Page 11 of SINS & Lies

“Hey.” I brush a hand on his cheek. His footsteps slow as his eyes meet mine. “I’m thanking you. For rescuing me, Enzo. Don’t be a dick about it.”

The slightest grin tugs at his lips. “Don’t tell me what to do, Bella. And don’t thank me yet.” After a long moment of huffing and deliberation, he resumes his stride.

We hit a clearing where a car is idling ,and a man rushes up to us. He looks so much like Enzo that I’m momentarily stunned.

“Striker?” Enzo asks.

The man checks his watch. “Returning from the deepest part of the ravine about now.” They share a chuckle, and I catch the hint of some inside joke slipping past me.

Enzo nods, pure satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I take it back. Striker’s not worthless, after all. He makes excellent bait.”

They talk as though I’m not even there, and honestly, I’m fine with that. Perfectly content to fade into the background in Enzo’s arms—especially since I’m buck naked under the oversized blazer.

But my brief respite from the spotlight is short-lived.

The man shifts his attention to me and speaks. “So, this is her.”

I blink. “This is who?” I question.

The man’s gaze leisurely drifts over me, a smirk playing on his lips. “The woman causing all this trouble,” he drawls out, his voice oozing allure.

The growl that rumbles from Enzo’s chest is primal. Possessive. “That’s exactly what she is. Trouble. More than she’s worth if you keep eyeing her like a prize cut of steak.”

Really? He’s claiming me now? Because I’m pretty sure if we stick around much longer, Rocco will find us. Especially with these two going at it like five-year-olds playing tug-of-war over a blanket.

Exasperated, I shake my head. “You can put me down now.”

“Considering it looks like your feet have been mangled by a cheese grater, I don’t think so.”

In truth, he has a point. But what’s he going to do? Piggy back me back to Chicago? “I’m a dancer. My feet know pain. Now put me down.”

“Fine,” he concedes, signaling for the other guy to open the car door, which he promptly does.

But instead of setting me on my feet, he slides me into the back seat of the car. The door shuts behind me, and after a few minutes, neither of them gets in, leaving me to wonder what we’re waiting for.

Finally, a man emerges from the woods—someone unfamiliar, with an almost military bearing and reddish hair. He’s wearing strange goggles on his face, which he promptly removes.

After a brief exchange, he climbs into the front seat while Enzo’s lookalike slides in behind the wheel.

Instead of joining us, Enzo remains behind. As soon as the engine fires up, alarm bells blare in my head. “We can’t just leave him.”

“He said to go,” the military-looking one says.

Enzo’s doppelgänger nods. “He said to go.” He puts the car in gear and we’re off. “Rule number one: Don’t argue with Enzo.”

Who’s he telling?

The car pulls away, and all I can do is look back and watch, helplessly, as Enzo disappears into the woods. We round a dense thicket of trees, and a distinct sound jolts me in my seat.

A loud clap in the dark.

Gunfire.

CHAPTER 5

Enzo

I scan the room, then shoot a look over at Dante.

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