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Chapter Five

Dario

Sleep ends up eluding me. I try really hard to go under, but there’s too much anxiety eating away at me. Having Alessio in my arms isn’t helping me relax either. Every time he moves, the feel of his warm, lithe body rubbing against mine makes me hard. It’s nearly impossible to ignore him.

I stay awake the next few hours, listening to Alessio’s soft breaths. I’m surprised he actually fell asleep. He was so wound up, I didn’t think he would. To ignore my arousal, I run the possible scenarios in my head of what will probably go down when Carlo returns.

They’ll all be armed with guns, so it’s essential that we take them completely by surprise. Fishing poles are no match for bullets, unless they never see it coming. I pray my decoy plan works. Needing to trust Alessio to carry off his part is asking a lot of me. Valentino is one of the few people on this earth I trust with my life. But in a few hours, that trust will need to be placed with an omega who wants me dead.

I don’t know what time it is exactly, but I get up off the bed and go to the farthest corner of the room to urinate into one of the empty water bottles. I don’t want to go into battle with my bladder full. When I return to the cot, Alessio is sitting up with his legs over the edge.

He rubs his eyes roughly. “I actually slept.”

“Yeah.” I carefully lift one of the decoys off the ground. “We should probably get things set up.”

He stands. “I need to pee.”

“Okay, then do it.” I lay one of the decoys on the cot. I place it in a sitting up position. I think us sitting up, in fear for our lives, is something Carlo will believe. He wants us scared. He wants us dreading his return. Lying down sleeping will probably seem suspicious to him. I glance at Alessio because he’s still standing there looking uptight. “I thought you had to take a piss?”

“I do.” He bites his lower lip. “It’s just disgusting to urinate where we sleep.”

I straighten, studying him. “Funny how that thought never crossed your mind where I was concerned.”

Guilt shifts through his eyes, but he lifts his chin. “You were my prisoner, not my house guest.”

I squint at his snippy tone. “How about you figure out where to piss on your own?”

“I will.” He scowls. “I was simply curious how you handled the situation. Excuse me if I don’t love the idea of walking in piss.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” I move to get the other decoy. “We’re either going to be gone from this place, or dead in a few hours.”

He swallows loudly and heads toward the far corner of the room.

By the time he returns, I have both decoys staged. I have the smaller one on the cot, and one propped up, as if standing beside it. I pray this fools Carlo and his men just long enough for me and Alessio to do what we need to do.

Alessio eyes the decoy I have propped up standing. “What if that falls over as they’re coming toward it?”

“Hopefully they’ll think I just fainted with fear,” I say sardonically. He laughs, which surprises me. I meet his gaze. “Want to know the plan?”

“That would be nice.” He rubs his hands together, shivering.

I grab two of the fishing rods and hand one to him.

He takes it, fingering the broken tip. “I’d feel so much happier if this was sharp.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” I move toward the stairs. “When they first come down, their eyes will need to adjust to the dim light. My guess is Carlo will hang back and let his guys come down first.”

“What if he brings more men with him today than he had yesterday?”

“I don’t think he will. I think he wants as few as men to know he turned on you as possible. Just like you only brought that one yellow eyed alpha with you. Loose lips sink ships, right?”

“Right.” His lips thin. “I think those fuckers murdered my guy, Enzo.”

He actually sounds upset about that, which is surprising. Alessio doesn’t usually show a lot of emotion. “Were you close to him?”

He sighs. “I’d known him since we were both kids. He was loyal to our family.”

“I see.” He wants me to believe he only cares because Enzo was loyal. I’m not buying it. “Good men are hard to find.”

He nods and murmurs, “He said you saved his life once.”

“Did I?” Was that why he seemed so familiar to me?

“When my father took Nico. Roberto stabbed him. I guess you took him to the hospital.” Alessio grimaces. “And now he’s probably dead anyway.”

“That was him?” I ask.

“Apparently.”

“Maybe he’s alive,” I offer.

His mouth droops. “If he was alive, I think he’d have tried to help me by now.”

“I see.” I don’t really have time to worry about Enzo, but I don’t want to piss Alessio off by seeming overly callous.

When I don’t say anything else, he glances at me and his face hardens. “Anyway, where do you want me to be?”

Glad he’s back on track, I lead him toward the stairs. There are short walls on either side of the stairs. At the edge of each wall there are shallow alcoves where we should be able to hide. Enzo and Alessio were too familiar with the layout of the cellar for me to use those alcoves to my advantage. But Carlo and his men don’t seem familiar with this place. I’m praying that will work to our favor.

