Page 54 of Enzo

“Enzo.” I corrected because fuck if this asshole got to call me by my childhood nickname now we were all grown up.

He was carrying, of course—holster strapped tight to his ribs like a second skin, the glint of a familiar gun handle catching the light. The design carved into the grip wasn’t for show. I recognized it as the one his daddy used to wear, back when Mateo was a punk kid trailing after one of the most feared men in the community. That handle was a family legacy—and a promise of how things could go sideways. The men flanking him weren’t here to make polite conversation. Both strapped. Both watched Rio and me like we were walking threats.

He rounded the table, Goons One and Two stiffening. “And you brought a friend.” Mateo said and his grin widened. “Rio Villareal, fighter, killed a man in the third round, eight years in High Desert. Right?”

Rio stiffened, took a step forward, Goon Two’s hand rested on his weapon.

I held up a hand in front of Rio. “Why the fuck are you messing with my neighborhood?”

Mateo’s grin faltered, but it soon returned and he motioned to the table. “It’s good to see you Lor. Have a drink. It’s cocoa. Like Momma used to make.” A sense memory of creamy cocoa hit me. Mateo’s mom used to make it taste so good—probably adding love or some shit like that. I remembered one time—just one—when she’d made it for both of us after we’d gotten caught stealing cigarettes from the gas station. She hadn’t yelled. Just sat us down, handed us mugs, and told us we were better than this. That we had choices. Yeah, so many fucking choices. Mateo had laughed it off, always wanting to be the big man, to go places, to be like his dad. That one moment stuck like a splinter under the skin. Still there, still aching. Now Mateo was out here, making moves, marking territory on our doorstep. Why come anywhere near Redcars?

“Answer the fucking question, Mateo.”

Mateo sighed like I was being difficult. “You won’t drink cocoa; you’ve brought muscle; We’re nowhere near Redcars, so I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Lor.”

I stepped up to him, close enough that I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes; he still had a few inches on me, but I didn’t give a fuck.

Goon One moved, but Mateo waved him back.

“I had a deal with Sonny,” I snapped, unable to keep all of my emotions in check. “But you’re creeping around my home as if that deal didn’t mean shit.”

Both goons stepped closer, subtle, hands flexing.

Rio moved one step. I didn’t want a fight, but for my family… for Robbie… I’d fucking take them all down.

“I don’t break deals,” Mateo said, voice flat. “I’m nowhere near yourgarage.”

“Vinnie Rizzuto ring a bell?” I asked, watching his face.

Mateo didn’t flinch, but I saw it—a twitch, a tic in his jaw—and then Goon One opened his mouth.

“One of Luca’s new hires, boss.” And there it was—the slip. And if looks could kill, then Goon One would be dead right now.

I leaned in. “You owe me. I want Vinnie. You hear me,Matty?” Two could play at the childhood nickname game.

Mateo tilted his head. “The deal stands.”

I didn’t blink. “Then fucking fix your shit and bring me Vinnie.”

The room stayed still. Silent.

Mateo chuckled, low and slow. “You haven’t changed, Lor. Still playing alpha like it’s in your blood.” He flicked his fingers, that lazy little kingpin motion that sent people scattering. “You can go now.”

For a second, I thought he meant me, but the goons shifted. Goon One made for the door without hesitation. Goon Two hesitated, loyalty digging its heels into hesitation.

“Boss? This isn’t a good idea.”

Mateo shook him off like swatting a fly. “Fucking go,” he said again, and this time it was laced with threat. Then his gaze slid back to Rio and me like a slow knife. “I want to talk to myold friendalone.”

Next to me, Rio tensed, jaw grinding. I could feel the heat rolling off him.

“I’ll be five minutes,” I said, pulling the keys from my pocket and offering them like a peace token.

“Fuck no,” Rio barked, not even looking at the keys. “Vinnie is my problem too.”

Mateo dropped into a chair with deliberate calm, his voice silky with venom as he tapped his lower lip. “Ah, yes. Rio was Vinnie’s little plaything way back. Right”

Rio lunged the room in a heartbeat, grabbed Mateo by the collar, and yanked him upright, blade at his throat. Fast, efficient, no bluff.

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