Marcus stared. There wasn't much else he could do. He'd known on some level that Gio was an FBI agent, trained to handle this sort of thing. Seeing it, though, was a whole different story. For a moment, he hadn't been certain that the deadly precision wouldn't be turned on him.

Gio frowned, stepping closer with his gun leading.

"Just a graze," Marcus said, shaking out of his stupor and struggling to his feet. His leg burned like a bitch, but it was nothing a few stitches wouldn't fix. He tore a strip off his undershirt and tied it messily around his leg.

"We need to keep going," Gio said, his eyes scanning the woods. He didn't wait for Marcus to reply, hurrying across the parking lot and into the trees.

Limping after him, Marcus wasn't sure what to expect. Gio was waiting for him just inside the tree line, his eyes sharp and hard as they flitted around, never stopping on anything for long.

"Try to keep up," he said, pushing the underbrush aside and disappearing into the branches.

Marcus followed as quickly as he could, but it seemed like every snag and thorn wanted to dig itself into his bloody flesh. He stumbled after Gio, barely keeping the dark head in sight. Once, he lost him entirely and had to stop, hoping that Gio would come back and get him. He did, eventually.

"There's a deer trail ahead. It'll be easier to move on," Gio said as he appeared out of the brush next to the tree Marcus was leaning on. "Come on." He took the time to loop Marcus arm around his shoulders, helping him limp across the rough terrain.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back," Marcus said, burying his nose in hair made crusty by blood. The silence went on for too long, and his heart clenched.

"Of course I would," Gio said finally, his eyes never leaving the green around them.

After that, he stayed closer, acting as a crutch when they hit difficult spots. It was getting lighter, color and life filtering back into the world. He checked his phone when he had a free hand, but either there was no signal out there, or the gang was closer than they thought.

"We're almost there," he said when they stumbled on a paved crossroad. "It's just past this turn."

Gio opened his mouth to reply, but an engine roared, too close. They scrambled across the road just in time for a pickup full of armed men to go racing past on the highway. It was headed toward the rest stop.

"Fuck," Gio said, his voice flat, emotionless the way it had been when they'd first met. It sent chills down Marcus's spine.

A few minutes later, shouting echoed through the trees. They were running out of time.

They made their way the last two hundred feet in silence. Something about this person, this stranger, made it awkward in a way it had never been with his Gio. But then, how much did he really know about Gio? Was his Gio the mask, with cold, hard FBI Gio the real man? How would he even begin to find out?

The gas station was where he remembered it, more run down, but definitely functional. It was a large building, with a shop and attached garage for emergencies. It was the only tow truck that operated in the area, according to the marquis under the gas prices. The lot was crowded with cars, both for sale and being repaired.

They circled, staying close to the trees, but the way the lot was arranged made it impossible to see anything. His phone still didn't have service, and he was tempted to shatter the damned thing against a tree. What good was it if it never worked?

"Follow me," Gio said after they'd made their way to the back of the building.

There was a door into the store room in the center, and Marcus limped along after him as they made their way to it. The good news was that his leg had stopped burning. The bad news was that it was almost entirely numb, thumping along beneath him like a block of cement. He'd soaked through his makeshift bandage and his pant leg, smearing red footprints behind him with each step. It was going to be obvious where he'd gone.

"Can you pick that?" Gio asked, his eyes scanning the trees. The shouting was getting closer, mingled with the roar of engines echoing off the trees from every direction.

The lock was simple enough, but his hands were clumsy. He'd roughed them up on branches and tree bark, and he fumbled the small piece of wire when he tried to get it into the lock.

"Fuck," he said, his lips thick and bumbling. "Let me try again." He rested his forehead against the door, trying to get his breathing under control. His hand was slick with cold sweat, and it wouldn't stay put on the knob. His fingers refused to grip, the handle sliding out of reach.

Frowning at the beat up metal, he put all his concentration into gripping firmly, but his hand was too heavy, and it slid again. The knob turned easily with it, the door swinging open with a dramatic scream from the rusty metal hinges.

"It's unlocked," he said, blinking at the dim interior. "Hello?"

The only answer was the squeal of tires, more shouts coming up from the woods. With a hard hand on his back, Gio shoved him into the building, closing the door almost all the way and peering through.

