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His leer lit something in my gut.

Not fear this time, either.

Fucking fury.

These men were so fucking predictable.

I hated using my taser. The thing took forever to recharge and the smell of burning metal was hell to get out of my clothes. So I tried to avoid using it, but I was about to make an exception for him.

He’d more than earned it.

I reached into my pocket again. “Look, motherfuck?—”

A deep voice cut me off. “Why are you out here, doll?”

The man currently accosting me was as surprised as I was at the new voice. We both turned toward the voice like we’d been pulled by the same string.

I knew him.

Enzo Moretti.

The first time I’d met him, he’d been barging into my apartment like he owned the place. He’d given some excuse about checking me out for his cousin Nico. I’d been determined not to mention him to Hope. She’d had enough to deal with as it was.

Of course Enzo the asshole had grabbed the phone out of my hand to talk to Hope anyway.

I’d been so annoyed that it was only after I’d finally gotten Enzo out of my place that it had struck me how familiar he’d seemed. I’d blown the feeling off and put Enzo out of my mind.

Until Hope and Nico’s wedding.

Luckily, he hadn’t paid me a second of attention. Not that he’d had the time. From the heavy pats on his shoulders, to the flirtatious whispers from every woman in attendance, Enzo had been the bell of the ball. Hope had been grateful for him taking at least some of the spotlight.

I’d thought he was a douchebag—and way too handsome for his own good.

Or mine.

Again, I shrugged it off. Sure, Enzo seemed familiar, but if I’d met one conceited jerk-off, I’d met them all. I’d keep the peace for Hope, and leave it at that. Whatever pesky feelings Enzo stirred were my secrets.

Easy enough, except for times like now, when I was confronted by the man in the flesh—and the attraction he stirred with no effort at all.

I sighed, confronted with a reality I couldn’t ignore. My would-be mugger annoyed me, but Enzo, the way I reacted to him, scared the fuck out of me.

“Enzo,” the robber said.

“Fabiano,” he responded.

Of course these two knew each other.

Hope had never said a word about what Nico did, but she didn’t need to.

Nico was connected. And so was Enzo.

That was clear to me and the closest I’d ever been to the mafia were those true-crime shows.

“You’re far from home,” Fabiano said. “Straying into Genovese territory.”

Territory.

Yeah, I was definitely out of my league.