Page 11 of Enzo
Robbie’s gaze flicked to the offering, then back to me. His hand shot out, fingers curling around the plate as if he thought I might snatch it back. He tugged it inside, and the door started to close.
“Robbie?” I blurted out before he could shut me out completely. “You need anything else? Is there someone we can call? Family?”
He hesitated. “No,” he half-whispered, then the door closed, and I was left staring at the wood.
“We need to find out who did this,” Rio growled behind me.
I turned to face him, Jamie, and Logan. When the hell had Logan arrived?
“Lo,” I said.
“He okay?” Logan asked, but I didn’t want to talk about Robbie where he could hear, I gestured for them all to move to the engine bay where Rio’s pacing had worn a faint track on the dusty floor, and again boots scuffed in short, agitated bursts. This wasn’t just about Robbie—it never was.
“Fuck knows,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. The thought of Robbie in that room, beaten and broken, fueled something ugly inside me.
Jamie shot me a look but didn’t comment.
“I don’t care who we hurt,” Rio continued, pointing a finger that shook with anger, “whoever’s behind this doesn’t get to walk away clean. We find them, we end them.”
That was Rio—all fists and action, always ready to punch his way through a problem. Direct action was his answer to everything. He didn’t believe in waiting or strategy, not when anger felt faster and more satisfying. It didn’t matter if violence wasn’t the smartest move—if Rio thought it would solve the problem, he’d swing first and worry about the fallout later. His temper ran hot and fast, like a fuse that never quite stopped burning. It made him dangerous, but right now? Dangerous felt likeexactlywhat Robbie might need.
Jamie hummed thoughtfully. There was a darker side to Jamie none of us understood. He didn’t talk about his past much, but the rumors stuck. Whispers about what he’d done before Redcars, about the parents who’d died in a house fire, and the uncle who’d ended up burning alive. Fire was his thing, but he had a gift with computers that none of us saw here. Whether the rumors were true or not, Jamie denied nothing about burning his family—and that silence said enough. There was a cold precision to the way he spoke when things got dark, as if violence wasn’tjustan option but something he knew too well, and he flicked his cheap lighters and stared at the flame too often for us not to notice. That edge, the quiet threat following him like a shadow, made Jamie the kind of dangerous even Rio didn’t mess with.
His words carried a weight that chilled the air. “Or we make them wish they’d never been born.” He smiled like it was a casual idea, not a promise of something dark and drawn-out.
Rio and Jamie exchanged glances, silent but sure. That quiet understanding between them—the unshakable confidence that, one way or another, the bad guys were done—sent a chill down my spine. I’d be there with them, but no one needed to know that right now. Jamie leaned in slightly, muttering something sharp. Rio nodded, already tossing out plans.
“We grab ‘em first,” Rio said, his fingers twitching as if he was itching to throw a punch. “Drag ‘em in here, let ‘em stew for a while. Chain ‘em up like they did the kid and then fucking stab them.”
Jamie smirked, dark and cold. “Or we take something they care about, cut their fucking cocks off for what they did to him, break them down piece by piece.”
Their words came low, like the start of a twisted brainstorming session—brutal, merciless, and all too easy for them to slip into. I knew Rio’s fire well enough, but Jamie? There was something about the way he calculated cruelty as though he had a list of tortures already filed away in his mind, each one worse than the last. Rio was rage; Jamie was ice—and both of them were dangerous in their own way.
“Jesus! Stop!” Logan cut in, “We don’t know what the fuck happened.”
“Trafficking,” Rio said.
“Slavery,” Jamie added.
“Okay, fuck. Stop! Someone needs to catch me up here, and hell… “ Logan’s calm felt forced now, strained around the edges, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides, knuckles pale. He was holding everything together, balancing the weight of Redcars and the lives tangled up in it. Logan knew this place wasn’t only a garage—it was sanctuary, safety—and if he lost control now, everything could unravel. He wasn’t just worried about Robbie or the violence Rio and Jamie were eager to unleash. He was carrying all of it—every risk, every threat—and somehow, he had to stay solid enough to keep us all standing. “…we need to be smart, not reckless. Redcars isn’t somewhere we drag shit into.” He paused, dragging in a breath, then exhaled slowly and deliberately. “There’s nothing we should do when the cost is getting ourselves killed or putting this Robbie guy in danger. We can’t charge in blind when we know fuck all about who we’re trying to hurt or why.”
I tuned their heated debate out, my focus slipping back to the file room door. Robbie was away from whatever threats we hadn’t yet faced. And yet, I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to be in there. I needed to know he was okay. The longer I stared at that door, the harder it became to breathe. My thoughts spiraled—was he conscious? Was he scared? Did he know we were out here, fighting to keep him safe? The idea that he might be alone in the dark, hurting and afraid, twisted my gut. Every instinct I had screamed to check on him, but I knew the risk. We had to give him space until he calmed down and accepted he was safe with us.
“He needs stuff,” I said, and somehow the words, or how I said them, struck a chord. “He’s staying in that room, he feels safe, he needs… fuck… a bed… blankets...”
Everyone stared at me for a beat, as if I’d said something profound. For a second, I wondered if they’d even heard me right. I’d never been the one with the answers—not like Logan with his calm, or Rio with his fists, or Jamie with his fire. I’d given up on fixing things and became the man who stayed in the background. But this time, I’d spoken up, and they’d listened. Were they responding to the fear in my voice?
Rio nodded sharply and grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Come on,” he muttered. “We’ll get the cot.”
“Pillows and blankets,” Jamie added.
Without another word, the two of them headed upstairs and I watched them go, their footsteps fading on the stairs. That left me and Logan.
“You okay?” Logan asked, his voice gentle.
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes drifted back to the closed door. “I just…” I swallowed hard. “I hate that he’s in there alone.”
“Catch me up. You found him in the alley, and he was breathing, but hurt.”