“When they come down the stairs,” I say, “I’m sure they’ll look to the side to be sure we’re not standing there. What I’m hoping is they have no idea there are hidden spaces. Either way though, that’s our best option. We have to surprise them or we’re dead meat.”

“If Carlo is behind them, how do we take out the first guys without spooking Carlo back up the stairs?”

“We’ll have to wait until Carlo is down the stairs fully. Then we pounce.” I do my best to sound confident about my plan. The truth is, it’s gonna take a miracle to make it out of here alive. Especially both of us. The odds are not in our favor, but I’m not going to lie around and let them murder me without a fight.

Alessio nods, but he looks uneasy. He’s not stupid. I’m sure he knows our chances of survival are small.

“You think you can handle two of them?” I ask. “Once Carlo is down the steps, we’ll have to move at the same time. We have to be coordinated. I’ll help you if I can, but I need to take out Carlo first.”

Alessio shrugs. “I’ll do my best. I don’t know these guys. Maybe they’re amazing at hand to hand combat. Maybe they’ll kick my ass.”

I scowl. “You said you could handle yourself in a fight.”

“I can. I’ll give it my all. I’m just saying, I don’t know these guys.”

“Don’t go into it with a negative attitude.” I frown, anxiety eating at me. I can’t take on three guys at once.

He opens his mouth, and from his surly expression, I assume he’s going to give me one of his smart ass retorts. But instead, he closes his mouth and nods. “I’ll fight with everything in me, Dario. Okay?”

“That’s all I ask.”

There’s the sound of footsteps upstairs and both of us freeze. Adrenaline starts pumping through me like a tsunami. They’re actually earlier than I thought. I meet Alessio’s gaze and we nod and retreat to the alcoves on the side of the stairs. I press into the small area, heart racing. I’m practically shaking I’m so pumped up for this fight. This is the moment of truth. I’m not ready to die and I hope to god it isn’t my time.

The door at the top of the stairs opens and I hear the thud of boots on the steps. It’s hard to hear over the blood rushing through my head. I grip the fishing pole, praying it does a good job as a weapon. There are so many variables, it’s impossible to feel confident. It’s also terrifying to have to rely on Alessio when I have no idea of his capabilities. We can’t look at each other or communicate, so all I can hope is he has good instincts on when to attack.

I see the two alphas from yesterday reach the bottom of the stairs and pass by. They stop a few feet away, probably waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark, just as I’d hoped. Carlo appears too, although he’s hanging back a little. All three of the men are peering toward the cot at the end of the room as Alessio bolts from his hiding spot, and attacks the alpha nearest him.

With the element of surprise on his side, Alessio manages to spear the guy square in the face. The guy makes a horrifying gurgling sound, and Alessio grits his teeth as blood splatters on his cheek. But Alessio doesn’t hesitate or freeze. He yanks the pole out of the first alpha, and as the guy slumps to the ground, he attacks the second alpha.

Before the first alpha hits the ground, I’m already lunging for Carlo. He lets out a growl and starts to leap for the stairs behind him. I ram the fishing rod toward the side of Carlo’s neck. He must sense my presence because he raises his arm at the last second, and the pole stabs through his upper arm. He screams in pain as I swear under my breath because I missed my target. As Alessio wrestles with the second alpha, I yank at the pole embedded in Carlo’s arm, trying to pull it out so I can try again.

There’s a loud bang as a gun discharges beside me, and I can’t hear for a few seconds. I don’t feel any bullets ripping through my flesh, but I have no idea if Alessio has been shot. However, I can’t stop to find out. I manage to pull the pole out of Carlo’s arm, and I try again to jab it through his throat. The fucker once more manages to block me. With a snarl, I kick his leg sideways and the snap of bone is audible. Carlo screams and goes down to the ground.

I still don’t know if Alessio has been shot or not, and I sneak a quick glance and find him wrestling for the gun. The alpha is bigger than Alessio and muscle bound. My gut churns as I realize the alpha is winning the wrestling match. He’s inches away from blowing Alessio’s brains out. I should just finish Carlo off, but for some reason I’m driven to help Alessio. Swearing under my breath, I dive toward them and shove the gun away from Alessio’s face.

