Page 30 of Enzo (Redcars #1)

THIRTY

Enzo

Rio’s hand landed on my shoulder, dragging me from the edges of a dream I didn’t want to leave. In the dream, I was holding Robbie—warm, safe, completely wrapped around him as if he were the only thing tethering me to this earth. Loving him felt floaty, effortless, like breathing.

But Rio’s face above me was tense, and that snapped me straight back to reality.

I untangled myself from Robbie’s arms slowly, careful not to wake him. He murmured something soft and turned over, pressing his face into my pillow. I climbed out of bed, bare as the day I was born, and scrambled for clothes—underwear, jeans, a clean, anonymous T-shirt from the folded pile.

As I was about to leave the room, Robbie’s voice, thick with sleep, tugged me back. “Enzo?”

I circled around to his side of the bed. He blinked up at me, squinting against the soft morning light.

“Morning, sunshine,” I murmured.

“What time is it?”

I glanced at my watch. “Six.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “Why’re you getting out of bed?”

“Need to go pick up some parts with Rio.”

“What parts?”

“A ‘68 Firebird water pump and some seals.”

“I don’t have that purchase order.”

“I’ll make sure to leave it on your desk.”

“‘kay,” he hummed, already drifting again.

“Jamie’s downstairs,” I leaned in, kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips. “Go back to sleep. Love you.”

“Love you,” Robbie whispered back, already halfway to dreaming again. His breathing slowed, deepened.

When I got downstairs, Jamie was sitting in his usual spot, a baseball bat hanging loosely between his knees. “Enzo,” he acknowledged.

“We got a line on where Vinnie might be,” Rio said, his voice low.

“Logan isn’t here, I’m going into lockdown once you’ve left,” Jamie kept things to the point, and I threw him a nod in thanks. As soon as we were outside and climbing into Rio’s beaten-up truck, he glanced at me sideways, engine still rumbling under our boots.

“Message from a friend, Vinnie was at the old warehouse strip six blocks down.”

Fuck. If Vinnie was that close, it meant trouble wasn’t coming—it was already here.

“What ‘friend’?.”

Rio shrugged, and I wasn’t pushing for answers. I didn’t care if it meant we got to talk to Vinnie and find out what he wanted and more importantly, who for.

The wind rushed in through the cracked window. I sat there thinking about Robbie asleep in my bed, breathing easy. Safe. For now.

We reached the area—an abandoned textile warehouse at the edge of the district, paint peeling from corrugated metal walls, weeds clawing through the cracked concrete. Windows were either boarded-up or smeared with grime, and graffiti twisted like scars across the back wall. It smelled like old oil, piss, and garbage.

We parked out of sight and circled to the rear, where the loading dock sagged from rust. Rio jerked his chin, signaling we’d split—him left, me right.

I crept toward the back entrance, my footsteps soft, my eyes sweeping for movement. As I reached the door, it creaked open, and a man stepped out. He was built like a fridge and just as expressive, easily recognized—Goon Number One, Mateo’s man.

“Boss wants to see you,” he said, voice low and flat.

He stepped aside.

I hesitated for a second before slipping past him. I heard Rio shift directions behind me, adjusting course to fall in step.

Inside, it was dim. The place stank of mildew and rot, shafts of sunlight struggling through the grimy windows to land in dusty pools across the concrete floor.

Goon Number Two stood in the shadows, weapon drawn but angled toward the floor, eyes sharp and narrow. He gave us a once-over and an up-nod.

We stepped into the main room, and my breath caught.

Vinnie was tied to a chair—head slumped, face a mess of blood and bruises. Mateo stood behind him, gripping either side of the chair.

“Took you long enough,” Mateo said, staring right at me.

“I’m here now.”

Vinnie stared at Rio. “What the fuck you doing here?” he said, voice thin and brittle, like a man who hadn’t slept and knew he wouldn’t again anytime soon. There was something slippery behind his eyes, the way he looked from me to Rio and back again, calculating. “You owe me Rio. Get me out of here.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Rio snarled.

