peeking out. She does this all the time. She’s got to act like the man, walking closest to the street and making sure I’m safe. I’m honored, but I can take care of myself.
“The light’s burnt out.” I noticed it last night but I am surprised maintenance hasn’t fixed it yet.
One second, I’m pulling my keys out, as I step out of the elevator. And the next I hear the unmistakable click of a safety being drawn back.
CHAPTER 7
Ren
Isolde’s gun holds steady. I don’t know where it came from or when she managed to pull it out. But thank fuck my friend knows how to handle a weapon.
I do too, but that means fuck all when I’m staring at a masked man with a gun.
I’m thinking about how I’m going to explain the shoot-out to my neighbors when hot unbridled anger fills the hallway.
A second figure looms. Tall, and dark. I swear shadows swirl from him. The head of the masked man turns, caught off guard.
“What the fuck?” Isolde shouts at the same time the two bodies crash on the floor.
There’s a tangle. Isolde shoves me back into the wall, angling her body over me.
“This is my house.” I slap her hand away. It’s my job to protect my guests.
The two men—I assume they’re both men—struggle on the floor. The masked figure kicks out, getting enough room to shove his boot against the other man’s chest. With a thud,the man lands and the masked villain takes the opportunity to flee.
“Wait!” Isolde rushes after him.
“I’m coming with you!” I surge after Isolde, who’s running after the man. He dodges into the stairwell.
“No, you’re not.”