The gun goes off and Alessio looks stunned for one second, as if he’s not sure if he’s been shot or not. I punch the alpha’s head as hard as I can, and he falls down on the ground unconscious. Alessio grabs the gun out of the guy’s hand and he stands over him and puts a bullet in the guy’s head.

I turn back to Carlo, who’s lying on the ground. He’s not making any noises. He’s still as a corpse. I’m about to shove the fishing pole through his skull, when Alessio’s foot slips in a pool of blood. That causes him to stumble into to me, throwing off my aim. I scowl at Alessio, who’s covered in blood spatter and sweat. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get a word out there’s another loud bang from behind me. I swing around to find that Carlo is now sitting up, holding a small hand gun and looking murderous.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

By some miracle his first shot missed us, but then Carlo starts firing wildly. Alessio cries out, and drops the gun he’s holding. Cursing, Alessio cradles his hand as blood drips from his fingers. There’s no time for me to find the gun Alessio dropped. We need to get the hell out of the cellar before Carlo’s aim improves.

I shove Alessio toward the stairs as Carlo fires again. The wall next to my head splinters as a bullet hits it. I scramble after Alessio, fully expecting to feel a bullet rip through my spine. By some miracle, we make it upstairs without dying. Maybe Carlo’s injured leg slowed him down, because by all rights, we were sitting ducks on those stairs.

We burst into the kitchen, and I sprint toward the back door at the end of the room. I expect Alessio to follow me, but he stops next to a body on the ground next to the stove. There’s a big pool of blood around the body, and Alessio kneels down, looking rattled.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl, giving the door to the cellar an uneasy glance. “We need to go.”

“It’s Enzo. I… I think he’s alive,” Alessio mumbles. “I think I saw him move.”

“Are you nuts?” I roar, moving toward him. “We can’t help him even if he is alive. We need to go, Alessio.”

At that moment, Carlo crawls to the top of the stairs, his face is red with veins bulging. When he sees us, he snarls and pulls the trigger. Bullets zing and ping off the refrigerator and stove. I grab hold of Alessio and I haul him with me out the back door of the cabin. There’s a black BMW in the dirt driveway, and I scramble toward it. But when I try the door, it’s locked.

Of course it is.

Bullets kick up the dirt near my feet and I’m forced to abandon the vehicle. Alessio follows me as I bolt for the thick pine trees a few feet away. That’s good because I’m done babysitting him. He either follows me or he’s on his own. I don’t have time to coddle him. This is life or death and I need to save my own skin.

The pine branches whip my face as I hurdle through them and away from the cabin. I hear Alessio behind me. He’s breathing hard and swearing under his breath. I don’t think Carlo is able to follow us, but I can’t be sure. I’m not positive if he crawled up the stairs to throw us off, or if he actually couldn’t walk. Just in case he can walk, it’s best to put as much distance between us and him as possible

I have no idea where we are, so I don’t know which way to run. If I knew the area, maybe I could find a road that would lead down the mountain. But for now, running deeper into the woods is what my instincts tell me to do. If Alessio feels differently, he’s welcome to stay behind and die.

We run for what feels like an hour. My muscles are exhausted, so I stop and sit at the base of a tall pine tree. I feel the trunk against my spine swaying in the breeze, and I close my eyes. Even though I’m in fear for my life, I can’t escape how quiet it is up in the mountains. There’s nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and birds. Alessio grunts as he sits across from me. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at his bloody hand. The fact that he was able to keep up with me tells me it’s probably just a flesh wound. If he’d lost a lot of blood, I think he’d have stopped running ages ago. Adrenalin will only carry you so far.

He’s breathing hard as he looks up. “How come Carlo isn’t dead?”

I avoid his gaze. “Nothing went like I hoped.” I’m frustrated that I failed to kill Carlo, and part of the reason I failed was because Alessio bumped into me. He threw off my aim and now Carlo is alive and still very much a threat. But if I accuse Alessio of being part of the reason Carlo survived, he’ll probably get pissy. I don’t need that right now.

He studies me and then mumbles. “Fucker shot the tip of my finger off.”

“How much of the finger is gone?”

He grits his teeth and holds out his hand.

“I can’t really see,” I say, squinting. “You’re too far away.”

He crawls over, settling next to me. His hip presses mine as he scowls at his bloody finger. “It’s just the very tip and part of the fingernail.”

“It might grow back.” I examine the injured finger.

He scowls. “It might grow back? How? I’m not a lizard.”

