Chapter Ten

Rossi

Rossi couldn’t get the fine tremor in his hands to stop, so he tucked them into his pockets. If Stefano happened to notice, he’d tell him it was from the hit to the head. But that would be a lie.

He was shaking because he’d almost lost Stefano on the beach tonight.

When a weapon had been pointed at Stefano’s head, Rossi had lost all reason. He’d charged forward, knocking the weapon up and away. He hadn’t seen the end of the rifle that knocked him out from behind, but he’d felt the pain from the blow before everything went dark.

Silently, he moved closer to Stefano and squatted down to rub at his wrist before pulling him up into his arms again.

“I’m okay, Gio,” Stefano assured him softly, pulling back a bit to gaze into his eyes.

That was when he noticed Stefano favoring one of his knees. “Let me see.” He stooped and examined the knee, gently pressing against the skin, and Stefano hissed. Clenching his teeth, he stood. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, really.”

Stefano could assure him all he wanted, but Rossi wouldn’t be satisfied until he had the man out of there safely. They’d agreed after Stefano’s heart attack that he would stay primarily out of the fucking field. Rossi swallowed back any words of protest and nodded.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said gruffly.

Once they were the fuck out of there, then they could talk.

He would come clean about his fears and he’d promise to be a better man—one Stefano could depend on.

Rossi turned to Wild, who was waiting quietly. “Let’s find an exit.”

Wild gave a flashing grin and tied back his hair with a piece of string he’d found. Rather than speak, Wild gestured to the door and shook his head before walking toward the workbench. Once there, he selected a heavy metal work file. By the looks of it, the bastard cut file was made of hardened steel that was about fourteen inches long and weighed just over a pound. Rossi knew because he had one similar in the garage at home.

Gazing upward, where the wall met the ceiling, he searched for any cameras.

So far, so good. He glanced down at the bench and went for a hammer with a metal handle, hefting it in his hand. It had some good weight to it. He saw a small penlight and snatched that up to tuck into his pocket. Stefano had limped the length of the table but hadn’t found anything yet. Looking at the corkboard behind the workbench, Rossi reached for a ball-peen hammer and approached Stefano, holding it out.

Stefano’s lips twitched. “Why do I get the wussy hammer?”

Rossi smothered his chuckle and shook his head before holding out the bigger hammer to Stefano. The man took the bigger one with a tip of his chin.

Wild ignored them and started moving deeper into the warehouse. Rossi turned Stefano gently around and put him between him and Wild. With an annoyed look tossed his way, Stefano slowly followed Wild. They walked farther into the massive warehouse and reached a part he hadn’t taken the time to explore earlier.

“Wait,” Wild suddenly whispered and Rossi pulled Stefano to a halt.

He followed Wild’s hand when he pointed to something up ahead on the ceiling. There, tucked into the corner, was a camera. They hadn’t passed any other ones coming this far because he’d checked.

A chemical smell drifted on the air and it became apparent why the sudden camera. The device had a blind spot and they were able to get past it. The aroma increased the deeper they moved through the semi-dark building, avoiding a few more cameras, and pretty soon Rossi was lifting his shirt to shield his nose and mouth. With his eyes acclimated to the dimness, he noticed stacks and stacks of pallets filling this section, each with burlap-covered supplies.

Using his penlight, he swept it over a nearby pallet. Flipping off the small light, he slipped it away and using the hand not holding the hammer, he tugged at one of the burlap sacks. Stefano limped back and took ahold of the edge and pulled. With his help, Rossi was able to get the burlap lifted.

Fuck.

Bags of white substance filled the pallet. He drew out the small penlight again and swept it upward. This one pallet of plastic-wrapped drugs was maybe six or seven feet high and looked to be just as deep. And there were several more around them.

“What is it?” Wild came back toward them, his voice muffled beneath his shirt.

“I’d say cocaine.” He flipped the burlap down over the powdery shit and lifted his shirt to cover his nose and mouth again. “Let’s keep going.”

Stefano nodded in agreement from behind his lifted shirt. “Might get lucky and find an alternate exit.”

“I see more cameras,” Wild warned them.

“We have to try,” Stefano replied, and Rossi silently agreed.

Finding a way out was highly probable. Typically, drug warehouses had multiple exits. Rossi was worried about Stefano, though; the longer the man was on that knee, the slower he walked.

Sudden shouting came from the area they’d been held in. Just fucking great.

“Guess the cat is out of the bag,” Wild said and picked up the pace, cutting to the right and toward the wall of the warehouse. Rossi stepped up and pulled Stefano’s arm around his shoulder and lifted, helping the man walk quicker.

While the stacks of drugs had stretched upward, the pallets were only about twenty rows deep. Still, though, the operation, in Rossi’s estimate, would probably sell for billions on the street. Illegal drug trade in Aruba involved transshipment of the drugs through there to America.