“Why do you want Robbie?” I asked, keeping my voice level. The only thing I let show was the threat simmering beneath it.

“Robbie? I don’t know a fucking Robbie, I want that guy in your garage, Roman?” Vinnie said, and then that twisted grin broke across his face, blood caught on his teeth. He spat into the dust and laughed. “You don’t even know what you’ve got there. He’s sitting on fucking millions, man. More money than you’ll ever see.” He was bolder then, as if even tied to a chair he was in a position to negotiate. “I told Mateo—we could split it. Be smart about it.” My gaze flicked to Mateo who raised an eyebrow at me. “You think I wanna hurt this Roman kid? Nah, man. He’s gold for all of us.”

“And how do we get this money?” Mateo asked, and I stiffened. I’d brought Rio in here and put him in the way of guns, and now Mateo was trying to make a deal with Vinnie?

“Hand the kid over and it’s straight in our accounts boss,” he said, with utter confidence.

“How much?” Mateo asked, and I took a step toward him, but he subtly indicated I stay where I was with a shake of his hand.

“Five hundred k at least.”

“Thought the bounty on the kid was a million.”

Vinnie blinked up at Mateo. “Yeah, yeah, I was gonna take my cut, but fuck it, you can have it all. I was doing it for the SC boss.”

Mateo hummed thoughtfully. “You were? How can I trust you?”

He turned his attention to Rio, “Tell Mateo I’m okay, Rio. That he can trust me.”

“Fuck you,” was all Rio had to offer.

Mateo’s hands tightened on the chair; jaw clenched so hard I could hear it creak. Then he softened his tone, as if he had all the time in the world. “What was the plan, Vinnie? Once you got Roman?”

“An exchange, this guy wants him, and I get a cut—we get a cut. I wasn’t keeping any of it, not really.” Seemed to me as if Vinnie was getting his story jumbled up. “We was all gonna be rich as fuck.”

“So, you were gonna sell Robbie off,” I said, my voice dropping. “Leave him with the animals who nearly killed him and walk away.”

“I don’t give a shit what happened to him, it’s money baby, I was doing it for the SC.” He was posturing now, but there was a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

Mateo leaned down close, his voice a quiet threat “Don’t pretend you did anything out of loyalty to SC.”

Vinnie’s grin faltered.

“Who wants him?” I asked and moved so I was standing really close to the sniveling piece of shit who wanted to hurt Robbie.

“I tell you that, and you kill me,” he smiled, as if it was all a joke.

“You tell me, and I might let you live,” I lied.

Vinnie flinched. That toothy bravado was already slipping. “This guy called John Mitchell, it was a job put out, and I found the kid, didn’t I?” He craned his neck to find Mateo who’d moved back into the shadows. “And I came straight to you, Boss.”

“That’s not entirely true, is it, Vinnie?” Mateo said, “Word is that you offered a cut to a shit-ton of others as well. Amiright?”

He shook his head. “It was always you, Boss. I was working for the SC, I was gonna let you have the money. I wasn’t even gonna take a cut.” Vinnie cast a frightened glance between us and Mateo, then at Goons One and Two, who’d stepped out into the light as well. It was clear he was lying. “I can make a deal, right? Get my phone. You’ll see who wanted the kid… I don’t have nothing to hide, and then when I get out of here, I can be the best for you. A real soldier in your ranks.”

Mateo nodded at Goon One, who fetched over a sparkling new phone, pressed a button, and then held it to Vinnie’s face. It unlocked, and Goon One scrolled through whatever was on there, then passed the phone to Mateo. He read the screen, and his expression went from focused to furious in an instant.

“The Devils Drift!” he snapped and yanked at Vinnie’s long greasy hair. “You were offering a cut to those fuckers?”

“No! Boss! I was gonna double-cross them, yeah, I had it all worked out. The kid will get us millions and we get one up on them.”

The Drift. Biker gang, mostly. Loud, loyal, brutal. They stuck to the periphery back in the day—ran guns through the industrial zone, handled enforcement work no one else would touch. I’d crossed paths with a few inside. Hard-eyed men with no loyalty but to the patch on their backs. Getting involved with them meant all bets were off. They didn’t negotiate. They burned things to the ground and rode through the ashes. If they knew about Robbie, if they had any idea where to find him, then we were fucking gone, leaving LA now.