“Some scientists did a study a while ago. So long as there’s still nail, the fingertip could grow back. Something to do with nail stem cells.”

He gives a gruff laugh and his teeth are white against his blood spattered face. “I’m shocked you’d know that kind of thing.”

“Why?” I ask, getting to my feet. Being so close to him is distracting. I need to be alert, not thinking about how warm his body is, and how much I like his sweet scent.

He shrugs and also rises. “I don’t know.”

“Because you think I’m just a dumb thug?” I chuff.

“Maybe.” He smirks. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”

“Ha. Ha.” I narrow my eyes. “If the comedy show is over, we need to keep moving.”

“Okay.” He tugs a tissue from his pocket and he wraps it around his wounded finger. “I think the bleeding is slowing.”

“Good, we don’t need to leave a bloody trail for your psycho cousin to follow.” I shove into the thick brush, and all conversation stops. It’s good we don’t talk. I need to think. I’m not sure what to do next because I don’t know the area. I’m a city boy and I’m out of my depth.

We walk until late afternoon. I feel it’s important we get as far away from that cabin as possible. I’m thirsty and starving, but there’s little hope of fixing either of those things. I’m a bit surprised at how well Alessio is keeping up with me. He’s not complaining about his finger or how tired he is. I expected him to be higher maintenance. So far, he’s just rolling with the punches. I’m forced to feel a grudging respect for him.

At one point we come upon a small cabin. There’s no smoke rising from the chimney and no cars anywhere around. The cabin isn’t well kept. There are no flower boxes in the windows, or Home Sweet Home signs.

Alessio comes to stand beside me, peering at the cabin. “Looks deserted,” he says.

“Yeah, but looks can be deceiving.” I’m not sure if stopping here is smart. I have no idea where this cabin is in relation to the one we just left. For all I know we’ve been going in circles.

“We should check it out,” he says.

I meet his hopeful gaze. “Should we though?”

“I’m dying of thirst.” He grimaces. “Maybe there’s food in there, or first aid supplies. I need to clean and wrap my finger.”

“Still, we shouldn’t rush,” I murmur. “Let’s watch it a bit more and make sure there are no signs of anyone living there.”

He shivers and glances up at the sun that’s lowering behind the mountains. “It’s getting colder.”

“I know, but we need to be careful.” I also shiver, giving the cabin a longing glance. “Where are we exactly?”

“How would I know?” He frowns.

I grimace. “I don’t mean our exact location. I mean are we still near Los Demonios, or did you take me out of state?”

“Why would I have taken you out of the state? That would have made it harder for Valentino to find you. I wanted him to find you, remember?”

I meet his green eyes, and find resentment shimmering there. I need to remember we’re not pals or allies. We’re simply working together for now so we don’t die. Alessio is merely biding his time. As soon as he decides he doesn’t need me anymore, he’ll turn on me.

“If not for you and your failure of a revenge plan, I’d be home in my warm bed right now,” I grumble.

“Yeah, and if not for Carlo, you and Valentino would be dead.”

“You’re assuming I wouldn’t have escaped.” I smirk. “If I could get the drop on Carlo, I’d have got the drop on you too.”

His mouth thins. “I doubt it.”

“Of course you do. You’re an arrogant little shit.”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m going to check out the cabin. You can stay out here and freeze your ass off if you want.” He gives me a surly look and moves out of the cover of the trees.

Gritting my teeth, I stay where I am. He’s being reckless. We have no idea if someone is inside that cabin. I’m not rushing into anything. But if he wants to be the sacrificial lamb, he can do that. I’ll just wait and see what happens.

He creeps around the cabin, peering in the grimy windows. Eventually, he makes his way to the back door of the cabin. I watch as he tries the door. He tucks his arm up into the sleeve of the cashmere sweater he’s wearing, and he smashes the glass on the door with his covered fist. He waits, listening, and I do the same. When no one sounds the alarm, he slowly opens the door and disappears inside.

After about ten minutes, I’m feeling impatient. Why isn’t he giving me the all clear? I didn’t hear any noises like he’s been accosted. What the hell is he doing in there? Scowling, I slowly make my way out of the trees. I cautiously crawl around the side of the small house to the back door. When I step inside, I listen. There’s a crunching sound coming from the room just off the kitchen.

Heart racing, I slowly creep to the doorway and find Alessio sitting in a chair with his feet up on a big oak table. His hand is bandaged, and he’s chowing down on a box of dry cereal.