Marcus leaned in to see, his head too heavy to hold up, so he rested it on top of Gio's. He smelled good, given everything they'd been through, familiar. There was no trace of the angry stranger if he closed his eyes and breathed deep.

"Get off me," Gio grumbled, pushing him deeper into the gas station.

There was barely more light in the front, the windows papered with ads and signs that made it impossible to see. There was no one there, but the electronics hummed along happily.

"We should call Carlos," he said.

"There's no time," Gio snapped, then bit his lip, his eyes dropping to the floor. "Come on. They should have first aid kits. We have to go out the front and try to get to the other side of the highway."

Marcus went along without protest, prodding at his useless cell phone. "Why do I even have a cell phone that doesn't work?" he asked, throwing it onto a pile of candy bars near the register.

Gio scooped it up without pausing, disappearing into the rows. Marcus leaned on the counter to catch his breath, blinking the grit out of his eyes. When he opened them again, Gio was kneeling at his feet tying a new bandage to his leg, the fabric still pretty and white. He didn't look at Marcus, but Marcus looked at him. Even with his eyes hard and cold, he was beautiful.

"I'm going to ruin it," he said, trying to untie the white fabric.

"Leave it there," Gio told him. "You've lost a lot of blood."

Marcus left it. "We should go," he said. Gio nodded slowly, biting his lip.

They stumbled through the aisles to the front. Marcus kept glancing back, waiting for the door to burst inward. Nothing happened except the glass door swung shut behind them, and Gio stopped so suddenly that Marcus ran into him. For a long moment, the little omega was all tense, thrumming muscle, then he slumped.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tears clogging his voice. "I love you."

"What?" Marcus asked. He lifted his head and blinked. All those tires and roaring engines they'd heard were here. The lot and the highway, everything he could see, was full of people with guns. Trucks bristling with guns, people standing behind pillars with a gun in each hand. In the middle of the crowd, in front of a sleek sports car, an angry Hispanic man cursed into a phone as he paced.

"Dios mio, brujo. I don't want to know how you knew where to find them, you witch," he said. "Yeah, we've got them." Stalking through the crowd, the omega dragged him into a rib-crushing hug. "You never fucking scare me like that again."

"Hi, Carlos," Marcus said, patting him on the shoulder as he swayed unsteadily. Another body hit him in the side, almost toppling him to the ground. Wearing full camo paint with a really big gun on his back, Cody looked like an extra off of Rambo.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you," he said, slapping Marcus on the back.

Gio was staring at the group, his eyes wide as he took in the gold bandanas and the small pocket of men in military uniforms. "That's Carlos?" he asked faintly.

Marcus nodded. "How did you find us here?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I was going to the cabin, but Teddy, he insisted that I come here instead. How the hell does he do that?" Carlos said, stepping back and gesturing wildly. Cody just laughed.

Gio was pale, swaying unsteadily, and Marcus caught his shoulder, pulling him close. "We fucking made it," he said, laughing a little hysterically.

Marcus pressed his lips against Gio's hair. "We fucking made it," he agreed.

Carlos flicked his fingers, sending men pouring around the buildings and into the woods. He lost count of how many men there were, more appearing every time he blinked. "The Wolves can't be far behind," he told Cody, who flashed a thumbs up before disappearing into the trees with his team. "You guys want to head back to the hotel? You can take my car."

"Yes, please," Marcus said.

"No." Gio pulled out of his arms, stalking a few feet away with his arms crossed. The area was almost deserted, the army of men evaporated as if they'd never been there.

Shrugging, Carlos tugged them along to his car, leaning against the hood. "Your choice. Always good to have backup in this crazy family."

"I'm not—" Gio snapped his mouth shut as a group of Wolves stumbled out of the trees, Thomas Perron at the lead.

Perron hesitated when he saw them, his eyes narrowing as he took in the many cars filling the lot. "Giving up?" he called as he motioned his men forward.

"Hola, Tomas. It's been a while," Carlos said, studying his fingers. There was a smear of blood on the side of his thumb that he scratched at lazily.

"Ramirez? What the hell are you doing so far north?" Perron asked. His men glanced at each other, slowing in their advance. "I heard your old man was denied parole again."

Marcus winced, but Carlos only shrugged. "Haven't heard from him in years, you know that."

