Page 104 of Wicked Rivals

“Boss. We need to get you back to the house. The doctor’s waiting for you and the boy.”

“I don't need a doctor,” I said. “But I want him to look at Enzo and make sure he’s all right.”

Tony pointed at my arm with a brow raised.

“Hate to argue with you, but it’s best if you both get checked.”

I looked down at my arm.

Blood soaked my sleeve. My stitches had likely come undone. I didn't know if they’d broken apart in the car or if Enzo punched or clawed them open. I hadn't even noticed.

“Fine. Get a crew down here to search this place. If the attacker left anything behind that might lead us to him, I want to know about it yesterday.”

“On it.”

I straightened, picked up Enzo, and held his lanky little body against my chest as I carried him down the stairs and out to the car.

Once we were both safely belted in, I turned to ask him more questions, but stopped with my mouth open.

His hands were red, bruised, either from hitting me or from trying to punch his way out of the wardrobe. He held them clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles were white. And the alarming shade of red had returned to his face.

They were wide now, his dark, familiar eyes, as he stared straight ahead without making a sound.

“Enzo.”

He didn't so much as flinch.

“Enzo,” I repeated, snapping once in front of his face.

Still nothing. No reaction.

I reached over his lap to feel the pulse at his neck. His heart beat a million miles a minute, and he still didn’t move, even at my touch. His skin felt clammy.

Terror struck my gut, my chest.

What if something else had happened to him?

Without warning, he sucked in a raw breath and screamed.

I leaned away from him, but he kept screaming. No words, just earsplitting shrieks as he flailed, slapping and punching and kicking against the back of the seat in front of him.

Unfastening his seatbelt as quickly as I could while trying not to take a fist to the face, I pulled him onto my lap and held him. He screamed into my ear because there was nowhere else to scream as he struggled in my arms, kicking out at anything in the way of his feet.

Until we got him to the doctor, I could only just hold him.

Tony had to yell more instructions into his phone, so those on the other end could hear him over Enzo’s screams.

I didn't give a fuck.

If this kid needed to yell, if he needed to scream and hit things, then he should do it. I understood the urge, wanting to do the same. But I had to be strong.

For him.

And for her.

When we arrived at the house, I carried Enzo straight to my office, where Bruce and the doctor waited for us. Though Enzo had finally worn himself out and now lay like a limp sack in my arms, my ears still rang. I gently put him down on the sofa.

Doc crossed the room, eyeballing my blood-soaked sleeve.

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