“What the fuck?” I rasp.

He glances over, looking bored. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was safe?”

He lifts one shoulder. “I’m an arrogant little shit, remember?”

“Yeah. And as you’d say, if the shoe fits,” I mutter, going back into the kitchen. I turn on the faucet and let it run for a few moments. Then I bend over and greedily slurp water into my mouth. Once my thirst is sated, I open the cupboards and find one can of beef soup, a dented can of peaches, and a loaf of bread that’s as hard as a log. The soup is two years out of date and the peaches more like five.

I’m starving and decide I’ll try the can of soup. I don’t trust the dented can of peaches. I don’t want ptomaine poisoning on top of all my other problems. I search the drawers but there’s no can opener. There is, however, a rusted steak knife. After a clumsy, swear filled struggle, I manage to open the lid on the soup can. I sniff the soup and it smells okay. The color is off and the vegetables pretty disintegrated. From what I understand it’s okay to eat out of code canned foods, so long as the cans aren’t dented and you don’t have very high expectations of flavor. I just need nourishment. I don’t care about taste.

I search the bottom cabinets and find one small, battered sauté pan. I tip the can of soup and the contents plop into the pan in a congealed blob. I grimace and my stomach churns, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since Alessio grabbed me. It’s imperative I get some calories and carbs in my body, disgusting or not.

I glance around the small area observing dusty yellow curtains hanging half off the rods, and peeling paint. As far as appliances go, it’s not promising. There’s no real stove or fridge, but on the counter there’s an ancient looking Coleman-type two-burner propane camp stove. The odds of the small canister still having propane is slim, but I set the shallow pan on the little stove hoping for the best.

Alessio wanders in, still eating cereal out of the box. I give him a grumpy look as he leans over my shoulder. “How are you going to light that?” he asks. “It doesn’t have an auto lighter thingie.”

I frown, my mouth watering at the scent of the cinnamon cereal he’s eating. “It doesn’t?” I bend down, examining the burner.

He snorts. “No. You need matches for this type of camping stove.” He looks amused, which pisses me off. “Didn’t you ever go camping as a kid?”

“No.”

“Oh, that’s right. You told me your father liked to put cigarettes out on the back of your neck.” His smile is mocking. “I’ll bet you’d kill for one of those cigarettes right about now.”

I grit my teeth. “I didn’t tell you that so you could mock me. You really think a father doing that to his kid is funny?”

“Only because the kid was you.” He snorts a laugh, and nimbly avoids me when I grab for the box of cereal.

“Give me some of that.”

“Nope. This is mine,” he says. “I’m the one who took the risk coming in here.”

“Alessio, I’m fucking starving,” I rumble, advancing on him. “If I can’t cook anything then you need to share that cereal.”

“Eat the peaches.”

“They’ll probably kill me.”

“Oh, well.” He laughs and circles around me. “One less thug in the world is no big loss.”

I growl and grab for the box of cereal again. Unfortunately, I miss.

“You’re such a Neanderthal. What are you going to do, Dario? Beat me up and take my cereal?”

“Maybe.” I hunch my shoulders, inching closer.

He sighs. “There’s a book of matches next to the can of peaches, asshole.”

I stop moving toward him. “There is?”

“Yes. I was just too lazy to heat up the soup.” He rolls his eyes and walks away. “Keep your hands off of my cereal.”

I spin around and head back to the cabinet that had the canned goods. Sure enough there’s a crumpled book of matches in the corner of the shelf. There are only two matches left, but I can work with that. I move to the camping stove, praying there’s some propane left in the little green tank. I turn the knob on the front of the stove and strike one of the matches. There’s a soft hissing sound and the burner lights.

I have to stifle my groan of relief as I watch that little blue flame appear. I rifle through the drawers and find a wooden spoon. It appears to be the only utensil in the kitchen. Figures. Every kitchen in the world has extra wooden spoons. I stir the soup for a few minutes but then the flame sputters out.

“Shit,” I say under my breath. The tank must have been almost empty. It would be foolish to waste the last match hoping to relight the stove. Gritting my teeth, I continue stirring the soup, using what’s left of the heat from the pan. I’m not able to completely melt all the soup, but manage to get it to a thick stew-like state. Even though the soup is old, it still smells like heaven to me. I grab the pan and I start eating straight out of the pot as I stand over the stove.

In the other room I hear Alessio mutter, “Fucking Neanderthal.”