Page 43 of Waste of Worth

“It’s …” Dino stopped whatever he was going to say, knowing it was better if he didn’t refuse her, if only to share something. He didn’t share a lot with Karen, not that she asked him to. It was one of her many wonderful qualities. “Here.”

He passed the notepad over, turning his attention to the television as he dropped his pencil to the coffee table. For a long while, he waited for Karen to say something—anything at all about the image on the paper.

He didn’t need to look at the drawing to know what it was, and he wasn’t quite sure how realistically detailed he had managed to get the image. Honestly, he didn’t really need to, not when his own mind could conjure up the very same moment in time as though he were being shoved back into it.

Blood in his mouth.

Busted lips.

Blackened eyes.

Bruises forming.

Wet pavement.

Dead eyes.

… and a booted foot coming down, readying to connect another violent kick.

He could remember every single vile second of that beating on the night his parents were killed inside their home. And while he couldn’t put the sounds to paper, he could hear his uncle in the background, encouraging the men to continue with their assault. Or his much younger siblings, crying as they were dragged further away from the love and safety he wanted to give to them in a moment that was nothing more than a nightmare.

He hadn’t put the other details into the drawing—ones like the flashing lights of the police cruisers, or the officers standing nearby, their backs turned to hide from the violence happening just behind them.

Finally, Dino heard the soft thump of the notepad being tossed to the coffee table. It was only a second later before Karen was crawling into his lap without a word, her soft hands finding his skin and somehow—some-fucking-how—calming the racing flood of pain and anxiety that coursed through his veins.

“Not insomnia,” she murmured against his neck.

Dino cleared his throat of the thickness building there. “No, it’s definitely not that.”

Her lips pressed to his pulse point, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, wanting to keep her there a bit longer.

Still, she shifted in his embrace, turning to sit with her back flush against his chest. Reaching over, Karen grabbed the notepad and the drawing, resting it on her lap as she stared down at it again.

“It is hauntingly beautiful,” she said, her voice barely breaking a whisper. “It’s awful, you know, but it’s amazing at the same time.”

“I see it more like a nightmare.”

She couldn’t possibly know how true his statement was.

“Why do I have a feeling this is just one of many?” Karen asked.

Dino let his fingers tangle into the waves of her hair, pulling her closer to press a kiss to her temple. “You did think I was a little strange.”

“I never asked why, though.”

“You didn’t really have to.”

THE home of the Outfit boss—Terrance Trentini—was a sprawling estate with two wings, set upon land that was perfectly manicured and always watched. It didn’t seem to matter to Dino if it was his first or fiftieth time visiting the mansion, he managed to feel like a bug under a microscope just standing in the driveway.

The mansion, as looming as it seemed, was lit up on the inside and outside with dancing twinkle lights meant to help celebrate the occasion.

Someone’s birthday, Dino knew.

One of Terrance’s granddaughters, likely.

He didn’t pay that much attention to the occasion when Ben had called with the invitation, though it had been more like a demand. He had brought a generic birthday card with money shoved inside and his signature scrawled across the bottom. It would have to do.

The inside of the mansion, decorated in gold, black, and pink, confirmed Dino’s belief that the celebration had something to do with the Trentini girls. He did the appropriate thing, which meant greeting anyone he saw, as he made his way to the gift table and added his to the hugely growing pile.