Page 68 of Enzo

“Don’t you even think of putting him in that position,” I growled, voice low and sharp.

Jamie’s eyes widened, staring at me unfazed—freaking psycho—studying me as though I was a bug on a pin. He didn’t try to push me off because he knew I’d let nothing slide where Robbie was concerned, so instead, he let me posture and threaten him.

“Jesus, Enzo,” he muttered, hands raised to tap my arm. “I wasn’t gonna?—”

“He stays here where he feels safe?—”

“I get that?—”

“And that doesn’t mean you bring the poker game here!”

“No, shit, I was joking. I would never hurt the kid or put him in that situation.”

Rio moved in beside us, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Toss-up: would he try to break us apart or let me get my point across?

Jamie let out a slow breath. “Look, I get it. Robbie’s your guy. But I swear to you, man, I wouldn’t mess with him. He’s a good person.”

I studied him for a long moment, then let go, stepping back, all while trying to ignore the comment about Robbie being my guy. “See that you don’t.”

Jamie patted my chest, then tilted his head a little, his gaze hardening. “And I’d never let anyone else hurt him.”

But before I could spiral too far, Rio stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “The three of us here, Logan—we’re looking after the kid, okay? All of us. It’s just that one of us is more gone than the rest. Okay?”

I clenched my jaw, angry and something deeper I couldn’t put a name to. Rio shifted, stepping enough into my space to ground me. To remind me of where we were and what we were doing.

Jamie huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “Man, you’re intense. I was joking, all right? And I meant what I said—I’d never let anyone hurt him.”

I exhaled, forcing my hands to my sides. “Good. Make sure you don’t.”

“And when we get our hands on Vinnie, we’ve got your back,” he added.

“And John, when we find him.”

“And the others,” Jamie added. “Whoever the fuck they are.”

Rio clapped a hand on my shoulder, giving me a slight squeeze before stepping back. “All right, now that we’ve all had our dramatic moment, get back to fixing the damn car?”

Jamie lowered his voice, “And can we all agree that we’re looking out for Robbie, but for the rest of us, it’s purely platonic?”

Lucky for him, he ducked before I could take him out.

Asshole.

TWENTY-THREE

Robbie

I’d finishedfor the day and was hunched over a work bench, flicking back through the pages ofClassic Pontiac Repairs: A Practical Guideby Everett J. Monroe, rubbing at my temple as I skimmed page 23 again. According to Monroe, the best way to fix a misfiring engine on a ‘69 GTO was to adjust the timing chain tension—he made it sound like a straightforward fix.

However, on page 129, the same guy claimed that factory-set timing on those same models wasn’t the issue and that people should“avoid unnecessary meddling.”So which was it? Adjust or don’t touch?

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. I’d learn this stuff if the book wasn’t so poorly written.

I heard Rio making exaggerated footsteps outside the door to let me know he was coming to see me. “That was a big sigh,” he said from the doorway.

I looked up and smiled despite myself. “I think the people in this book are wrong.”

Rio held out a hand, and I passed him the book. He flipped through a couple of pages before snorting. “Yeah. This is shit.” He snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the counter.

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