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With a tenderness belying the carnage surrounding us, Cole shifted the rifle to his back and knelt beside me. From his pocket, he pulled out a knife and sliced through my bonds.
Underneath the chair, Pierce stirred with a moan and Cole raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
“Leave him.” On my feet now, I leaned into Cole, my body rapidly growing heavier as the adrenaline faded. “Let the agency handle him. I do not wish to have any more blood on our hands.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.” Sweeping me up into his arms, he strode through the back door of the warehouse.
Outside, we were greeted by a group of men dressed in all black. Still holding me in his arms, Cole walked straight toward the one who was obviously in charge. Tall, with dark hair and nearly black eyes, he looked familiar, but my brain struggled to make the connection.
“It is done?” the man asked, his accent thicker than my own.
“Yeah. Giorgio is dead. The other man is alive, and my girl here would prefer to keep it that way. Just make sure he gets delivered to the right people.”
“Oui.” Barking orders in French, the man instructed his team to check the warehouse for any other survivors and to transport them for questioning. As the men filed past us, he switched his focus to me, his amusement obvious. “You have caused quite the stir tonight, little one.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
Cole sighed. “This is the man who helped rescue you. Say ‘Thank you’, Adele.”
“Thank you, Adele,” I mumbled, my eyes drifting closed despite my valiant efforts to stay alert.
“Brat,” Cole said with a chuckle. “I need to get her to the plane so we can get these wounds bandaged up and be on our way. You have a handle on everything here?”
“We have it under control, yes. You take care of your little one.”
“Thanks. If you’re ever in the States, I owe you a drink.”
“I think, perhaps, you owe us more than a drink.” His words were heavy with meaning. “I am sure we will be in touch.”
“He means you owe him a favor. Ow! Daddy, stop,” I whined as pain lanced through my skull when he jostled me.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Gotta get you all buckled in. Safety first.”
I snorted. Seatbelts and car safety seemed like the least of our worries given what we’d just been through.
Forcing my eyelids open when he climbed into the passenger seat, I squinted at him through the pain. “Where are we going?”
“Home, baby. We’re going home.”