"Just wanted to make it easy for me to take you out, then?" Perron sneered. He flicked his fingers, frowning when nothing happened.

"Did you really think that I was here alone?" Carlos said, tilting his head.

Men poured out of the woods, surrounding the Wolves. A few dozen more men in red bandanas were dragged out by annoyed looking Lions and tossed, disarmed, into the group.

Perron watched, red with fury, as the rest of his men threw down their weapons. "What are you going to do? Arrest me? You think I haven't got the Feds in my pocket? I'll be back on the streets before you even get home to your lovely baby boys," he said, spitting on the concrete. "I have—"

"You are an idiot, you hear me? I can't believe you got yourself shot."

Everyone paused, even Perron turning to watch as two bedraggled figures made their way up the shoulder of the highway. Skin prickling with relief, Marcus stared at the two of them until his eyes burned, afraid they were a mirage. Both of them were maskless, their clothes stained with blood and dirt as they shuffled along the gravel. Chuy had lost his jacket at some point, his bristling arsenal of weapons glinting from an unsettling number of freshly exposed places.

"They were gonna shoot Gio," Victor said, wincing as Chuy grabbed him by the ear, dragging him down to glare at him. His injured shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged, only the tiniest bit of blood seeping through the gauze.

"So instead you got yourself shot. Do you know what kind of idiot gets himself shot? A dead one. You're gonna get yourself dead, and then the boss is going to make me watch the hookers all by myself." Releasing him, Chuy stomped across the pavement until he was standing next to Carlos. "I'm not guarding the hookers," he said loudly, turning his back on Victor.

Marcus burst out laughing, muffling the slightly hysterical sound with his hand. "You two," he whispered.

"But I like the hookers," Victor whined.

Chuy exploded into motion, standing on his toes to get up in Victor's face. "I. Know. You never neglect an opportunity to tell me how much you like the hookers. 'They cook good, Chuy.' 'They smell nice, Chuy.' 'They have great stories, Chuy.' Why don't you just go hang out with the hookers and stop getting the rest of us in trouble?" he snapped.

Victor stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "I like you, too," he said, pressing his lips to the omega's. Chuy didn't hesitate for a moment, winding his fingers through Victor's dark hair and locking them together.

"Fucking finally," Carlos said, throwing his hands in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus could see money changing hands all over the lot. "Are we done here?"

"Oh, by all means," Perron said. "The sooner I go into custody, the sooner I can get home to have my dinner. In fact, why don't you go ahead and call now. Use my phone."

Turning his head, Marcus hid a grimace behind his hand, and it turned into a yawn. "What should we do?" he asked Carlos, shaking his head to dispel the creeping fatigue.

Carlos smirked, sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling, high and loud. Chuy and Victor popped apart, their eyes going wide and a deep flush creeping across their brown skin. "Tomas," he said, his smile widening as the five members of Cody's team detached themselves from the shadows, "I think you're going to have a very bad day."

"We're clear," Cody said, one hand to his earpiece. "No, I won't go out to dinner with you, Nikolai. This is a favor for Marcus, not me," he added, and even over the hundred yards that separated them, Marcus could feel the strength of his resigned amusement. "He'll meet us at the hotel, unfortunately." He sighed heavily, and one of the other camouflage-coated figures clapped him on the back.

Perron paled, his smug facade melting as soon as he registered the military insignia's on the other men. He recovered quickly, tossing his head and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "Your little toy soldiers don't scare me, Leonito," he blustered.

Carlos ignored him. "So how many did they get? Of Perron's 'friends,'" he asked Cody as the team approached the car. The Lions let them through grudgingly, but they didn't seem to take it personally, grumbling right back.

"Twenty-five or thirty. You know Nikolai, he's not good with details." Pulling off his headpiece and letting it dangle around his neck, Cody shrugged. "Enough." He slung his arm around Marcus's waist, too short to reach his shoulders. "I didn't tell him that you'd gotten shot," he said. "I figured you could use the time to prepare an argument to talk him out of hiring you a bodyguard."

"Thanks," Marcus said ruefully. Now that he wasn't in immediate danger, he wasn't looking forward to everyone clucking over him. He was supposed to be the mother hen in this group.

