Page 32 of Enzo (Redcars #1)

THIRTY-TWO

Enzo

Killian McKendrick, six-five of muscle in a suit, stood at the open door with the kind of ease that suggested this was all a game to him. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like walking into a room full of criminals and secrets was just another Tuesday.

Jamie clocked him instantly, arms folded tight, jaw set like stone. The tension coming off him was a live wire. Where Killian was smooth, Jamie was coiled—ready to strike, ready for a fight. Sparks snapped in the air between them before either said a word. and Rio already had him covered not letting him in. We’d all met each other through Logan, but Killian was still an unknown to us and even though Tudor had given me this cryptic instruction that Lil’ K, aka Killian, could help, I didn’t like him up in our business. Tall and dangerous wrapped in a suit, he was yet another of Tudor’s guys, he was a lawyer and had helped Logan with the custody situation using means that weren’t legal, aka finding video evidence of Cassidy future step-daddy fucking around on Cassidy’s mom. I hated that I needed his chaotic energy now, and I hoped to hell he’d take a payment plan because Doc had wiped me out.

“He’s here for me,” I told Rio, who glanced over at me and then nodded before stepping aside to let him in. I recalled what he’d said to Logan after threatening to take us both down and confronting us with insane attitude.

“Harvard Law, first in my class, 179 LSAT, photographic memory. I paid for tuition on my back, and I don’t owe anyone anything, apart from Tudor who saved me. You’d better believe I took every opportunity that I could to be the best at what I do. I fight dirty as hell, but make it look as innocent as a newborn baby.”

Yeah. That was what we needed.

Was a photographic memory the same as Eidetic like Robbie?

“Enzo,” he said and extended a hand. “Such beautiful eyes.”

“Fuck off,” I snapped, and he winked. Asshole. I shook his hand though because I needed him and his devious shit.

“What happened now?” he asked, shrugging off his suit jacket and placing his briefcase on the nearest pile of tires. I nodded to Rio, who locked the side door and pressed a button to roll down the main shutter doors. Killian tensed, glanced around him, and gone was the flirting, and there was tension in his shoulders.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. Robbie?”

Robbie came out of his room, head buried in a notebook, and then stopped dead when he saw Killian.

“Killian McKendrick,” Killian murmured, and tilted his head.

“Your law books,” Robbie blurted.

“My what now?” Killian asked, peering down at Robbie.

“They’re in my room, your name was in them. I read them all.”

“Cool,” I don’t think Killian knew what to say to that.

“Thank you for leaving them,” Robbie said, and stepped backward, his notebook clutched in his hands, as if he was leaving.

“Wait, Robbie. We need to tell Killian everything,” I said.

Robbie stiffened. “What? No!”

“You need someone on your side.”

“I have you. And Jamie and Rio!”

“Someone who can stop you from being a target.”

“I can’t…”

I cradled his face. “We’re just talking.” He stared at me, confused, and nodded. There it was… his trust in me overrode his fear, and I felt like the most powerful man on Earth.

“If you think it’s a good idea.”

“I hope it is, but if not, we leave, okay?” I said, he nodded and I reluctantly dropped my hand from his face. “Killian, this is Robbie, he’s…”

“The eidetic genius,” Killian completed for me, eyes scanning Robbie with a clinical precision that made me uneasy. “Tudor mentioned him. Said he was important to you.”

“He’s everything to me,” I said, and Robbie’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You know people, and I want you to use your legal or not legal resources to protect him from people who want to hurt him.”

Killian didn’t seem surprised. He moved to the small table we had set up in the kitchen, dragging over a chair and sitting down like he owned the place. “Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out.”

I glanced at Robbie, who gave a small nod, clutching his notebook tighter, and then he began to explain how he was like a human ledger, and at that point Killian opened his tablet and made some notes.

“A human ledger?” Killian asked, his expression inscrutable. “Define that for me.”

Robbie shifted and glanced at me for reassurance. I nodded, squeezing his shoulder.

“I remember everything,” Robbie said. “Not just words or pictures. Numbers. Transactions. Accounts.” He tapped his temple. “It’s all in here. Names, dates, amounts. Who paid what to whom and when.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “And who exactly knows about this talent of yours?”

“The wrong people,” I cut in. “Men with guns. The kind who make problems disappear.”

“Specifically?” Killian prompted, fingers hovering above his tablet.

“John Mitchell,” Robbie said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He chained me, collared me, used me, offered me to two people he worked for.”

Killian went deadly quiet, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed. Did he know that name? Or was he reacting to the statement about how he’d hurt me?

