Page 98 of Enzo

Robbie stared at me, then down at his notebook. “I didn’t know who to trust.” He handed Killian a list of names. “And thank god I didn’t because… look.” He pointed at the top name on the list.

“Fuck me,” Killian said. “Emmerson Dran? The regional director of the freaking FBI is on Mitchell’s payroll. Fifty thousand a month?”

“Not Mitchell’s payroll, one of the two men who ran him. And his account is seven-seven-Y-K-U-N-H-G-T-forward-slash-K-P-eight.”

“And Dran’s brother, Samuel?”

“Four separate companies that funnel and clean money. The code is?—”

“It’s okay, I don’t need those now,” Killian murmured.

I reached over and took Robbie’s hand, held it tight. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

Killian watched our exchange, tapping his pen against the table. “So you’ve got away, there’s a price on your back, and the people who should protect you are compromised.” He looked at me, the most confused I’d ever seen him. And you brought him to me because…?”

“Because Tudor says you’re one of us, I say you’re trash that made it out, and the only connected person I know,” I said bluntly. “And we need options that don’t end with Robbie dead or back in Mitchell’s hands.”

“‘Trash that made it out’?” Killian said with a fake gasp, and then a slow smile spread. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my gorgeous, brown-eyed man.” He turned his attention back to Robbie. “So, you can write down what you have in your head?”

“No fucking way. If he does that, he doesn’t have anything for protection.”

Killian nodded. “Young Robbie here needs to die.”

Silence. “What the fuck?” I snapped, as Rio closed in on us, and Jamie appeared from nowhere. Rio had his knife out, and Jamie was tensed and poised.

Killian glanced up at them. “Rio Villareal. Pretty Jamie Maddox. Super protective Lorenzo DeLeon. And me. All the trash, eh?” He laughed, then pointed at Jamie. “Beautiful trash with your blue eyes, I’d fuck you in a heartbeat,Pretty.”

Jamie’s lip curled. “Try it, and I’ll bury you so deep your own lies won’t find you.”.

“Anyway, stand down; I didn’t mean die for real, you fucking idiots.” Then he pointed at Robbie. “What’s your real name?”

Robbie scooted closer, and I tugged him to sit on my lap. He curled up under my chin. “Roman Lowe,” he murmured.

“Okay, so Roman has to die, because as long as Roman Lowe is alive, Mitchell won’t stop.”

“As long as Mitchell is alive, he won’t stop,” Enzo said.

“Agreed,” Rio said.

Killian winced. “What you do with Mitchell is your business, but you say there are three of them, that Mitchell is working for someone else? The price will keep climbing until someone collects, and you can’t stay in here hidden, even with your disguise, which, hell, your roots are showing, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Robbie snapped.

Killian inclined his head. “No, you’re not. Now, if Roman Lowe is found dead from, say, a bullet to the head…” Killian’s smile was sharklike. “Then the hunt stops. Can’t collect on a dead man.”

Rio lowered his knife but didn’t put it away. “You can fix that?”

“I’m offended you’d even ask.” Killian huffed, straightening his tie. “I’ll call in some favors, get a big splash online, then we watch the dark web for the call to get taken down. And after plastic surgery, Robbie Ellwood gets to live out his life in a new location away from Mitchell and whoever is with him, also Robbie Ellwood is millions richer.”

“I don’t want the money.”

“You’d be stupid to let it g?—”

“Also, Mitchell is looking for a skinny blond man with heterochromia, not a brunette with hazel eyes. And I’m eating now and getting bigger. And I’m not leaving here, I don’t want to leave my family.” I stroked Robbie’s back and he slumped a little. “Enzo?”

“What kind of plastic surgery?” I asked.

“I know a guy, enough to change the shape of your face a little, enough to stay alive.”

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