The news took a moment to sink in, and Perron froze in the act of lighting his cigarette, the match burning down until he dropped it with a curse. His bravado floated away on the smoke rising from the cigarette, and he gnashed his teeth. "I'll kill you, you piece of shit. If El Leon can run a successful gang from prison, then so can I. I will hunt you down and gut you like a dog."

Flipping him off, Carlos popped his neck and yawned. "I'm so worried," he said. "Well," he added, turning to them. "What should I do with him?" It was only when Carlos looked pointedly at Gio that Marcus realized how quiet he'd been.

Gio hesitated, his hand going to rest on his stomach, sticky red smears adding to the mess on the fabric. Swallowing hard, Marcus shifted away from Cody and pressed his hand down on top, smiling weakly when Gio looked at him. For a small second, his Gio stared up at him, a smartass comment just out of reach. Then a door slammed shut, and everything he recognized vanished, leaving a stranger. He was slowly realizing that this cold-eyed man was as much the real Gio as the man he’d shared a bed with.

"My mission was just to find the money," he said with a shrug. "I've done that. A wise man recently told me that the law doesn't like to get involved in gang violence." A cold smile curved his lips as he turned away. "Besides, I need a shower and a piss."

Marcus's hand slid off as he moved away, his mind racing with shock. He couldn't possibly mean to execute Perron, could he?

Carlos watched him for a moment, his eyebrows raised. "I like him," he said, patting Marcus on the shoulder. "Hop into the car, and I'll take you back to the hotel. Everyone's freaking out."

"I was freaking out. I'm still freaking out," he said.

Patting him sympathetically, Carlos gave him a gentle push. "Car. You can go hold the twins till the world stops turning. Be warned, they're teething."

Marcus dragged his feet, his eyes scanning the crowd. There wasn't a trace of sympathy available. Even Victor's jaw was set as he looked at the Wolves. "But..."

"Don't think too hard about it," Victor said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry you got shot."

"I'm sorry you did," Marcus said with baffled affection at the gentle giant’s cold-bloodedness. "Don't do anything that will get you sent to jail, please. I kinda like you two."

He grinned, a goofy expression on his hangdog face. "We like you, too, but don't tell Chuy I said so. He likes to keep his reputation for being a hardass."

"He is standing right here," Chuy growled, shoving the alpha aside. "We'll take care of these guys," he said with the kind of enthusiasm that made Marcus's skin crawl.

Carlos just nodded. "Give Leon my thanks," he said as he climbed into the car. Gio was already in the back seat, his head down as he stared at his bloody hand.

"Will do, Boss," Chuy said, wading into the crowd with Victor on his heels. "Listen up, you dumb fuckers," he said, slipping into cheerfully profane Spanish. He disappeared behind a wall of guns and gold bandanas, but Victor was easy to track, standing a full head over most of the crowd.

"I'm not your boss," Carlos shouted, groaning and slamming the door closed when Victor just waved.

Marcus stood, torn with indecision, with his hand on the door until Cody clapped him on the shoulder.

"I call shotgun," he said, bumping Marcus aside so he could open the door. Up close, his eyes were bloodshot and hard, and his smile had too many teeth over his reddish scruff. "Come on, man. I want a shower, too."

"But..." Marcus ducked his head as Cody forcibly manhandled him into the car.

"Can't say I like it," Cody said, "but I also don't like people trying to kill my friends." He pushed the seat back, locking Marcus into the surprisingly spacious back seat. "Besides," he added as he threw himself into the plush leather of the front seat, "you know if Perron walks away from here, he's going to have a big Russian accident."

Carlos laughed. "Is that what you're calling him now?"

"Suck it," Cody grumbled, whistling out the door. His team, laughing among themselves with a hard eye on the crowd, flashed a thumbs up before climbing into one of the big trucks nearby. The engine roared loud enough to make Marcus jump.

"Seatbelt," Marcus said, fumbling his own buckle as Carlos started the sports car with a purr and the crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Gio was staring at him, and as they roared out of the parking lot with Cody's team close behind, he started to laugh. Then he started to cry, smacking Marcus away when he tried to pull him close.

It was distracting enough that he almost didn't notice the single gunshot that rang through the woods as they turned toward town. Almost.

"Target eliminated," Cody said flatly.