Page 121 of Wicked Rivals

Nothing too powerful, but the small .38 Smith & Wesson would do a fine job on its own.

While removing the firearm and its five rounds from the box, I began to explain.

“This gun has been passed down through the family for generations. It’s the first weapon we all fire. The weapon we use for training. A basic revolver, small enough for young hands.”

I ejected the revolving cylinder and slid the bullets into place, one by one.

Enzo watched my every move.

“I’m not giving this to you to keep. Not until your thirteenth birthday. That’s when you’ll start arms training like every man in this family before you. But I refuse to take you into a dangerous situation like this one unprotected.”

When I sat and nodded, Enzo dutifully approached. I took his hand and pulled him to me, positioning him between my knees. Then I turned him around, so we faced the same direction, and I could direct the next steps over his shoulder with my arms around him.

I handed Enzo the revolver.

“It's heavier than I thought it would be,” he said.

“Yes, they’re very heavy. So is the damage they can do. Remember that. I don't want you to use this. It’s a last resort. But if you must, you need to know how.”

I quickly but thoroughly ran him through the basics—how to hold the weapon in both hands by its polished wooden grip, how to aim, how to draw back the hammer, and fire if necessary.

“Where do I put it?” he asked.

“For now, just this once, we're going to tuck it into the back of your waistband. When you're older, we'll get you properly fitted for a holster.”

I reached into the box and grabbed the switchblade with the matching wood handle.

“Do you know how to use this?”

He nodded, but I had my doubts.

“Put it in your front pocket and don't take it out unless you absolutely must. And remember, we never tell your mother.”

Enzo nodded, turned the knife over once in his hand, and slid it into his pocket.

Then I got up and hurried to the armoire to grab a clean shirt and a leather shoulder holster. In the mirror mounted on the inside of the open armoire door, I watched Enzo watching me arm myself. He didn’t say a word.

When I finished, I had several firearms strapped to my body and three knives. I didn't know what to expect, so I had to be prepared for anything.

As soon as I put on my jacket, concealing my weapons, we needed to move.

“Are you ready to go get our girl back?” I asked Enzo.

He gave me a small smile as he nodded.

The simple gesture coming from this child, my child, stoked a gentle and unfamiliar warmth in my chest.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and we headed downstairs.

Tony already sat behind the wheel, waiting near the front door. Enzo and I hopped into the back, closed the doors, and then Tony pulled down the drive and passed through the gate.

Rush hour traffic had decreased, so the ride to Saint Christopher Academy didn’t take as long as it might have earlier in the day.

“Want me to go in with you, boss?” Tony asked. “Or stay here and keep the engine running?”

“Stay in the car for now. I'll call if I need you.”

He nodded, pulled up beside the large concrete stairs leading to the school’s ornate front doors, and shifted into park.

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