“This Mitchell, right, he’s got a line on all these kids,” Vinnie said, smarmy, as if he could persuade Mateo to let him go with this big deal he had. “I mean, it’s not really trafficking when he keeps the kids, yeah?” What kind of fucked- up logic was he trying to use to get out of this one? “But they’re big currency, Boss, fresh meat, and this one, this whore, Roman, he knows too much, and they want him back, and?—”

Mateo punched Vinnie square on the mouth. The sound was wet and sharp. Vinnie’s head snapped back, blood spraying the floor. Mateo followed with two more brutal punches, landing them with surgical precision. Vinnie reeled, his body sagging in the chair, eyelids fluttering as if he were slipping under.

“Fucking traffickers! Fucking Drift MC. You fucking brainless moron,” Mateo spat, knuckles dripping.

I didn’t breathe. The air in the room was heavy, thick with sweat, piss, and the iron tang of blood. My heart hammered, but my face stayed blank. I couldn’t afford to show what I was feeling—couldn’t let anyone see how hard I was gripping the edge of my restraint.

“Mateo?” I asked, voice low, even.

Mateo didn’t respond right away. He stared at Vinnie as if he were already dead. There was nothing in his eyes. Not rage. Not sorrow. Just… nothing. Like he’d emptied himself out to make space for the kill.

“He’s not walking out of here,” Mateo said, calm as a whisper. “He’s garbage.”

Vinnie sobbed, loud and wet and desperate. He twisted against the ropes, shaking, eyes wide and pleading.

“Please—please, no—I didn’t tell anyone I found him!”

“There was someone with you that night at the garage. Who?”

“No!” Vinnie snapped. “No one.”

“He’s fucking lying, we have video.”

“It was Mitchell, I mean, he would have taken the kid, and we’d have no money, but I let him see so we had a strong negotiating point! Yeah? I didn’t tell the Drift. None of them.”

Mateo pulled his gun and pressed it to Vinnie’s temple. “How the fuck do I know you’re not lying?”

“I’m not! I’m not!”

He snapped the safety, “You have three seconds to tell me the truth!”

Vinnie had the look of a man who knew he was dead either way. “I wanted the money for myself!” he shouted. “I didn’t tell no one ‘cept Mitchell! I’m the only one who knows! The money is all yours, Boss”

“Fuck you!” Mateo snapped, but then he stepped back, and passed me the gun. I took it on instinct. It was heavy and cold. “You have five minutes to make sure, gun is mine, unmarked, untraceable. Your decision on how he dies, but I promise if you can’t do this shit, then I will.”

Rio moved in first, crouching in front of Vinnie, who had gone pale and clammy. His face was a mess of blood and panic, but that smarmy glint still clung to his expression like an oil slick on water.

“Old friend,” Vinnie pleaded. “Come on, let me go. This has gone far enough.”

Rio didn’t blink. “Answer this first, ‘old friend.’ Who else did you tell?”

Vinnie stared up at him, blood crusting around his lips. He hesitated for a beat too long. “No one. I swear. Not ‘cept Mitchell, I didn’t tell no one. Please just get me the fuck out of here.”

Rio slowly straightened to full height. He turned to me.

“He hasn’t said anything to anyone about where Robbie is,” he said, voice neutral but cold.

“Roman? Robbie… See, Rio knows me?” Vinnie crowed, as if that somehow redeemed him. “I told you. No one else knows. It’s clean. You can walk away from this.”

But I couldn’t. Not this time.

“You told the man who kept Robbie prisoner, abused him, shared his body, where he was.”

“I—”

“You brought him to our home.”

“Fuck—”

Who is Mitchell working with? There’s two others.”

“I don’t know!” Vinnie cried. My entire body locked down; every breath I took tighter than the last. Robbie—Roman—safe upstairs in bed, tangled in the blankets, trusting me to keep the monsters away. Vinnie had wanted to sell him. Hand him over to worse men than we’d ever been. He would’ve watched them hurt him and still cashed the check.

