Chapter Twenty-Eight

Stefano

Present Day

“Keep moving.”

A hard shove at his back sent Stefano stumbling forward through the darkened tunnel—gritting his teeth at the pressure on his knee, he wobbled.

Gunfire and explosions echoed from the way they’d come, but had begun to fade the farther from the warehouse they moved.

“If anything happens to that man in the cage, you’re a dead man walking,” Stefano snapped.

When the explosions sent the foundation of the warehouse rocking, both he and Wild had made a move to escape. Stefano wasn’t fast enough on one leg and in hindsight, he knew now they should have waited. When Dresor’s guard opened the cage door, Wild had charged the man, taking him to the ground. Stefano, with his lame knee, had stumbled to help, but Dresor had reached Wild first and slammed the end of his rifle against Wild’s head before turning the barrel on Stefano.

Stefano was worried about the hit to Wild’s head.

When another shove in the back came, Stefano lurched forward using the dirt wall of the narrow tunnel to keep his balance. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stress his knee and push through the pulsing pain before it completely gave out. But he did know one thing for sure—if he fell, Dresor would put a bullet in his head without blinking and leave him down there for Rossi to find.

He had to keep moving.

“Hurry up,” Dresor snarled.

“Sorry, but you knocked out the guy who could actually walk.”

“Shut up and get going.” The end of the rifle pressed between his shoulder blades.

Straining to see ahead in the crudely made walkway, Stefano put one foot in front of the other on the uneven ground. His hand brushed the dirt along the wall, finding tree roots and knots, but no rocks big enough to grasp and use as a weapon.

A noise behind them found several of Dresor’s mercenaries approaching.

“They’ve entered the tunnel,” the closest perp said.

“Keep them busy,” Dresor snarled and tossed his rifle to the ground before pulling a handgun from the back of his pants. Dresor tightly gripped Stefano by the upper arm and started to move.

With Dresor’s tight grip, Stefano was able to walk more quickly along the uneven ground. He didn’t make it easy for the asshole, though; he took every opportunity he could to stumble and pause. When he felt Dresor reaching the end of his patience, Stefano picked back up his pace. He wanted to slow the prick down, not end up with a bullet in the head.

Gunfire and the sound of men fighting echoed from behind them and Dresor picked up the pace. An odd light filtered through at the end of the narrow tunnel, but Stefano couldn’t quite make out what the glow was from.

Reaching a gate at the end, Dresor shot out the padlock with the pistol. When the thick, heavy chain slipped free, Dresor shoved the gate open and pushed him through.

Stefano sucked in the damp warm outside air and glanced around. His heart was pulsing in time with his knee, and it was all he could do to stay upright.

The odd light had been from a streetlight on a deserted road that ran parallel to the warehouse district. All he could see were massive buildings on both sides. If Dresor got him into one of those buildings, Stefano was as good as dead unless he could get ahold of the man’s weapon.

The grip returned to his upper arm and he was hauled forward along the shadows that clung to the edges of the closest building.

“You’re never going to make it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Dresor.”

“Just keep walking,” Dresor growled, and Stefano felt sorry for the guy when Phoenix caught up with them. Because it would happen.

Phoenix was a force Stefano was sure Dresor had never experienced before.

Reaching the end of one building, Dresor pulled him to a stop and this time, the man pressed the gun into Stefano’s side.

It nudged hard beneath his ribcage, forcing him to look at the guy.

Oh fuck.

Stefano stared into Dresor’s eyes, waiting for the bullet.

A jingle drew his gaze to Dresor’s hand, and the man shoved a key into the lock of a door Stefano hadn’t seen. He kept his breathing steady even though he’d thought his number had been up, and he swallowed several times to keep from gasping aloud.

Dying didn’t worry him, but leaving Rossi to navigate the world alone did.

Using a fisted grip, Dresor shoved him forward into the building. This building had lights running along the top corners.

“I’m serious,” Stefano said when they entered. “The men after you are an elite team of operatives that are trained to handle people like you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, where the fuck are they?” Dresor said with an amused tone of voice.

“Right behind you, you motherfucker,” Rossi rasped.

Relief exploded in Stefano’s chest and the sound of Rossi’s deep, sexy voice sent him stumbling. His knee finally gave way and he sank, not at all gracefully, to the concrete floor.

Dresor’s grip was yanked from his arm and the asshole’s gun hit the ground and skittered across the concrete floor, but Stefano didn’t see how that had happened.

But he took advantage of his freedom. When Dresor lunged at him, Stefano rolled to avoid the drug lord’s reaching hands. When he stopped rolling, Stefano ended up against a stack of what appeared to be rebar.

Snick.

Dresor stumbled and gasped, lurching away.

Stefano took that moment to roll and sit up before slowly easing back against the side of the metal. He closed his eyes for one minute and cupped his hand over his pounding knee.

Snick, snick, snick.

Dresor grunted and from the corner of his eye, Stefano saw the man crawling toward nearby cover.

Snick, snick, click, click, click, click…

When all the bullets were fired, leaving only the repeated snapping of the empty chamber, Stefano slowly rolled his head to the side. He found Rossi standing over Dresor’s dead body squeezing the trigger over and over. Noah stood at his father’s flank, a silent sentinel, with a rifle at the ready.

“Gio,” Stefano whispered and saw the moment his voice snapped Rossi out of the haze of rage.

With a soft rush of sound, Rossi tossed the empty gun and rushed to his side. Sinking to his knees beside him, Rossi gently—as if he were the most precious thing in the world—pulled him into his arms.

Stefano closed his eyes and leaned his head on Rossi’s shoulder.

“Wild?” he hiccupped through a wash of pain.

“Roscoe reported in,” Rossi said, easing back. “He’s awake and on the way to the local hospital.”

“See, I told you it would work,” he said, reminding Rossi of his plan.

Rossi snorted and gave him a squinty-eyed look.

“What?” Stefano tipped his chin.

“Yeah, okay,” Rossi said with a rueful smile and tore a piece of Stefano’s t-shirt from around the hem. “You were right.”

Stefano smiled.