Enzo and the guys had been my best friends. My brothers. But this? Taking her? No. No fucking way.
We pulled up outside their high-rise a moment later, and I got out, locking the door before slamming it behind me. I tapped Frank’s window, and he drove off without letting the guys out.
They gave him a lot of shit, but he was a smart motherfucker. Or psychic.
Didn’t matter at this point. He was family, and I liked the weird prick.
I went up to the top floor after getting past the doorman with a nod. He looked like he was going to piss his pants. So much for security.
I rode the elevator to the top because I knew Enzo. Everything was fucking to the top.
The elevator dinged at the top floor, and I got out. It appeared the entire top floor was his. Good. Less likely that anyone would hear the screams.
I walked to his door and tapped my bat against it before pushing the doorbell.
“Knock, knock, motherfuckers,” I said, pounding on the door again.
The door opened a moment later, and I was met by Enzo, his dark eyes taking me in.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.
He was tatted the fuck up these days. He looked good. Bigger and stronger. He worked out.
I worked out more.
I kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying across the room, before I stomped inside and began smashing everything in his pretty luxury apartment.
The idiot came to the door unarmed.
Fuck, had he learned nothing?
I smashed E’s piano before my bat met their massive widescreen TV.
“What the fuck?” Enzo shouted, getting to his feet and rushing at me.
I dropped my bat and punched him in the face, sending him stumbling back.
Then I punched him again.
Enzo had always been a good fighter, and back in the day, I’d give him a run for his money, but I’d grown up. I’d trained to take out anyone who hurt my girl.
For every move he made, I only attacked harder. Faster.
Finally, I had him on his back, his nose bleeding.
“Do it,” he choked out. “Kill me.”
“Do you know who the fuck I am?” I snarled at him. I had my sunglasses and gaiter on.
“The big fucking problem E told me about,” he answered, wheezing.
“Did Ethan tell you my name?”
“No,” he said, his voice shaking.
I leaned into him. “I’m Evan. I’m Rosalie’s husband.”
I pulled back and stared down at him. His brows crinkled.
