Page 55 of Murder & Mayhem

He nods in confirmation. “Yes.”

“You’re one of his men?” I ask, recalling what Dante said.

Enzo quirks a brow. “I am.”

“Dante’s or the Antonellis’?” Because even though I don’t know why, I feel like there’s a difference.

Another weighted silence follows before he confirms. “Dante’s.”

Chewing on my bottom lip as I mull over the minimal information I have, I cast my eyes around the room. I don’t really understand why Dante would bring me here. Why he was at Belle Donne this morning, or why he saved my life.

“Does he know…”

“No.” My gaze snaps back to Enzo’s, and I spear him with a steely glare. It doesn’t matter if he was going to ask whether Dante knows I’m the girl he nearly killed eight years ago or if he knows I’m the Reaper. I don’t want Enzo telling him. “And he’s not going to know.”

A look I can’t place flashes across his face. “Okay.” There’s far too much humor for my liking in that word, but before I can threaten him to keep silent, he asks, “So what happened today then? You obviously did something to warrantthis.” He waves his hand around the lavish prison I’ve somehow managed to find myself in.

I pinch my lips as I frown at him. “Ididn’t do anything.”

He cocks a brow in disbelief, waiting patiently for me to tell him what happened. Eh, what’s the harm? Maybe he can shed some light on who is trying to kill me.

Sighing, I rehash this morning’s events. “I got a call to go to Belle Donne this morning. Something about a payroll issue. When I got there, Dante dragged me into a closet.” Enzo’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t interrupt, even as I fall silent, chewing on my bottom lip in thought before continuing. “It was a setup. We heard some guy on the phone. He… he said he was going to kill me.”

Fear wraps me in its grip as I recall the man’s scathing words, his acerbic tone. I’m sure there are plenty of times in the last twenty-three years when I’ve come close to dying, but none that I ever knew about. None that were an obvious trap meant to catch me.

“What?” The sharp quality to Enzo’s tone as he leans forward, meeting my gaze with an intense, deadpan stare that shakes me out of my panic, and I shove away those pointless emotions, choosing to focus on the hard lines on his face. He looks seriously fucking pissed right now, but I can’t figure out why. Because of something I said? “Who was it?”

“I dunno,” I admit, shaking my head. “Dante wouldn’t tell me.”

The lines around his mouth and eyes only deepen as his gaze drifts toward the floor, his mind noticeably elsewhere.

When it becomes clear he isn’t going to share any of his inner thoughts with me, I decide to ask my own questions instead, hoping I’ll finally get some answers. “How did Dante know? And why would he intervene? Why does someone in your organization want me dead, Enzo?” I focus on the raging inferno of anger burning inside me, letting it scorch away the last of my fear.

Despite the cold expression I’m giving him, Enzo’s features soften. I can still see the rage simmering in his green eyes, but he gives me what I think is meant to be a reassuring smile. “I don’t know, Sawyer.” The use of my real name on his lips startles me, the way it always does when anyone other than Luc says it. I dunno if I’m just not used to hearing it, but every time my name passes his lips, butterflies take flight in my stomach. However, his next words kill the feeling. “But you will be safe here.”

I don’t even realize I’ve been staring at his lips until I have to physically drag my gaze up to meet his eyes. “What?” It takes a second for his words to register. “Enzo, I can’t stay here. I have a life, responsibilities, people… I can’t just disappear.” He’s already indicated he knows about Luc, but I’m still reluctant to actually mention him. Besides, I have more than just Luc in my life now. He won’t be the only one concerned if I simply disappear.

His pretty, pink lips that I was staring serenely at a second ago flatten. “Yeah, and I’m sure you don’t want to lead whoever is after you back to your brother, do you?”

I grit my teeth, refusing to answer him. He damn well knows the answer. “Fine,” I huff out. “But I need my phone back. I need to call Luc so he knows I’m okay.”

Leaning back, he slides his hand into his pants’ pocket, lifting out his phone and holding it out to me. “I can’t give you yours back, but you can use mine.”

Not exactly what I wanted, but better than nothing. I take the phone from his outstretched hand and type in Oliver’s number, thankful that I thought to memorize it. When you work primarily off burner phones, you learn to store any essential numbers in your head. If Oliver has any sense, he’ll dispose of his phone after our call. Pressing the dial button, I get to my feet, piercing Enzo with a glacial stare as I move past him, a silent threat to stay here and not eavesdrop. The phone seems to ring for ages before Oliver’s soothing voice answers.

“Yeah?” Just hearing that one word makes me feel a million times better. I’ve no idea how Oliver does that, how he can calm the turmoil inside me with a couple of words or a soothing touch.

“Oliver, it’s me.”

“Red?” There’s a second’s silence before he speaks again. “What number are you calling from? Is everything okay?”

“Something’s happened.”

“Hold on, I’m with Cain. Let me put you on speaker.”

I stifle a groan. I’d been hoping just to deal with Oliver alone. He’s so much more reasonable than Cain, especially given what I have to tell them.

“What’s happened?” Cain barks down the phone.

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