Chapter Fourteen

Frost

Present day

When Frost entered the upper level of Barry’s place, one suspect was already knocked out with Wolf standing over the body.

Wolf was fucking fast—hella fast.

A sudden noise from behind had Frost instinctively ducking and when the swing went over his head, he came up and delivered a punch to the man’s gut. When the guy doubled over, Frost sent his elbow into his back. The perp slammed to his stomach on the carpet with a grunt. Once he had the guy pinned, he glanced at Wolf.

Wolf studied him with an unreadable expression in his oddly colored silvery eyes and Frost gave the operative a two-fingered salute before he continued pressing his foot down on the suspect beneath his boot.

“Ahhhh,” the guy groaned when his face was squashed farther into the carpet.

“You got this?” Fear spoke from the doorway. Fear had been a split second behind Frost coming into the house and it had been only the luck of the draw that he had gone right at the top of the stairs while Fear had gone left.

“Yup,” Frost drawled to Fear and pressed his boot harder down on the perp’s face and kept his Glock in the man’s line of sight.

Fear smirked, pressed the device in his ear, and eased out the upper-level door. “We have two suspects in custody.”

“Roger,” Roscoe’s response came through the comms. “Do a sweep of the whole place.”

Frost swept his eyes over the room they’d found the fuckers in. It was a large game room complete with controllers and a wide-screen TV. A pool table sat behind large, comfortable-looking leather couches and a foosball table was nudged against the glass wall that faced the beach. A balcony that ran the length of the house lay beyond the glass, a sliding door open that let in the slight breeze.

It was a really nice room; too bad it was bound to get messy.

Frost glanced back at Wolf, who was now crouched next to the perp on the floor.

Frost suddenly frowned. “Did you kill him?”

Wolf snorted and shot him an annoyed look. “No, but he’ll wish he was dead when he wakes up.”

Frost gave an evil laugh and removed his boot from the perp. He tucked his Glock into the back of his pants and leaned down to growl into the side of the man’s furry face. “You hear that? Your friend’s not dead, so we can just question him when he wakes up. We don’t need you.”

“No hablo ingles!” the man cried out, his extra-long mustache twitching.

Frost didn’t bother with the Glock in his pants. Instead, he pulled the knife from the sheath strapped to his leg. “Well, then you’re definitely of no use to us.”

“No, wait! I know a little,” the mustache guy babbled, eyeing the knife.

“That’s what I thought,” Frost said. Tucking his blade away, he reached down and grabbed the guy by his shirt and pants and yanked him upright. Of course, Frost could have called for Noah, who knew more languages than Frost had fingers, but where was the fun in that?

Frost marched the perp to the wall away from the windows, but he still kept Wolf and the other perp in his line of sight.

Frost never turned his back on a suspect, unconscious or not. He shoved mustache man to the floor and then squatted in front of the guy. Catching the man’s hands, he pulled a zip-tie from his back pocket and cinched the suspect’s wrists together so tightly, the guy winced.

“Should we wait for Roscoe before we question them?” Wolf asked.

“Nah,” Frost said, looking into mustache man’s eyes. “He follows the rules. I don’t.”

Mustache’s eyes almost bugged out of his hairy face and his head swiveled away toward Wolf.

“True,” Wolf agreed, leaning over to check the pulse on the unconscious suspect. “On second thought… I think they’d kill these two trying to get information out of them.”

“Yeah,” Frost agreed. If Roscoe or Storm got ahold of these two perps, there would be no guarantee they’d get any information or just end up with dead bodies.

Frost studied the face turned away from him. He fully expected the guy to start talking, but when he stayed quiet, Frost lost his patience.

He withdrew his knife again and toyed with the tip. The silvery metal gleamed beneath the overhead lights. Mustache man turned his face back, his eyes glued to the blade.

Frost slapped a hand over the perp’s mouth and slammed the knife down into the top of the guy’s thigh. The blade went clean through to the floor and carpet beyond and met wood. Damn it, now he’d need to check the blade’s tip.

The man’s howl of agony was muffled behind his hand. Blood seeped through his pants and into the carpet. Sorry, Barry. Mustache man’s hands came up, scratching at one of his forearms, but Frost barely felt the pain.

But shit, it might get infected. Seth constantly bitched at him how his temper got the best of him.

“Talk,” Frost snarled, removing his hand and knocking the perp’s hands away from his forearm.

Roscoe

He let the wall next to the game room take his weight.

Resting his head back, Roscoe gazed blankly at the opposite wall filled with pictures of Barry and all his friends through the years. His eyes landed on a framed photo of Rossi and Stefano, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, drink glasses in hand, lifted toward the camera. Both men were smiling as if they’d won the lottery. Roscoe silently vowed he’d do everything in his power to bring them and Wild home.

