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“He’s a mobster and a serial killer,” Dr. Price disagrees.
I roll my eyes. “So is my whole family. I was raised by mobsters.”
Dr. Price frowns at that, but then he nods, conceding my point. We sat there in silence for a while before making plans for tonight. I told them all the dos and do nots of Enzo. They now know not to pull out a weapon unless there is another threat in the room. They also know he really likes French toast.
So that’s how we find ourselves around the kitchen island while Nox makes French toast at eight fifty at night. I peek around Nox as he mixes eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, and a dash of half and half in a square CorningWare dish about the perfect size for a slice of bread. He’s got a griddle heating over medium heat on the stove. He turns it down just a bit before he dips the first piece of bread.
I watch closely as he coats each piece of bread and places it on the griddle. He glances over at me, quirking an eyebrow. I just blink at him. He’s staring at me like he expects an answer to a question he didn’t ask. He turns back to the griddle and starts flipping them. Before he flips the last piece, he turns to me, holding out the spatula. “You give it a try.”
I hesitantlytake the cooking utensil and step forward. Sliding the flat end under the toast, I turn it over and curse as it falls halfway on the piece next to it. “That’s fine,” Nox says, holding the hand still on the spatula. He nudges the piece down onto the griddle and smiles over at me. “You did it.”
I frown, not feeling like I did it very well. With his hand still holding onto mine, he pulls each piece from the griddle and puts them on the plate. He leaves one piece on, flipping it over. It’s the piece that the French toast I flipped landed on.
He only leaves it there for a minute before putting that on the plate as well. “How about you coat the bread and I’ll flip it?”
I smile because that sounds a lot easier. “Okay.” I scoot around him and pick up a piece of bread. I dunk it in the egg mixture and flip it over before setting it on the griddle. I do three more and then I wait for Nox to flip them and take them off before I repeat the process.
He has me do as many as I can until there’s no more egg left. I’m washing my hands when there’s a knock at the door. I flick the extra water off my hands and follow Dr. Price to the door, where he opens it to reveal a giant of a man.
Enzo is easily seven feet tall and damn scary-looking. With a scar down the right side of his face, he looks the part of a crazy mobster. Yes, I said it. Enzo is just plain ol’ crazy. He steps into the entryway before he begins the methodical process of disarming himself at the door. When he’s taken the weapons off his person, he walks straight to me and pulls me into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, Vivy.” He spins me around in a tight circle before setting me down and letting go, not bothering to catch me as a sway from side to side like usual. “So, who’re these people?” he asks, looking over my head at the other three men standing there awkwardly.
I spin toward them, only worsening my dizziness. “This is Nox, Sloane, and Zane. You already know about Dr. Price.” I gesture at him as he stands close to our side in the small entryway.
“I brought you a present.” He tells me before turning toward the guys, and naturally, his eyes find Dr. Price, assuming he’s in charge of the house. “Mind if I grab it?” He nods toward the table laden with weapons.
Dr. Price shakes his head, stepping toward me as Enzo walks over to his arsenal. “You know, you could call me Cain outside of class.”
It takes me a while to consider that before I nod. If that would make him feel more comfortable, then I could do it. Enzo walks back over with a knife in a leather sheath. Before he even hands it to me, I can tell what it is. “Oh my God. Is that a Mark 1 trench knife?” I ask, taking it from his hand. I run my pointer finger over the engraving on the unique handle.1918 U.S.
I fit my fingers into the brass knuckle grip of the handle and pull the six-inch blade free. It’s a double-edged blade, with brass knuckles, and a blunt point on the end of the handle to bust someone’s skull open. It’s a great weapon for close combat. I glance up at Enzo. “Is it real or a replica?”
It looks practically pristine, but I can’t believe Enzo would gift me a replica with this much pizazz. “It’s the real thing.”
I look up at him. “Did you pinch it? I can’t see you shelling out north of a thousand dollars for a knife, no matter how much I wanted one.”
Enzo’s smile widened. “The job I had in Wisconsin just happened to be a knife collector. He didn’t have anything else you don’t already have back home but some cool butterfly knives, and I know how you feel about those.”
“Only masochists and prepubescent boys use butterfly knives,” I tell him, even though he’s heard me say it a million times. Besides, it’s probably not that true. I just decided I hate them after I cut myself for the seventh time when I was fourteen.
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. Now how about you tell me why I’m not murdering these men? Well, besides your little boyfriend,” Enzo snarks.
Zane’s chest puffs up, then deflates when he realizes Enzo is calling Cain my boyfriend and not him. I ignore his reaction and cross my arms at him. “Nox made you French toast.” I skip over to Nox to link my arm through his.
Enzo smiles, which sounds nice until you see the man smile. It makes the scar through his right cheek more severe and he alwaysshows way too much teeth. He looks more like a Doberman guarding a junkyard than a happy person. “I like you, kid.”
Nox tenses next to me and whispers so quietly that I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear him, “Why does that sound like a threat?”
Zane
Iwatch the giant man devour his second plate of French toast as he talks easily with Viv across the kitchen island. He tells us a few embarrassing stories about her and she complains and threatens to stab him with her new awesome knife that I kind of want to play with. I usually keep things simple with a standard full steel knife that’s weighted evenly and can be thrown. However, now she doesn’t have it out and I have absolutely no idea where she’s keeping such a big knife.
She’s tiny, and all she has on is a pair of jeans and the sweatshirt I gave her to replace the one she lost. There aren’t a lot of hiding places. But now I’m looking at her body and I’m suddenly remembering the way her mouth felt around my cock.
Somehow, I find myself pressed to her back where she stands across from Enzo. The room goes quiet and I look over her shoulder at the guy who has Cain so on edge. He’s staring at the lack of distance between Viv and me, but I don’t really care. She’s mine and the only person who can make me stop touching her is her, and that would only be to watch her from a distance. “Zane, right?” Enzo asks, putting his fork down to turn his dark eyes to me.
I don’t answer, just keeping my attention on him. “Yeah, this is Zane,” Viv answers for me, leaning back into my touch.
Enzo watches me carefully for a long moment before a slow grin curves his lips. His smile reminds me of a shark. He is a killer. I can tell just by looking at him. It’s the same way I knew Viv was just like me when we first met.
