Page 84 of Heartfelt Pain
“Yeah.” Everyone is aware of his love for all things classic cars. I’m just happy I can take a car service every day. And even then, if it weren’t for the high heels I wear every day, I’d probably be fine legging it like most people around the city.
“I think he should open his own shop,” Yelena says. “I think he would enjoy it.”
“And how does he feel about that?”
“Roma always needs time to think about things.”
“All right. What do you think about it? I mean why would you want your son to be a car mechanic of all things?”
Yelena Zimin is trying to convince her son to go into a jobthat requires a lot of manual labor. I’d have never thought it possible.
“Is it not noble, owning your own business? There is this idea that I look down at those who get their hands dirty. But I am a child of a businessman. And a mother. I prefer oil and grease stain my son’s hands than other things such as blood.”
The words are so blunt, but also so wistful and earnest. A mother protecting her child. I take a breath, processing the woman in front of me.
“You ever kill anyone?” The place is crowded and my smile would make most people think I’m joking if they overheard me.
“We all do things to survive,” Yelena replies.
“Don’t we,” I mutter. “You want me to convince Roma to open a car shop or something?”
She must believe I have a lot more sway over Roma than I do. He made it very clear last night that he’s still in control.
“I think he’d appreciate your advice.” It’s as simple as that—she knows we’re somehow still entangled. “Especially as you are a business owner yourself.”
My eyes widen when a mouth-watering cheeseburger and fries are set down in front of me. “This is glorious,” I whisper.
A boring, cold-looking salad is placed in front of Yelena.
“You want a few fries,” I offer, feeling sorry for her. No one should have to eat a salad like that and I don’t know why she ordered it. The woman could stand to put on a few pounds.
“No, thank you.”
I push a few onto her plate anyway. After another thirty minutes of meaningless chitchat after she’s gotten what she wanted—someone to press her son to leave the family business—we leave. It’s when I’m getting up, that I notice she ate the fries I left on her plate.
CHAPTER 19
Ren
Trevino frowns when I give the driver a new address.
“I need to go inside first,” he says when we pull up to the red-brick building. It’s in a pretty neighborhood and for a second with the blue sky and the lack of honking car horns, it’s a picture-perfect day in New York City.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. “Check behind the shower curtain to make sure a killer isn’t lingering around, waiting for me.”
His scowl deepens.
I pick my bag up, tossing it over my shoulder as I step out of the car.
“Thank you, Luis,” I tell the driver, having learned his name after a week of riding around with him. He nods back but quickly stares ahead when Trevino glares at him.
Trevino walks up to the building with me. “I don’t like this.”
“You don’t like anything,” I point out.
“I haven’t done a full perimeter sweep.” His eyes move from side to side. A little old lady with her rolling grocery bag walks down the sidewalk and he hones in on her.
“Okay, seriously?” I elbow his side. Not to be dramatic, but I’m fairly certain his abs could break bones.
