Chapter Nineteen

Rossi

Present Day

Fuck.

Rossi was so close to Stefano and Wild, yet so fucking far.

The front wall of windows and the only door leading into the room where they were held was heavily guarded.

From what he could count with all the coming and going, there were roughly thirteen men who stayed in front of the door. The group had rotated to fresh men about ten minutes ago… which meant twice that number and more were in the warehouse.

He sank back against the side of the metal shelf and into his hiding spot. He needed to have a plan before he went through that door. He glanced to the left and then right. Perhaps there were some chemicals in this place? After all, this was a drug warehouse.

The sound of boots scuffing from the walkway had him sprinting into the next aisle, and he climbed up the metal shelf as far as he could go. The platform above him was full and he couldn’t get a grip to pull himself up and onto the top. He froze, clinging to the side as six of Dresor’s militia marched past below him.

After several more minutes went by with no further movement, Rossi eased back down the shelf. Pulling his hammer from his belt loop, he darted from aisle to aisle, keeping to the shadows.

Passing a row of lockers on the opposite side of the warehouse, he quickly and quietly started opening each door to try and find a weapon.

He wasn’t that lucky, but what he did find were clothes. Fatigues, in fact, exactly like those of the enemy. After a few minutes of searching, he found pants, a shirt, and boots that would fit his size. He grabbed the stuff and hurried behind a nearby stack of wooden crates and changed. He felt much better in clothes fit for battle and he pulled a cap on his head. Lifting the hammer, he began working his way toward where Stefano and Wild were being held.

Slowly, he slipped into a thick shadow at the end of a shelf. Something in the dark had the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

He didn’t even see the blow coming.

Something quick and lethal knocked his legs from beneath him and he went down hard. The hammer slipped from his hand and he rolled, coming up. He had just enough time to block the fist coming at his head and then he delivered a blow to the man’s side. The guy grunted and dropped low. Rossi swung out his arms to try and catch the fucker before he could sound the alarm but his hands met air.

Rossi’s cap toppled to the ground and the man knocking him around gasped.

What?

The guy yanked off his mask.

“Dad?”

“Son,” he said dryly and rubbed at his aching spine. He should have known by the way Noah moved, plus the way his son was dressed, that he was with Phoenix.

That just went to show him how much his mind had been on Stefano—of how distracted he’d become with worry.

Noah said nothing and yanked him into a tight hug. Rossi gripped his son hard—overwhelming relief crushed his chest and he had to grit his teeth to keep his shit together.

“Where are Stefano and Wild?” Noah asked after he was released.

“Being held at the end of the warehouse.” Rossi cleared his throat and glanced behind Noah. “Where’s the unit?”

Noah’s grin flashed in the dim overhead light.

“Forget I even asked,” Rossi huffed.

Noah wasn’t called Ghost for nothing. He’d earned that code name through his skills at moving unseen through enemy territory. He was also the quickest with the exception of Caleb. Noah and Caleb were tied in that department. The pair were constantly in competition trying to one-up the other.

“There you are.” Lash and Fear melted out of the darkness and seconds later were joined by most of the unit, minus a few. They were rarely found together during a mission—it was a practical strategy, but they also gained an edge when they came at the enemy from several directions at once.

“What do we have?” Roscoe shouldered through the few men gathered, keeping his voice low.

“We have militia all through this fucking place,” he muttered, thrusting a hand through his hair and tugging the cap back in place.

In the wake of his words, the Phoenix operatives gathered near him disappeared like vapor into the shadows of the warehouse. Oh, he knew they were still there and could hear every word he spoke, but he couldn’t see them.

Roscoe cupped Rossi’s elbow and moved them from the walkway in between two shelves before handing him a nine-millimeter Glock and a small comm device. Rossi tucked the device into his ear and checked the clip on the weapon before he spoke.

“From what I can tell, there are between twenty-five and thirty. Fuck, maybe more.” Rossi described the room with the windows and one entry point where Stefano and Wild were being held in a cage.

“Wait, did you say a cage?” Storm’s low, whispering rumble came from behind Roscoe. Rossi hadn’t even noticed the big man slipping through the shadows. Come to think of it, this part of the warehouse was super dark except for that single light in the walkway.

“Have you guys been taking out the lights?”

“Yes,” Noah answered him this time, but via the comm.

“Perfect,” he said with a nod. It was something he’d planned to do, but without a weapon, most of the lights were out of his reach. “Did you see the cameras farther in along the ceiling?” He pointed in the direction he’d come.

“We haven’t gotten that far.”

“I’m on it,” Fear’s voice filled the device.

“We did have to dispose of one guard, though,” Roscoe said.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault the guy had to take a piss while I was coming around back,” Quick said.

“If we’re lucky, they won’t find him until later,” Rossi said.

Famous last words.

The shouting from back the way his men had come told its own story.

“Let’s move,” Rossi ordered and began working his way back the same way he’d come—by darting from aisle to aisle.

Noah and Lash had vanished. Storm, Quick, and Jagger were bringing up the rear and protecting their flank.

A shadow overhead had him glancing up to see Wolf, Caleb, and Jordan leaping from shelf to shelf—lights going off as they went. Jordan was turning out to be quite the badass.

Show-offs.

Rossi smirked. Maybe in his hellion days, he would have done that, but not now… now he kept himself safe and usually out of the line of fire—for Stefano. Everything he did was for that man and he wouldn’t change any of his choices.

Except for his fuck up—the one that mattered the most.

And he planned on rectifying his mistake as soon as they got the fuck out of there.

They had Christmas to celebrate.

And they damned sure weren’t going to miss it.