Page 66 of Enzo

“What do you know?”

“Nothing, I swear, just heard from some guy called Vinnie?—”

“What about him?”

“Tried to sell on a boosted car! Fuck! Let me go.”

“Where is Vinnie?”

“I don’t know! This was weeks ago!” I choked him harder, but let the two big guys pull me away.

“If I find out you’re getting up in Redcars business I will end you. Right here,” I snapped as I shrugged them off.

I let the silence stretch and get heavy enough that Albie blinked first. I was outnumbered, but I could do severe damage if pushed. Then I exhaled—I wasn’t going to lose my temper on a job and put myself in harm’s way— slowly, deliberately, I turned back to Albie. “You taking the offer on the car or not?”

He hesitated, glanced at his guys, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we got a deal.”

The tension in the room eased.

“Load her up, boys,” Albie said, and the two thick-necked men hurried to get the 1970 GTO onto the back of the Redcars truck.

As soon as I was heading back to Redcars and away from Albie, I felt the tension ease from my shoulders and when I parked up in the yard, Rio was there in a flash, eyes lighting up at the Pontiac on the back of the truck, but he must have caught my expression.

“What?” he asked under his breath.

“Vinnie causing shit about Stone Cross moving in around here.”

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Nope.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Jamie interrupted, climbing onto the truck bed and running a hand over the rusted hood, tracing the faded lines of what had once been a beast of a machine. “This is going to be a kick-ass project. What are we working with?” Wrench in hand, he pried the hood open. He whistled low as he took in the engine. “Damn, rough as shit. Carburetor’s shot, belts are cracked to hell, and that exhaust is a lost cause.”

Rio and I exchanged glances—nothing more to talk about here. Lets’ change the subject.

Rio clambered up to join Jamie. “It’s got good bones. We swap out the carb, reinforce the frame, get a new set of wheels on her—she’ll be a monster again.”

I watched them both, the weight of the earlier encounter easing slightly. “How fast can we flip it and turn a profit?”

Rio snorted, wiping grease from his hands. “A month? More like two if you want it done right.” Then he grinned. “Unless you let me take some creative liberties.”

I shook my head. “No nitrous.”

“No promises,” Rio shot back with a wink. I needed this. I needed normal.

“What’s this one?” Robbie asked, and I damn near jumped out of my skin. I hadn’t expected him to be interested, not in cars. That had never been his thing. But lately, he’d been trying, asking questions, listening when I talked shop. And hell, I was more than happy to talk about cars rather than confront the shadows in his expression. It kept me from saying something stupid—and I didn’t mean about killing anyone who hurt him. I mean, like how much, when this was all over, I wanted to take him on a date, kiss him again, or hold him as he fell apart in my arms.

I ran a hand over the faded black hood, the dull sheen of the Pontiac showing hints of the power it used to wield. “1970 Pontiac GTO,” I said. “They called it ‘The Judge’ back in the day—one of the baddest muscle cars to ever hit the streets. This one’s seen better days, but she’s got a solid frame. Needs a full rebuild—carb, belts, exhaust, the whole nine yards—but once she’s done, she’ll be a beast again.”

“A loud one,” Rio added with a grin. “This thing, stock? Already had three hundred and seventy horses under the hood.”

Jamie, half-buried under the open hood, let out a snort. “But you know we’re not leaving it stock.”

“Exactly,” Rio said with so much enthusiastic hand-waving he nearly wiped Jamie out. “We get the right setup; this baby’s gonna roar. Dual exhausts, new headers, maybe an LS swap if we’re feeling ambitious.”

Robbie nodded as if he understood, but I could see the crease in his brow, the way he was trying to piece it all together. “So… you’re bringing it back from the dead?”

“Exactly.” I leaned against the truck, watching Jamie tinker and Rio throw out modification ideas with the excitement of a kid in a candy store. “Then we sell it on, and it’s all gravy.”

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