I felt the weight of the gun in my hand. Cold. Unyielding. Final.

Blood on my hands, maybe.

But I’d bleed for Robbie. Kill for him. Burn the whole fucking city down if it meant he could sleep easy one more night.

The shot echoed in the vast space. One to the head. Another for good measure. Vinnie went limp.

I swallowed hard, jaw clenched, chest aching when I turned to Mateo standing at the door. “I’ll kill anyone who goes near Robbie.”

He nodded. “I’m not starting a fucking war over some stupid-ass kid whatever the fucking payout?—”

I was on Mateo in an instant, ignoring Goon Two, trying to pull me off, and the gun Mateo snatched from my hand was pressed to my head in an instant. He was so close I could see the flecks of amber in his hazel eyes, feel the tension in every line of my childhood friend. There was no compassion in him, no loyalty, no hint of the boy I used to know—just a cold, calculated emptiness that had carved out whatever was left of his soul and replaced it with survival instinct and bloodlust.

I hadn’t blinked over killing Vinnie, but Mateo was the worst kind of monster.

He’d fucking enjoyed watching me do it.

“Robbie is mine,” I snarled, the words spilling out hot and fast, tangled in fury and fear and something that cracked right down the center of me. Robbie wasn’t some bargaining chip or name on a list or paycheck waiting to be cashed in, he was the only person who made any of this worth surviving. He was the reason I breathed, the one thing I didn’t believe I could have until he’d crawled into my life and made a home in my heart. “He’s not a fucking kid, and if you talk about him like that again, I swear I will fuck you over so hard you won’t know which direction the sun rises. I don’t care what empire you’re trying to protect or how many guns you’ve got pointed at me. You ever reduce him to less than what he is again—less than brilliant, less than strong, less than mine—I will end you, Mateo. You hear me?

He heard me. He didn’t move, not a twitch, then, he lowered the gun. “I hear you. The five years you did for me, for your friend . My debt is repaid.

“Stay away from Redcars!”

“I don’t want anything to do with that shit,” he snarled.

I turned and left, feeling the weight of guns pointed at me, shaky from what I’d done, and Rio followed me a few feet away and then stopped by the car, arms crossed, his expression was calm. He’d seen everything I had, and when our eyes met, he nodded once. “You okay?”

No. I’d just killed a man. Yet another thorn that needed to be drawn on my tattoo. It was to keep my family safe. My lover. My Robbie. Was I okay? Not with taking life, but for Robbie, I’d kill any fucker that got near him.

Rio drove back, quiet for most of it until we reached the garage and went inside to find Jamie pacing. I looked for Robbie, but Rio gripped my arm and stopped me. “We need to tell J, then you get to go to Robbie.”

We briefly explained, in low tones, what had gone down, and when Rio said Vinnie was gone, Jamie touched my arm, enough to let me know he had my back on whatever I’d done.

“It doesn’t matter that Vinnie’s gone if there’s a price on getting Robbie back to this Mitchell guy,” Rio said. “And we don’t know who the other two are.”

“Then we find Mitchell, track the others down,” Jamie said as if it was a done deal. “No one gets to hurt Robbie.”

I wanted to debate that we shouldn’t do anything without thinking it through, but I was over all of that. We had a name now and Mitchell was next, and if I had to kill after I found out the names of the other two, I would.

All I wanted now was to see Robbie. Touch him. Hear his voice and feel the warmth of his skin under my hands. There was a phantom itch in my palms from the gun, from the recoil, from the truth of what I’d done—and it wasn’t regret. Not really.

Because I’d done it for Robbie.

Because Robbie was mine.

I didn’t feel shame. I didn’t feel guilt. I felt the fierce throb of possession in my chest and the ache in my hands to hold him. My hands weren’t clean. They’d never be clean. But maybe they were finally doing something right.

I needed him. Needed to touch him, to remind myself of why all of this mattered. Because when I had Robbie in my arms, there were no monsters left. Just him. Just us.