Once they reached the metal wall, breathing became easier and a walkway available, as well as more lighting. Here, they could slip beneath the cameras. Instead of pallets with packages of drugs, warehouse shelving sat with their high shelves filled with other supplies.

“Get your hammer out,” Stefano said with a tug, and Rossi gently released him. Without his help, Stefano moved slower, but at least they were moving.

At each aisle they came to, Wild paused and checked for the all clear. It gave him and Stefano a chance to catch up. Rossi had put his back mostly to Stefano so he could watch their flank.

Voices grew louder.

“They’re close,” Wild whispered and slipped into an aisle between two massive shelving units. It was darker off the walkway and, more importantly, they were between cameras. Both he and Stefano moved in behind Wild and again, Rossi kept an eye out for any perps coming in from behind. It wasn’t easy to ignore the sound of running boots growing closer nor the shouts of Spanish.

Rossi knew it was only a matter of time before the fuckers combed every inch of this place and found them.

“Gio?” Stefano hissed.

“What?”

“Climb!” Stefano gestured to the shelving.

“No, I’m not leaving you.” His head jerked back.

“Climb, damn it!” Stefano hissed. “When they catch us again, you can cut us loose. You too, Wild!”

Wild shook his head. “They already think Rossi got away. It makes more sense to have him not be here. They won’t look for him again,” Wild finished calmly.

Rossi didn’t budge; he wasn’t leaving Stefano. “We’ll pull you up!” he growled.

He climbed up to the second tier of the metal shelving and Wild did the same. They reached down for Stefano, but when he put his weight on his leg, it buckled. Stefano hung in their grip trying to get his legs back on the shelf but couldn’t. Pulling free, Stefano landed and his legs buckled again.

“Shit!” Rossi jumped down and lifted Stefano from the floor.

The man’s face was paper white, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Neither he nor Wild had the strength to actually carry Stefano to the top of the shelving.

“We’re wasting precious time!” Stefano said with a strangled hiss.

“Wild, grab his hands.”

Wild positioned himself with his arms hanging down over the side.

“What are you doing?” Stefano growled.

“I’m going to lift you up there,” Rossi said and placed Stefano’s feet on the lowest shelf. Rossi then bent and placed his head against Stefano’s ass and stood to his full height, lifting the man upward. He felt Stefano try to catch ahold of Wild’s hand, but he missed and with a cry, Stefano started to fall backward.

Bracing his legs, Rossi’s arms strained, but he caught Stefano before he could hit the ground. He straightened them and gently lowered Stefano’s feet to the concrete.

“I can’t come down any lower. There’s no shelving low enough,” Wild said, and leaping like a cat, the operative dropped to the ground next to them.

“Go, Gio, hide,” Stefano urged again.

“I agree,” Wild said. “With you loose, we have a chance. If they catch us all, we don’t.”

He heard the wisdom in the words, but everything inside him kept his feet glued to the floor. His eyes suddenly burned and his chest tightened.

“Please, baby.” Stefano reached out and cupped his cheek.

Rossi clenched his teeth, tilted his head back, and drew in a ragged breath. Snatching Stefano close, he whispered into the man’s hair, “I can’t.”

“Go,” Stefano demanded and tore out of his arms to thrust the bigger hammer at him before the man snatched the ball-peen from his hand.

The voices grew even closer, and Stefano reached out and shoved him hard. Rossi stumbled back and tripped over something behind him and went down on his ass. Rolling to his hands and knees, he knew he had seconds to make a fucking decision, and he sprinted into the darkest part of the aisle.

Tucking the hammer into a belt loop in the back of his shorts to avoid it making noise, he grabbed onto a shelf and quickly pulled himself to the top. Pulling the hammer free, he rolled to his back and stilled in the shadows, trying to regulate his breathing.

Raised voices sounded below as Dresor’s men converged on Stefano and Wild. If the amount of guards happened to be fewer than they sounded, Rossi would attack from above. He would have the element of surprise. The cameras weren’t aimed this high, so he wasn’t worried about detection, and he rolled to his side, taking a quick glance over the edge.

Fuck.

He shifted onto his back again. There had to be fifteen or more heavily armed perps. And with Stefano injured, they didn’t stand a chance.

Lying there in the darkness, he heard Stefano cry out. Rage clawed at his throat and he clenched his teeth so tightly, his jaw ached. Staying hidden and flattened took every ounce of will that he had.

Flashes of their life together flitted like a movie through his mind, of Stefano laughing and teasing and loving him. His eyes burned and a sound tried to rip from his throat, but he swallowed it back. With his chest silently heaving, he waited and hung onto Stefano’s wishes.

He had to stay free.

His only hope was to track Wild and Stefano and get them back. He had skills that Dresor’s men had most likely never seen before, and he’d use every single one of them.

One thing was for certain, the drug runner and his thugs had no idea of what was coming.

Easing to the edge, he climbed down and from there, he slipped into the darkness.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tracked down Stefano…