Storm was suddenly there and leaning next to him. His love closed his large hand around his and gently squeezed. The move held him back as the sounds of torture inside the room swept out into the hall.

Both Frost and Wolf had been correct. If he or Storm went in that room, they would have killed both men trying to get information out of them.

“Babe,” Storm’s deep rumble sounded, and he slowly opened his eyes to roll his head sideways.

The whole world felt off without Wild. Not having him by their side was excruciating. It had been that way from the beginning.

They were a triad.

Three against the world. When one was hurting, they all hurt. With one missing, it felt like losing a limb. Although they weren’t legally married, he considered them his husbands and would never, as long as he lived, love anyone else but them. When Storm lifted his hand and brushed his lips over his knuckles, Roscoe cupped his own hand over Storm’s and pressed tightly.

Caleb appeared at the top of the stairs. “Where’s Wolf?” the man whispered, and Roscoe released Storm to jerk his thumb toward the open door.

A sudden sound in the doorway brought all of their attention to Frost.

“Rossi, Stefano, and Wild are being held in a warehouse not far from here by a man named Kyle Dresor,” Frost said, wiping his knife on the side of his pants before inspecting the tip of the blade.

Wolf appeared in the doorway just behind Frost’s shoulder and Caleb moved closer. Wolf cupped the side of Caleb’s neck with a brief grip.

Seth came up the stairs, took one look at Frost, and snapped, “What the fuck?”

“What?” Frost said innocently, sliding his knife safely back into its sheath. He smiled when Seth came forward and inspected the scratches on his arm. “I’m okay.”

When Seth lifted his own shirt to dab at the scratches on his arm, Frost kissed the top of the man’s curly dark hair and nibbled at the side of his husband’s neck.

Seth gave up with a sigh and melted into Frost for a moment before pulling away.

Roscoe ignored the pair. It was just their way, and Roscoe knew from experience that Frost never ever let his brief kisses with Seth affect his attention on the mission, nor vice versa. Both men were excellent operatives.

“Did you find Barry?” Wolf asked, reaching down to link his fingers with Caleb’s.

“We did,” Roscoe said. “He’s pretty banged up, but he and his housekeeper and her son are okay.”

When neither Frost nor Wolf said anything further, Roscoe nodded toward the game room behind them.

“They’re dead,” Wolf said flatly, and pulling Caleb with him, he stepped past all of them to head down the stairs.

That didn’t surprise Roscoe. Wolf was a fucking force. Roscoe stepped to the doorway and looked into the room. It was empty. He swung around. “Where are the bodies?”

“Wolf tossed them over the railing into the dirt,” Frost said, sliding an arm casually over Seth’s shoulders as they both headed down the stairs.

Roscoe mulled that over. He liked the idea of Wolf tossing the men out like trash, but he knew it wouldn’t fly with the local authorities. With a sigh, Roscoe pulled his phone out and sent Dave a quick text message about a cleanup being needed.

After a brief moment, his phone rang.

“Hello?” he said into the phone while holding Storm’s gaze.

“Roscoe?” Dave’s voice came over the line.

“Sir?” he rasped and Storm moved closer.

A heavy sigh came through the phone line and there was a long moment of silence before Dave finally spoke.

“Any sign of them?” Dave’s voice sounded hoarse and Roscoe was reminded that Rossi and Stefano had been his friends for a long, long time.

“No sir,” Roscoe said and silence filled the line.

Dave carried a heavy load and Roscoe felt for the guy. Although Dave had retired as Secretary of Defense, the man remained their boss. As a favor to the current US President, the former SecDef had stayed on as the head of both Phoenix and Pegasus.

“Tell me what you need.”

“We’re going to need help from the locals.” Roscoe’s mind raced and then settled at Storm’s close proximity. “But have them stand by. I don’t want them getting in the way. Things are… tense right now. I don’t want any unnecessary… fatalities.”

God forbid a local cop would get in the way of Phoenix. Not that any of the men would do it intentionally, but if someone got between Storm on his way to Wild, Roscoe couldn’t vouch for the person’s safety.

“I’ll go over the situation,” Dave advised. “I have friends in the Netherlands monarchy. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Just…send help.” His gaze clung to Storm’s.

“I will. Be careful,” Dave responded and ended the call abruptly.

Roscoe lowered the phone. When Storm caught his hand and tugged, Roscoe followed his lover back down the stairs, his mind returning to Wild. Had those fuckers hurt him? Was Wild in pain? Roscoe clenched his cell phone in a death grip and when he reached the lower level, he found the men waiting.

Roscoe took a deep breath.

They had a warehouse to find and there would be no mercy for anyone who stood in their way. And as he gave orders to move out, a silent affirmation ran through his head.

We’re coming baby, hold on.