Chapter Fifteen

Stefano

Although unorthodox, his plan to get Rossi to hide had worked.

Dresor’s men rounded both him and Wild up and gave no thought to Rossi. You’d think they’d wonder how he and Wild had been freed, but the bastards appeared too stupid to ask.

When one of the men pushed him, he went down, a harsh cry leaving his throat when his uninjured knee hit the concrete. Wild grabbed his one arm and the bastards laughed when Stefano caught hold of the nearby shelving with his other hand and pulled himself upright. Ignoring them, he continued to move down the aisle with Wild at his side.

They could fucking snicker all they wanted.

He would have the last laugh.

Hell would rain down on this place soon enough.

Stefano’s biggest regret was that he’d had to get physical to get Rossi to see reason. Sometimes, that man was so stubborn, it drove him crazy. He had made the right decision, though. Even now, he felt a huge relief knowing Rossi was out there and coming for him.

Thank fuck they didn’t zip-tie their hands again, maybe they figured there was enough of them to not bother. Either way, having his hands free allowed him to keep his balance as he limped along.

That was until his leg grew weak and his steps slowed to what felt like an agonized crawl.

A shove from behind sent Stefano lurching forward and his knee buckled. Wild caught his arm before he could fall for the second time. Agony brought a rasping breath out of his throat, but he swallowed it back, refusing to let them see how much he was hurting. He suspected a knee replacement might be in his very near future.

When they got out of there.

And they would get out of there.

All of Phoenix was out there searching for them, and it would only be a matter of time before they were found. The unit had some of the most lethal operatives on the fucking planet, plus an expert tracker who was a legend. He could only imagine the rage his team would bring down on this place.

They only needed to stay alive.

“Quit pushing him, he’s injured!” Wild growled, gripping his arm to help him keep steady. When Wild’s muscles corded and bunched, Stefano put out a hand to try and stop the operative, but it was too late. Wild spun and shoved the guard who had pushed him.

“Wild!” he called sharply when another man stepped up behind Wild and sent his rifle into the operative’s back.

The blow took Wild down, but only to one knee. Wild bounced up and sent his foot into the attacker. The guy crashed into the shelving and toppled to the ground. Wild lunged for the semi-automatic rifle that clattered to the concrete, but several weapons thrusting into Wild’s face had him slowly raising his hands.

“Move,” the closest guard snarled and gestured with his rifle.

Wild moved toward him and Stefano draped his arm around the man’s neck, and they both started walking.

They didn’t return the way they’d come, but instead, headed farther into the warehouse. Once they left the stacks of shelving behind and Rossi’s hiding place, Stefano could breathe a bit easier.

In this part of the warehouse, even more light filtered through, to the point it was overly bright. They approached big hanging sheets of plastic and one guard used his rifle to push one part of the plastic aside.

Stefano stepped through, following several guards, and Wild was at his back. Inside was an empty workstation, but he could tell from the equipment that it was the place where the drugs were wrapped.

The wall ahead was made up of a row of windows with a door next to them. As the men approached, the door opened and another guard stepped out of what appeared to be a small office of some sort.

Urged forward, Stefano stepped inside the room with Wild and their ever-present parade of guards. The office was bigger than he’d first thought; it was at least a few hundred square feet.

Papers were strewn on desks, a few computers hummed, and a fax machine popped out paper.

Kyle Dresor was on the phone at the far end of the room behind a desk filled with coffee cups, packets of drugs, and dust. Dresor sent him a glaring look but didn’t end his phone call. Instead, the man waved a hand toward the far corner. Stefano jerked his gaze to the corner, fearing he was going to see Rossi, but found something else entirely.

A prison cage with iron bars.

Eight by ten from the looks of it.

A guard gestured with his rifle and Stefano limped over to the open door and stepped inside with Wild. Hinges creaked and the cage rattled when the door was slammed shut. A guard wrapped a heavy chain around the cage and the door and put a padlock on it.

Stefano kept his face blank.

A padlock? Did they think they were going to keep them in there with a fucking lock? He wanted to laugh at Dresor so badly, but didn’t waste the time. The fucked-up part was that he’d underestimated Dresor. The man had a militia at his disposal. The only thing Stefano didn’t get was—why the hell had Dresor been on the beach pushing drugs on the teenagers? Wouldn’t a man in control of an army that size send someone else? Maybe Dresor liked to be hands-on when peddling his wares.

If they got out of this alive, Stefano was going to take pleasure in putting a bullet in the man’s head—if for nothing else than the fact that one of the fucker’s men had knocked Rossi out. No, maybe he’d squeeze the life out of Dresor and watch as the light went out of the bastard’s eyes. He squeezed his hands into fists.

“Come on,” Wild urged quietly, and Stefano let the operative guide him away from the cage door.

His knee was fucking killing him, so he limped to the bench and slowly lowered down with Wild’s help. Resting his back and then his head against the metal bars, he closed his eyes for a moment. He felt Wild sink down next to him.

“How you holding up?” Wild whispered.

“I’ll live.”

“Rossi is going to be pissed.”

About the shove? Probably.

“Yeah, well, he was being stubborn.”

“You knew there was no way in hell he would leave you.”

Stefano opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at Wild.

“That’s why I pushed him.”

And it hadn’t been the first time he’d shoved Rossi…