Page 12 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

Ren

W e head only a couple miles away from Fujimori’s but it’s in the one direction I never wander around in.

Isolde’s strides are steady so there’s nothing to do but follow, though, she refuses to answer questions. Which is fine because after ten minutes of walking something else catches my attention.

“Len, what is on your hand?”

She stops struggling with brushing hair out of her eyes and tucks her hand in her pocket. “Nothing.”

“Len!” I almost trip in my stilettos when I twirl in front of her and grab her arm. A giant fucking diamond is on her finger.

She takes her hand back. “It’s not what you think.”

“Right. Not all diamond rings are engagement rings.”

“Exactly,” she replies.

“Len!” I gasp again.

“It’s not real,” she says. “At least not yet.”

“What does that mean?” Isolde asks .

“It means one day I woke up and Elijah had placed a ring on my finger.” She waves her hand in the air. I’m blinded by the dazzle.

“That’s much too tame for Elijah,” I note.

“He said he knew I needed time to get used to things. Which he’s kind of right.”

“You’re an overthinker, but you love Elijah,” I say.

“I do,” she agrees, a soft blush flushing her cheeks. “He said he’d take me to the chapel any time of the week. I think he has an entire plan just waiting. I’m pretty sure if I called him right now and said let’s get married this very second he’d already have the Plaza booked.”

She’s probably not wrong. Elijah likes his dramatics and when he marries Len, he’ll want the entire world to know it. Plus, if there’s anyone who can pull off a surprise wedding at the Plaza, it’s totally him.

“Do you want to elope?” I ask knowing how shy she is.

“Yes,” she admits. “But it’s not fair because I know how much it means to Elijah.”

“Elijah can get over it. All he wants is you and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.” I catch her hand again. “Do you want to get married soon?”

“Yes and no. Elijah is mine, but it’s barely been a full year since we’ve been together. And there’s a lot going on right now.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“You know. Milo,” she refers to her nephew, “and Ads. I don’t want this big thing to take over.”

“You should totally let it take over,” I tell her. “Milo will look fucking adorable in whatever wedding outfit Lia and Nat and Peter put him in and Ads is fine.”

Len shoots me a look.

“Your sister’s happy for you. I know you’re worried about her, but I can’t imagine her doing anything to dampen the day.”

As far as I know, Adeline never talks about killing Leopold. It’s everyone else around her, acting strange.

“You should elope and go travel,” Isolde says from where she walks slightly in front of us.

We’ve now made it to a more industrial part of town. Mid-size brick warehouses form neat little rows. I suspect several of them are empty, due to the lack of workers. It might be closing time, but there’s a hushed nature over the area.

Lennie pulls her coat tighter to her, realizing it too. “Where are we going exactly?”

We stop in front of a door, the blue paint looking fresh.

Isolde beats on the door. Nothing.

“Is someone expecting you?” Len asks after another round of beating.

“Open up, Trevino!” Isolde gruffly shouts.

My mouth drops open. “You can’t be serious.”

Lennie’s head swivels between us. “Trevino?”

“You took us to meet up with the Ghost?” I ask. Isolde is still banging on the door.

Lennie gasps. “The Ghost!”

I glance around, taking in the details of the neighborhood. Normally, I’d be excited to meet up with the Ghost. I’ve never met him in person, but Isolde’s acting funny.

“Trevino!” she shouts.

Lennie steps closer to me, keeping her voice low. “Um, the Ghost?”

I rub my temple. “She’s the one who figured out who he is. You know that.”

But the details are lacking. Isolde came back one day with the name and number of the man. Information like that would be worth her weight in gold. We decided, after Marissa, it’d be best to diffuse some tension in the city. I handed the information over to Lev Zimin.

There’s been peace because, after Marissa’s death, the Ghost went quiet.

“I don’t think he’s expecting us,” I tell Isolde a minute later. I turn right as the fucking door heaves open.

Lennie sucks in a breath and my curiosity piques as I face the doorway again.

Holy shit.

No wonder Isolde blushed when we asked her what the Ghost looked like. Len’s teased her ever since then about her crush, but I do not fucking blame her.

A tall man leans against the door. There’s not a downright scowl on his face, but grumpy would be a good description.

It doesn’t take away from his handsome face, his square jaw, and high cheekbones. Dark hair is shaved short. He’s lithe but muscular, a black shirt hugging his chest. Music plays in the background.

His dark eyes narrow on Isolde.

Isolde nods in greeting. “Hey.”

He’s put out by the one word.

“I’m guessing you didn’t make an appointment?” I whisper to Isolde.

She hasn’t broken eye contact with the man in front of her once. “Can we come in?”

