Page 59 of Enzo

Logan thumped the wall next to my head which dragged me right the fuck out of daydreaming. “Listen up, work as usual, okay? We’ve got two cars in today—a ‘67 Mustang and some piece-of-shit Civic that barely made it here last time. The Mustang’s got potential. The Civic? Not so much.”

Jamie smirked. “I call the Mustang.”

I snorted, all thoughts of drugs and drama and worry about Rio and Robbie forgotten. “In your dreams.”

Jamie smirked, setting his coffee down. “Oh, I think you mean reality.”

I nudged him lightly, grinning. “You’ve got nerve, kid. I’ve been here nine years. You? Barely three. That makes me the boss.”

“Boss of what?” Jamie shoved back, laughing. “The coffee machine?”

“Exactly,” I shot back, bumping him again. “Show some respect.”

Our laughter echoed around the kitchen, bouncing off cabinets and countertops until a sleepy Robbie appeared in the doorway. His hair stuck up at odd angles, the edges of his sweatshirt crumpled as he rubbed his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Jamie and I chorused.

Robbie muttered something unintelligible, shuffling sleepily back into the hallway. He probably hadn’t even fully woken up yet, but he didn’t look scared,

Fuck, he looked cute this morning.

“I have updates on security, you want to take this coffee upstairs? I can brief Rio when his dick dries.”

The three of us headed up to the apartment, and Jamie fiddled with his laptop and the TV screen lit up with security views.

“So walk us through it again,” I said, leaning back in the sofa, as Jamie clicked through the options.

“Cameras on every corner—indoor and out. We’ve got motion sensors at every window and infrared perimeter alarms. Reinforced door locks on the main and side entrance, and the yard bay door. All connected to a central system that logs every blip. Manual override, our access. No one’s getting through unless we buzz them in.”

“Good,” I said. I needed that part to be perfect. I needed to know that if someone came for Robbie again, they’d never make it anywhere near him.

Logan asked the first question, ever practical. “What about the fire escape access?”

Jamie nodded. “Sealed. Double-locked and under camera now. Any tampering, we get alerts.”

I leaned forward. “What if someone gets past what you’ve set up—what’s the reaction time?”

Jamie didn’t hesitate. “Thirty-five seconds to full lockdown, faster if one of us hits a panic button. And those are in every room, now, even bathrooms.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t done. “And if they come for him when he’s not here? What do we have in place for extraction?”

Jamie looked at me, serious now. “Then we go to plan B.” He held up a small device, no bigger than a fingernail. “Robbie has this, it’s a tracker and we move. Fast.”

We stopped talking when Robbie came out of the bathroom. He was dressed in sweats and a Redcars T-shirt—mine by the way it hung on him, and he hovered by the door. I patted the couch and it dipped beside me as he curled into my side, his body warm and quiet against mine. He didn’t say anything, just tucked himself in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. He still startled at noises, still scanned rooms like there was always a threat waiting—but when he was next to me like this, something eased. I felt it in him. The way he sighed into my side. The way his fingers curled into whatever I was wearing.

He was breathing easier.

“Jamie has made this place impenetrable,” I said.

But Robbie sighed. “Like a different kind of prison,” he mumbled.

Jamie turned to face him fully. “Not for long Robbie. You’re not alone in this. We will find them all.”

That made him breathe out again.

He was safe here.

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