Robbie’s hands trembled as he opened his notebook and reached for a pen. He scribbled a list, two pages of intricate notes and numbers, and handed it to Killian. “Money laundering, bribes, payoffs, blackmail. I know who they paid, how much, and where the money came from. the last entry is a payment order for a hit. He hid it in crypto, and I was the only other one to know the codes.”

“He will have moved that money already,” Killian said, and sat back.

“He can’t,” Robbie said.

“What do you mean, he can’t?”

“How much do you know about cryptocurrency?”

Killian shrugged, “I read some things. Like you, I remember pictures of what I read, just not as insanely obsessive as you.” he tapped his temple. “Photographic, not eidetic.”

“The crypto wallet password is nothing without the Seed Phrase.” Robbie glanced at me. “It’s a sequence of random words as a master key to access or recover a cryptocurrency wallet, allowing users to regain access to their funds even if the wallet is lost, damaged, or the device it’s stored on is compromised.” He sounded as if he were quoting from something he read, but I got the gist.

Killian sat forward in the chair, alert. “And you have this Seed Phrase,” he stated rather than asking, leaning even closer, his professional demeanor slipping to reveal something hungrier.

“It’s up here,” Robbie tapped his head again. Random words that can’t be guessed or hacked. I changed them, and he only has a single physical copy of the old words. He’s lost all of that cash and proof. Over twenty million.”

Killian whistled low, his eyes calculating. “That’s motivation enough for a lot of bodies. What else do you have?”

“Names to transactions, years of them, names that I looked up since I got here. A judge, cops, businessmen,” Robbie’s voice grew steadier as he spoke. “Every judge I identified who took a bribe. Every politician I can put a face to a name now with offshore accounts. I saw the payments myself.”

Killian sat back, rubbing his jaw. “Jesus Christ.”

“That’s why they want Robbie, and there’s a dark web price on his head,” I said, placing a protective hand on Robbie’s shoulder.

Killian looked between us, then fixed his gaze on Robbie. “Why didn’t you go to the feds? Witness protection?”

Robbie stared at me, then down at his notebook. “I didn’t know who to trust.” He handed Killian a list of names. “And thank god I didn’t because… look.” He pointed at the top name on the list.

“Fuck me,” Killian said. “Emmerson Dran? The regional director of the freaking FBI is on Mitchell’s payroll. Fifty thousand a month?”

“Not Mitchell’s payroll, one of the two men who ran him. And his account is seven-seven-Y-K-U-N-H-G-T-forward-slash-K-P-eight.”

“And Dran’s brother, Samuel?”

“Four separate companies that funnel and clean money. The code is?—”

“It’s okay, I don’t need those now,” Killian murmured.

I reached over and took Robbie’s hand, held it tight. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

Killian watched our exchange, tapping his pen against the table. “So you’ve got away, there’s a price on your back, and the people who should protect you are compromised.” He looked at me, the most confused I’d ever seen him. And you brought him to me because…?”

“Because Tudor says you’re one of us, I say you’re trash that made it out, and the only connected person I know,” I said bluntly. “And we need options that don’t end with Robbie dead or back in Mitchell’s hands.”

“‘Trash that made it out’?” Killian said with a fake gasp, and then a slow smile spread. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my gorgeous, brown-eyed man.” He turned his attention back to Robbie. “So, you can write down what you have in your head?”

“No fucking way. If he does that, he doesn’t have anything for protection.”

Killian nodded. “Young Robbie here needs to die.”

Silence. “What the fuck?” I snapped, as Rio closed in on us, and Jamie appeared from nowhere. Rio had his knife out, and Jamie was tensed and poised.

Killian glanced up at them. “Rio Villareal. Pretty Jamie Maddox. Super protective Lorenzo DeLeon. And me. All the trash, eh?” He laughed, then pointed at Jamie. “Beautiful trash with your blue eyes, I’d fuck you in a heartbeat, Pretty .”

Jamie’s lip curled. “Try it, and I’ll bury you so deep your own lies won’t find you.”.

“Anyway, stand down; I didn’t mean die for real, you fucking idiots.” Then he pointed at Robbie. “What’s your real name?”

Robbie scooted closer, and I tugged him to sit on my lap. He curled up under my chin. “Roman Lowe,” he murmured.

“Okay, so Roman has to die, because as long as Roman Lowe is alive, Mitchell won’t stop.”

“As long as Mitchell is alive, he won’t stop,” Enzo said.

“Agreed,” Rio said.

Killian winced. “What you do with Mitchell is your business, but you say there are three of them, that Mitchell is working for someone else? The price will keep climbing until someone collects, and you can’t stay in here hidden, even with your disguise, which, hell, your roots are showing, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Robbie snapped.

