Chapter Seventeen

Rossi

Four years later…

December 20th, 1998

“Idon’t want you doing mercenary work.”

Stefano turned toward him from where he was decorating the Christmas tree. The brightly lit tree stood seven feet tall and took up a good portion of the living room. The rental Stefano had secured a few years ago sat in a quiet neighborhood, not too far from the city of Oakland.

“It’s work.”

It fucking sucked—was what it was and Rossi couldn’t get it out of his mind since Stefano had picked him up in a brand new truck. Not that he didn’t want Stefano to have nice things, but mercenary work was fucking dangerous! Stefano was meant for greatness. And Rossi sure as hell didn’t want the man caught in the crossfire if things went south on a job.

Rossi knew firsthand how fast a mission could go bad. He gently pressed a hand over the bandage beneath his shirt that covered his lower right side. The white gauze concealed a deep graze from a stray bullet. A round that had sent him home from the Army a week ago on a four-week medical leave.

He hadn’t needed to take the whole time offered, but wasn’t going to argue. Just the thought of holding Stefano in his arms had him giving the officer an abrupt nod.

Stefano’s white face when Rossi had arrived at the airport told its own story. His lover had been scared for him and Rossi had done everything he could think of to ease Stefano’s mind over the past week, but still, the echo of the fear lingered in the man’s swirling brown eyes.

It was the danger of his job, but Rossi was a soldier and that was what soldiers did—they endured.

It gladdened his heart that Stefano had left the Army a little over two years prior and was out here in Northern California safely living life as a civilian.

Or so he’d thought for two fucking years. Stefano had hidden that from him. He knew that was a bit of irrational thinking because he’d only seen Stefano once in those few years, but they’d talked three or four times a year! The man could have said something, and his silence spoke volumes. Stefano knew he wouldn’t have approved.

And forgive him to hell and back, but he’d be damned if he’d let the man risk his life.

“But you can do so much more.”

“Like what, Gio? I didn’t go to college. Hell, I barely finished high school with a C average because I hated school.”

“Still, you could take night classes.”

“Night classes? Drive to a college at night after working all day and take classes that I neither want nor need?”

“You could,” he argued and placed the piece of garland along the top of the coffee table as Stefano had earlier directed.

“And who’s going to pay for that?” The man looked incredulous and snorted as he hung the ornament on the tree. Grabbing another newspaper-wrapped object from the box, the paper crinkled in the room.

“It’s not that expensive. I could take some out of my pay.”

Stefano’s eyes turned into dark chips of granite. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not taking money from you. Campus courses might not be expensive, but the books are.”

“Now you’re just making up excuses.”

“Fuck you,” Stefano snapped and tossed the plastic red ball into the cardboard box before planting his hands on his own hips. “I’m not making excuses. I’m not interested in going to college.”

“Mercenary work is dangerous.”

“So is Special Forces.”

He felt like he’d been slapped, and glared at Stefano. “That’s different.”

“Is it? What if I said right here, right now that I don’t want you to do Special Forces anymore? That I’m sick with worry every time you leave me? I’m scared to death that you won’t come back alive or that you will and you won’t be the same man. What if I said that?”

Stunned didn’t compare to the way he felt after Stefano’s blurted words.

“Is that how you really feel?” he rasped.

“Yes.”

The word echoed hollowly, but the way Stefano had said it rang out with the truth. Rossi was at a loss for words for a long moment.

Stefano reached into the box and lifted an ornament made of spun glass—one they’d picked out together in a little shop just off base last year. The little snowman sparkled in the Christmas tree lights. As Stefano carefully hung the ornament, Rossi noticed the fine tremor in the man’s hands.

Fuck.

He couldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. It had taken him a few years to get into the Special Forces and work his way into his level of expertise—weapons and engineering. All at the age of twenty-six. If Stefano thought he was going to give that up, he was wrong.

I’m wrong. Fuck.

Crossing the room to Stefano, he stopped when he got close. Stefano refused to look at him and stood clutching a tiny stuffed reindeer.

“Babe…” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you what to do. I have no right. Like you, I’m scared of the work you’re doing.” He swallowed and let out a small sigh before cupping the back of Stefano’s neck. Finally, the man turned to him, brown eyes full of worry and fear.

“So am I.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Stefano squinted and then glanced down at his hip—the material hiding the wound.

“You can’t guarantee me that,” Stefano rasped.

“No, I can’t because it’s the Army. But you can keep yourself safe out here. That’s all I want. If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t have any reason to live.”

“Don’t say that,” Stefano hissed and tossed the reindeer aside to fling his arms around his neck. “I’ll always be here.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“All?”

He frowned and drew back. Too late, he saw the teasing light in Stefano’s eyes before the man slipped away, putting the Christmas boxes between them.

“Well, no… not all.” He swiped at Stefano, but the man was quick and leaped over the back of the sofa, putting the furniture between them.

“You said it.”

“I take it back.” He stalked one way and Stefano moved the other.

“No returns.” Stefano’s chin lifted and those pretty lips pursed with silent laughter.

Rossi moved around the end of the sofa and Stefano laughed and rolled over the back and onto the cushions to scramble away. Rossi swiped again, but Stefano took off like a bat out of hell down the hall.

Fuck, that move hurt and Rossi pressed a hand against his side, but then shook off the pain. Every day the pain lessened—it was nowhere near the level it had been when the bullet had first hit and he’d been fucking lucky to walk away at all.

Rossi hurried after Stefano, rubbing his hands together.

Perfect! This could end in the bedroom, and he couldn’t think of a better place to be.

“Don’t think you’re going to get lucky,” Stefano called. Laughter floated out of the bedroom as if the man had read his mind.

Rossi stopped in the doorway and put a hand on the jamb just in case Stefano tried to make a break for it. But it wasn’t necessary. Rather than run, Stefano was sprawled out like a dark-haired angel in the center of their bed.

Closing the distance between them, Rossi crawled up on the bed and hovered over the top of Stefano. Their gazes collided and held for several long moments and then Rossi dipped his head to kiss Stefano’s lips.

“Promise me you’ll think about it.” Rossi wasn’t the type to let this go. He wanted Stefano safe and sound.

“I promise,” Stefano breathed the words against his lips and tugged at him. “Now get a condom from the nightstand and put it on me.”

“Bossy.”

“Mhmm.”

When Stefano started yanking at his clothes, Rossi reached for the small nightstand drawer.