Page 31 of Enzo

Outside, voices rose again, but it wasn’t Logan this time.

“Nice work, dumbass,” Rio drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Scare the hell outta the kid, why don’t you? You proud of yourself?” I flinched at the word, irritation curling in my gut. Kid. Again. Like I wasn’t standing right here, like I wasn’t fully capable. I swallowed the sharp retort on my tongue, because now wasn’t the time—but damn if I wasn’t sick of hearing them call me kid.

“Fuck off, Rio.” Enzo snapped. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“Yeah, well, intentions don’t mean shit when you’re built like a brick wall and stomping around like a damn hurricane,” Rio shot back. “You think he’s gonna handle a pissed-off guy twice his size? Jesus, Enzo.”

Silence. Then, a deep, slow exhale. “I know.” His voice was quieter now, the sharp edge dulled with regret, maybe.

“So, fix it you asshole.”

A beat passed, and then footsteps as Rio walked away.

I stayed curled up, trying to will my body to stop shaking. Outside, Rio might have been mouthing off, but I knew what this was. He was furious because, for some reason, the four men in this place—Logan, Enzo, Rio, and Jamie—cared about me.

I knew that Enzo cared. I knew he didn’t mean to scare me. He was loud and rough around the edges, but he’d never once made me feel he would actually hurt me—this was a visceral reaction to his temper.

I inhaled slowly, then exhaled, trying to follow the steps from the relaxation techniques I’d read about. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again. And again. My pulse was still erratic, my skin clammy, but I focused on the sound of Enzo’s voice outside the door. He wasn’t yelling anymore, just talking—about car parts, the mess Jamie had made of the purchase orders, and how he’d typically ask me where everything was because I was the only one who knew where anything was.

I focused on the words, the steady tempo of his voice, the familiarity of numbers and lists, of cars and engines—things I understood and could control. My hands relaxed, and my breathing evened out, but the exhaustion it left behind was brutal. My stomach churned, nausea rolling through me in waves. I still felt sick, but at least the worst had passed.

“…so then I told Jamie it was for the Corvette.”

Hell. No.

I yanked the chair from under the door handle so fast it scraped across the floor, flung the door open, and glared at Enzo. “It was for the Charger! The Charger, Enzo! No wonder nothing gets done right around here!” I folded my arms, still fuming, but the weight in my chest had lightened a little. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Enzo offered me a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his liquid chocolate eyes. Then, it faded, his expression sobering as guilt crept in. “Sorry, kid.”

The words struck a deep chord within me, and I stood up tall at my full five-eight, brushing my hair out of my eyes. Standing straighter didn’t change my height, but it made me feel bigger, steadier. “I’m not a kid,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.

Enzo winced. “It’s just a nickname?—”

“Well, think of something else!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

Silence hung between us for a beat, and Rio blew a low whistle. “Damn, De León. You really fucked up this time.”

Enzo shifted, rubbing the back of his neck before exhaling. His gaze flicked toward me, guilt evident in the tight set of his jaw, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded once, as if he knew there was nothing he could say to fix it right now.

“What the hell?” Jamie asked, his arms full of brake pads and a timing belt. He stopped mid-step, his gaze flicking between Enzo and Rio, then landing on me, and within seconds, he’d placed the parts to one side and stood between me and the other two. “What the fuck did you do now, Rio?”

Rio didn’t hesitate. “Wasn’t me,” he thumbed at Enzo, “Big dumbass here scared the crap outta Robbie. Kid locked himself in his room.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Idiots.” He turned to me, softer now. “You okay, kid?” My jaw clenched at the word, frustration in my chest like a tight coil. Not again. Not from Jamie, too. I forced my shoulders back, swallowing down the irritation, but my hands still curled into fists at my sides. “I’m fine,” I bit out, sharper than I intended, “But I’m twenty-freaking-three! I’m not a kid! Find something else to call me!”

I turned on my heel, stalking back into the filing room. Pulling out the paperwork for the Charger, I listened as the three started bickering over what else to call me.

“Fine, no more Kid,’” Jamie said. “How about ‘Rookie’?”

“Rookie?” Rio scoffed. “He’s not a cop, and he’s not playing sports, dumbass.”

“All right, all right, what about ‘Shortstack’?” Jamie suggested, smirking.

“Oh yeah, that’ll go over real well,” Rio muttered. “Why not just call him ‘Fun-Size’ and really piss him off?”

“What about ‘Specs’?” Jamie offered. “He’s always got his nose in paperwork and books.”

“Not wearing glasses, genius,” Rio shot back.

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