Killian inclined his head. “No, you’re not. Now, if Roman Lowe is found dead from, say, a bullet to the head…” Killian’s smile was sharklike. “Then the hunt stops. Can’t collect on a dead man.”

Rio lowered his knife but didn’t put it away. “You can fix that?”

“I’m offended you’d even ask.” Killian huffed, straightening his tie. “I’ll call in some favors, get a big splash online, then we watch the dark web for the call to get taken down. And after plastic surgery, Robbie Ellwood gets to live out his life in a new location away from Mitchell and whoever is with him, also Robbie Ellwood is millions richer.”

“I don’t want the money.”

“You’d be stupid to let it g?—”

“Also, Mitchell is looking for a skinny blond man with heterochromia, not a brunette with hazel eyes. And I’m eating now and getting bigger. And I’m not leaving here, I don’t want to leave my family.” I stroked Robbie’s back and he slumped a little. “Enzo?”

“What kind of plastic surgery?” I asked.

“I know a guy, enough to change the shape of your face a little, enough to stay alive.”

Robbie closed his eyes, and I felt all the energy leave him, and that wasn’t happening on my watch. “It won’t change the shape of your heart and what’s in it, Robbie, and we’re staying here unless we have to leave, then we’ll leave together.”

“And we take out Mitchell,” Jamie said, arms crossed over his chest, fire in his blue eyes.

“Jesus, Pretty,” Killian laughed with disbelief.

Jamie didn’t move for a second, then took a single step forward, eyes sharp. His fingers twitched at his side.

“He’s a threat to Redcars and our family,” he said. “And we’re not asking for permission.”

The air between them crackled. Killian’s easy confidence held—there was a flicker of something sharper in his eyes now. Respect, maybe. Or recognition of just how dangerous Jamie could be when cornered?

Killian chuckled. “Is that what you want, Pretty? Revenge?”

“Justice,” Jamie corrected, not backing down from Killian’s mocking tone. “And everyone has a weakness to burn.”

“Ah, yes, our hacker-slash-pyromaniac murderer,” Killian murmured.

“Then you know I can find a flaw and take him and his buddies down.”

“You don’t get it, Pretty.” Killian shook his head, his expression serious. “Mitchell’s weakness is sitting on Enzo’s lap.”

I felt Robbie stiffen against me, and I tightened my arms around him. His head pressed into my chest as if he was trying to disappear, and I hated that Killian had said it out loud like that—as if Robbie was a liability, a tool, instead of the person I’d bleed for.

My pulse thudded at my temples, but I said nothing. I didn’t need to. Robbie’s fingers curled into my shirt, and I felt his breath stutter once before settling.

Killian’s gaze softened by a fraction. “Taking out Mitchell, if that’s what you’re planning, is the wrong move.” He huffed a laugh. “How will we get justice if you kill him?”

“That is justice,” Jamie snarled in Killian’s face.

“Back off,” Killian snapped. “We need to kill Roman first, then see what cards Mitchell plays when everyone thinks he’s no longer a threat. He’ll be desperate to get his money, and we’ll need to neutralize him.” He paused, then he smirked at Jamie. “What do you say, Pretty? Are you good for more than burning shit down and standing around looking cute?”

Jamie stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his glare sharp enough to slice. “Say that again, and I’ll hack your face off the fucking planet.”

Killian blinked once, then grinned wider, enjoying the pushback. Sparks flew in the silence that followed, electricity crackling between them, so thick I could almost taste it.

“Back down, J,” I said.

“Yep, back down, Pretty, the men are talking,” Killian added with a smirk, but Jamie didn’t laugh. He glanced at me, eyes hard, and I gave him the tiniest shake. Not now.

Killian turned his attention back to Robbie, all the playfulness bleeding from his face.

“We don’t just need a body to prove Roman Lowe is dead,” Killian mused, tapping his fingers on the table. “We need a spectacle. Something public enough to make the news, but controlled enough that we manage all the variables. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and opened an app, clicking around, and then with an aha! he connected with someone who sounded pissed that Killian dared to contact them. A couple of sentences later, muffled as Killian paced toward Logan’s office, he returned with a grim smile. “It’s on.”

Robbie grew tense. “What about any kids he takes before we close him down, what about… I couldn’t do anything… I need…”

Killian tensed; all the teasing was gone. “What kids?”

“Payments for cargo, with names, codes. I never saw it, but he trafficked, and…” Robbie’s voice wobbled. “I left them.”

I tightened my arms around Robbie. “You didn’t leave anything,” I said fiercely.

“I didn’t know,” Killian began, and then corrected himself just as quickly. “I mean, you didn’t know.”

I didn’t have time to work out Killian right now.

I wanted Robbie safe; I wanted John fucking Mitchell dead.