Page 32 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

“Bennie isn’t the help.” There’s an implication that I should know better. “The guy’s well-respected and people know he’s an extension of you. Nobody’s going to screw him and nobody’s going to screw you.”

My face must show my disbelief.

“Cliff screwed you,” Trevino says. I’m sure being best friends with Mulligan means he knows most of the story. “But Ben’s shown up day in and day out and helped you.”

“But he has his own law firm. I never asked him to take on more meetings because it felt rude to pile on to his to-do.”

“He’s offering to help you more,” he points out. “Look, you’ve got two options. You can stay afloat or you can scale up.”

He knows me. I’m ambitious. I want my business to rake in money and build a bigger portfolio. I want people to know they can rely on me.

“If you can scale up, it’s not just about Ben,” Trevino says. “You’ll need help. Someone to take on more meetings, to help smooth tension, to pick up the phone and listen to disgruntled triggermen.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find help?”

It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before.

I’ve stuck it out on my own for so long because the job is a hard one to fill. You need someone entuned to the life. And sure, it’s surprisingly easy to find someone like that in this city. But I need someone who can sit with an Italian underboss and cut a contract with the Irish Mob.

Part of doing my job is knowing all kinds of nasty shit and knowing when to hang onto it and when to parcel it out. I need someone I can get along with after a twelve-hour day. Someone who I don’t have to baby. There’s not a whole lot of time to train someone in this line of work.

“I need someone who I not only trust to take a bullet for me,” I say, “but also one who my clients don’t want to kill.”

That’s another big thing. No one blinked when I shot Cliff because it turned out nobody liked the motherfucker. They were loyal to Aunt Macy. I need someone who the entire criminal elite likes and trusts.

“You got any recommendations?” I don’t mean for it to come out so peevishly but he barely blinks .

In fact, all he does is nod. “Yeah. Your friend.”

“You mean Isolde?”

He never goes out of his way to call her by name.

“You think Isolde could do it?”

It comes out disbelieving. Isolde is so thoroughly a triggerman in my mind. A gun for hire who’s damn good at her job.

“You just said it. You need to trust the person enough to take a bullet for you and you need someone respected and well-liked by the community.”

He runs a hand over his buzzed hair again. “People like her. Your friend.”

“Isolde,” I prompt.

He doesn’t repeat the name. “She’s a good shot. She doesn’t run her mouth. Doesn’t treat people like they’re trash, though, everyone knows she’s rolling in contracts. Honestly, people would like to see her move into something else. Free up a lot more opportunities for the other guns for hire.”

I consider everything he says. Isolde already hangs out with me at Fujimori’s. People are used to seeing her. Jane and Abe’s dad like her. Ben wouldn’t have any issues bringing her on board.

“I don’t know if she would do it.” She’s never talked about anything but taking on contracts for hits.

Trevino shrugs. “All you can do is ask.”

“Would you ever come to her?” I ask, nosily. “To take on hits if you were looking for contracts?”

He’s never come to me for work.

“I’ve got my own business,” he reminds.

I hum under my breath. I kind of like the image of Trevino coming into Fujimori’s and hanging out. Also, it’s interesting seeing him interact with Isolde.

“Would you like my critical feedback now?” I ask .

He digs his phone out of his pocket while shooting me an I’d rather not look.

The phone presses to his ear. He doesn’t bother to speak until a moment goes by and he says, “Okay.” Then he ends the call.

While I admire how movie worthy the moment is I’d like for him to hurry up with the fucking theatrics.

“We found the guy with the gun right outside your apartment,” he says.

My butt slides on the hard metal chair as I straighten. “Wait, seriously?”

I knew he’d started to look into it, but shit, he’s worth every dollar if he pulled in the information that fast.

His fingers wrap around his phone and while he remains calm there’s the tiniest wrinkle between his eyebrows. If he’s nervous, I’m nervous.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “You weren’t the target.”

My face twists, confusion marring my face. “What? But he was outside of my apartment.”

Blurred, dark images whirl through my mind of the quick altercation. We got off the elevator. The safety clicked.

“I might’ve spoken too soon.” Trevino stands up. “About no one wanting to kill your friend.”

I lurch out of the chair. “Isolde? Wait, are you sure it wasn’t Roma?”

Taking out Lev’s son is fucking risky but if you’ve got a point to prove it’s certainly an option.

“Who’s more likely to be hanging out at your apartment?” Trevino asks. “Your ex-boyfriend or your best friend?”

“Why?” I blurt. “Who?”

“Don’t know.”

“They weren’t trained.” I know it for certain. “He didn’t notice Roma who ended up tackling the guy. Unless Isolde pissed off a teenager lately, I’m not really sure what’s going on?”

“There’s a hit out.”

A dry puff of laughter leaves me. Trevino remains grim.

“You’re serious? Someone hired a gun to kill Isolde?” Everything he says hits me. My heart lurches as things crash into me all at once. “I know all the hired guns in this city!”

Triggermen come to me for work. So who the fuck hired him?