Page 59 of Until You Can't

“Yeah,” I agreed with a heavy sigh. “But at what point does the cost of helping become too great?” After hearing chatter downstairs, I quickly ended the call and headed that direction.

Once in the kitchen, I found my mother trying to force-feed Enzo a piece of her homemade bread.

Enzo caught my eyes, and I swiped a hand under my chin, letting him know the bread was non buono.

Mom was a lot of things. Chef wasn’t one of them. And considering that was exactly Enzo’s job, he didn’t need to suffer through a bite of her food.

I really wanted to dislike the guy. But I knew Natalia cared about him, and he’d had my back in the parking lot last night, so I needed to hear his side of things before I made up my mind about him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Thought we could talk out back?” He tipped his head toward the yard. “How’s your head?”

Shit. About that . . .

Mom lowered the bread from Enzo’s face and turned.

“He walked right into a pole. Distracted by looking down at his phone,” Enzo spoke up before I had a chance, a touch of humor in his tone. “You’d think he’d have better navigational skills for a soldier.”

“Sailor,” I said, knowing he was just screwing with me.

“Semantics.” He winked.

“You need to be careful with that head of yours.” Mom grimaced when her eyes fell to my knuckles. I’d forgotten my hands looked a little rough post-fight.

The pole story was officially a bust. She was smart enough to know better.

“Ryan.” She sighed, then focused her attention back on Enzo. She shoved the plate against his chest, determined for him to take it. At least she wasn’t going to pepper me with questions. That was something.

“I’ll, um, have a bite while I’m out back talking to your son.” As Enzo smiled and accepted it, Mom dropped her eyes to the ink on his arms. There was quite a lot of it, similar to my brother’s forearms. Of course, Anthony didn’t have fire, skulls, and what looked like death on his body.

And now I had to wonder what Enzo’s kill count was. Hopefully not as high as mine since I’d always been in kill-or-be-killed situations, fighting with Uncle Sam’s blessing.

Yeah, Enzo was right. We did need to talk. He was around Natalia way too much, and I needed some insight into his backstory.

Once we escaped Mom’s kitchen and were at a safe distance from the house, he said, “I want the photo of that dirtbag you took with your phone last night.”

“That’s why you’re here? Really?” I shook my head.

He closed the distance between us and seethed, “I need to make sure he truly understands what will happen if he ever touches another woman again. Keep him on a short leash.”

“Dial it down.” I cocked my head. “I think he knows. But since you’re here, I’d like some answers. What’s the son of some crime family doing down in Charlotte working in a kitchen?”

Enzo cracked an unexpected smile. “I know that’s not what Natalia told you.”

“She didn’t have to.” I slipped my hand around to my sore back, aching from taking a few body shots from that karate punk.

“My family’s not mafia.” He went to the outdoor trash can near the pool and tossed the bread and paper plate in there before returning. His gaze flicked over to Natalia’s home, focusing on the only window on the second floor. Hopefully she didn’t see us talking.

“Organized crime, then,” I jabbed back with a smirk. “Semantics.” I needed Advil to deal with both him and my head pain. “I don’t want you near her if you’re dangerous. What happens if someone from your past comes after her because of you, and I’m already gone? Not here to keep her safe.”

“Gone?” The soft voice behind me sent chills creeping up my spine.

Natalia got the drop on me yet again, and Enzo didn’t warn me she was coming. Asshole.

I slowly turned to see Natalia standing near the gate armed with two mugs of coffee, presumably for the both of us. She stalked closer, frowning.

“Here.” She shoved the cup at my chest, nearly spilling it on me. If looks could kill. “Enzo stopped by my house. Told me he’d be here,” she explained while handing him a cup as well, much more gently. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you two to be left alone.” She pointed to my house. “Your mom wouldn’t appreciate getting blood on her patio.”

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