A sigh breaks from his chest. This is a real hardship for him.

But he pulls back from the door, allowing us space to move. He frowns, though, when Len steps through the door.

“She’s with us,” Isolde tells him.

“I turned off my phone.” Len pulls it out to show. “Elijah’s not tracking me.”

I’m slightly concerned that she understood the Ghost’s apprehension so quickly. Plus, “What if something happened?”

The Ghost shuts the door, the locks clicking heavily.

“She’s right,” he agrees, in a dark, gruff voice. “That’s not smart.”

“I’m with Ren Callahan and Isolde Mattheson,” she boldly declares. “I’d love to see you try to pull some type of shit.”

I bite back a laugh. She’s like a little pixie fairy, with her bright eyes and amusement. A stark contrast to the hulking, sulking Ghost.

He pushes through our small trio, trudging ahead in what looks like an empty mechanic shop.

There’s a black SUV parked, but the place is rather sparse. Other than a work table full of guns that he must’ve been cleaning, the room is empty.

“What are you doing here?” he asks Isolde, casting another hard look at her.

“I wanna hire you,” she says.

Lennie and I exchange a look. We’re equal parts intrigued and concerned.

“You finally here to admit I’m a better shot?” He straightens slightly. There’s a playful hint to his words. I wonder if this is who he’d be if we were at a bar on a Friday night.

“You can’t admit something that’s not true.” The Ghost stills when Isolde steps closer to inspect the weapons on the table. “You wanted to open that new business, right? You got any customers yet?”

The Ghost sets down a Glock. I don’t think he’s happy, but he considers Isolde’s words.

“Come on,” she tempts him. “You know if this works out you’d have testimonials coming from Ren Callahan herself.”

I straighten at my name. “What? ”

“We’ll go with the platinum package,” Isolde says.

“The what package?” I ask.

“What has she done that she needs to be moved to a safe house?” he asks.

“Safe house?” I echo. “I’m not going to a safe house.”

He raises a brow at Isolde.

“Someone’s messing around with her,” Isolde explains. “Five dead boyfriends and a masked man at her door last night.”

“No one fucks with Fujimori’s,” he says like I’m an extension of said restaurant.

“Yeah, but they’re certainly trying to fuck with her. You in or not?”

“Not!” I interrupt, stepping forward so they actually acknowledge my presence. “What the fuck, Isolde.”

“She’s refusing to leave her place,” she tells the Ghost.

“If she’s not going to a safe house how the fuck do you want me to protect her?” he asks.

“Wait, are you a bodyguard?” Lennie exclaims.

“What happened to being a mercenary?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wanted to start my own business.”

“So what you’re offering protection services for the underworld?”

“Something like that,” he says, picking up a stray bullet and tossing it in the air. He catches it easily.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” I tell them both. Lennie coughs.

“If you’re not going to leave your apartment than you’re getting a bodyguard,” Isolde replies.

I cross my arms. “I’m not having some person I don’t even know in my apartment!”

“What’s your name?” Lennie asks.

A look of wariness passes over his face. He’s still not gotten over the fact she’s attached to the Zimin’s. “Tristan Trevino. ”

“Like Tristan and Isolde!”

“Isn’t that a movie?” I ask.

“Medieval literature, bitch,” she replies.

Whatever that means. My arms remain crossed. “I don’t need a bodyguard, but slip me your business card and I’ll put the word out.”

“So you can invoice me for a finder’s fee?” he snorts.

My back goes up. I’m worth every penny I charge. “Can’t help but notice you’re not booking much.”

“I’ve just started,” he defends.

“What happened to the mask?” Lennie asks, looking around like she might find the purple neon mask he’s known for wearing.

“Ben and I talked about it. You’re getting security,” Isolde says.

“You and Ben talked about it?” Where the fuck was I during this conversation? “You and Ben just think I’m going to have a random stranger living with me?”

Trevino is still salty. “Maybe I don’t want to take you on as a client.”

“I’d be a good fucking client to have.” If I wanted it.

“I think you should do it.”

I gap at Lennie.

She shrugs. “There’s a killer on the loose and he’s hot. It sounds like the making of a great book.”

“Life isn’t a romance book, Len!”

She smiles sweetly. “You won’t have a life if you’re dead.”

“Dating Elijah’s made you into a real monster,” I huff.

“You wanted me to up my security when Leopold came around.” She doesn’t struggle to say his name, but I hate that she’s even thinking about him.

“I get it,” Isolde says. “You think changing your schedule or moving out of your house makes you look weak. This is the compromise, Callahan. You work with Tris”—he frowns at the nickname—“or you come up with a schedule that sees us rotating shifts.”

“Rotating shifts?”