Page 131 of His Wounded Heart

“Sweet,” Renzo says. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not right now.”

“Mama, can we have ice cream for dessert?”

“I already have something else planned.”

“Okay. I guess that’ll be okay.”

The men laugh at her over-the-top sigh of despondency.

After Bella’s bath, I put her to bed, then I go back out to the living room. I look at the pillows and blankets folded at the end of the couch and they kind of piss me off. I haven’t argued with Simon since he told me how he feels about us sleeping together with Bella in the house. It is gallant, but annoying. Renzo offers to sleep on the couch. I think he should since he’s shorter, but Simon says he will since he’s already used to it.

I pull out my laptop and sit cross-legged on the couch and start getting some work done on the dentist’s website. His is one of the most complicated that I’ve ever worked on. He has a lot of locations, and each one has a different specialization. Plus, each of the different dentists from each location have been emailing me their requests and updates.

I look over at Simon. He’s at the dining room table with still a mountain of mail that I’ve offered to go through for him, but he says he can take care of it himself. There is definitely something going on, as to why he isn’t opening it. The man has a passive-aggressive relationship with his mail.

Renzo is so silent and still I wouldn’t even know he is in the recliner in the corner except I see him touch the screen of his e-reader out of the corner of my eye every so often. He’s been glued to his e-reader for hours. I finally can’t stand it.

“What book are you reading?” I ask him.

“How Difficult It Is To Be a God. It’s about the revolutionary war in Peru.”

“When was that?” I ask.

“In the eighties and nineties. My dad was killed in it, and so were three of his brothers. I had always heard my grandmother’s side of things, even though I was pretty young to comprehend it. I was looking around and saw this book and it seems pretty unbiased. I thought it would be good for me to read.”

“So Drakos is a Peruvian last name?”

Renzo laughed. “No, it’s Greek. I was adopted by the Drakos’ when I was six or seven. When some of the other kids were being adopted by them and getting their names changed, I wanted my name changed too.”

I must have looked confused because Renzo explained further. “My grandmother raised me until I was three or four, who knows. She died and I was put into an orphanage. I hated it there. Never enough to eat, and you were hit by the jailers with sticks. I was one of the lucky ones who spent a few years in a better situation and knew better, so when some older boys said they were breaking out, I got them to take me with them.”

“When we ended up living in abandoned buildings, I was happy. It was better than the orphanage. I learned how to steal; I was usually the one who would be the decoy since I was the youngest. I would keep the mark busy talking while one of the older boys would try to pickpocket, or just out and out steal some lady’s purse. One time I didn’t get away. The man was pissed. But the woman was worried about me. Said I was too skinny.”

“That was Sharon Drakos. Her husband was a construction project manager, and he worked on big projects like dams, bridges, and airports all over the world. Their family would stay in a country for a year or two. According to her husband, my adopted dad, for every place they stayed, he ended up with at least one more kid. I was their Peruvian kid.”

My eyes must be twice their normal size. I look over at Simon. He’s not looking at his computer; he’s as riveted by Renzo’s story as I am.

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I ask.

“I was one of the older kids, so when I lived with them, there were thirteen of us. By the time I moved out, Sharon was bringing more in. They have fostered and adopted a total of seventeen children. You should see the family group texts.”

I adore his smile. You can see how much he loves his family. Which makes it strange that Simon had to go make him call his mother.

“I’m going to stretch my legs. I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes or so.”

“You covered?” Simon asks.

“Yeah, got what I need with me,” Renzo answered.

I don’t ask, I don’t want to know.

Chapter Thirty-Three

My phone buzzes with an incoming text from Renzo, forty-five minutes after he takes patrol.

Not good.