Chapter Three

“He is one of them! He is an agent!” a voice cried from his back. Cole reached down his ankle to retrieve the small revolver tucked in his ankle holster and strapped firmly under his trousers. And at the same time leaped in a bid to shield himself with one of the ammunition crates as hell broke loose and shots flew around.

Breathing heavily he landed on the concrete floor, in between tall crates, and quickly pressed his back to one, holding up his gun. He felt a certain pain on his side and slipped his hand under his bulletproof vest worn under his undershirt. His hand came out bloodied. He had been hit on the spot not covered by the vest. He cursed, panting heavily.

He saw something small rolled into his corner and his eyes caught the grenade before it could blow him to smithereens. In reflex, he reached forward to pick it up and threw it towards the right corner of the open ground. An explosion rented through the air, and body parts flew everywhere with one landing in between his legs. Cole jerked back hard, sat up, and found himself in his bed.

He cursed loudly from the jolt of pain that tore through him from his side. The pain helped in snapping him out of his nightmare as he gradually accepted he was in his room, far from the location of the incident, and like similar others, had survived it.

He glanced down and saw his bandages had been replaced. Someone had stripped him and he was only wearing his boxers. His massive, muscled chest heaved in the dimly lit room.

"Cole?" Jerome called, and Cole snapped his face up and saw the old man getting up from a seat on the other side of his bed, holding his gun. He directed his gaze to the figure standing by the door and saw Aaron fidgeting on his feet.

"I'm going to kill you," Cole let out an animalistic growl, jerking out of bed.

"Cole, calm down. It was an accident, man!" Aaron quickly said, looking genuinely frightened when Cole placed his feet on the floor and stood up.

With a practiced speed that was almost inhuman, Cole stalked to the door to grab the shorter man by the throat. He landed a brutal blow to his left eye, retrieved the taser gun from his belt holster, stood back, leaving about seven feet in between them, and fired it, directing it to his arm. He watched with satisfaction as Aaron shook like a ragged doll and fell to the marble floor jerking violently. Aaron coughed, drooling as he rolled on the floor groaning in obvious pain.

"Keep the fuck away from me, Aaron! And if you ever point a gun at me again, I'm going to fucking kill you," Cole promised. The other man nodded looking in great pain.

"He saved you, you know. You shouldn't have gone inside the cell of that creature. You know better than to mess with merchandise, Cole Miller," Jerome interjected. Cole directed an angry gaze at the older man.

"Creature? Merchandise? Jerome, that's a human being! What the fuck is wrong with you all!" He saw the older man paused to glance at Aaron on the floor and a knowing look passed between the two men. Cole deduced there was more to the chained lady and it didn’t look as if they were willing to share. "What do you want to do with her?" He asked.

"A client wanted her, and your father already completed the transaction. Her new owner will come to take her away after the funeral. We asked all our clients to give us a few hours to lay Alexander to rest before business commences," Jerome explained.

Cole schooled his features not to gape at the old man. He spoke as if he was giving out a cattle or a horse, not a living breathing human being!

"What information were you trying to get from her?" Cole asked, holding Jerome's gaze.

"I was thinking of letting you have the details after the funeral before we let them have her. But since you asked — in the course of securing the merchandise—"

"Kidnap you mean—" Cole corrected with gritted teeth.

The old man looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and continued, "---while your father and his team were trying to take her, your father was mortally wounded. The one responsible escaped and we want to know their hiding spot."

"I thought by now he would have retired from that—"

"He was retired, but this particular assignment was different. He wanted to be there and see for himself—" Aaron supplied with effort, trying to sit up..

"---and he got himself killed," Cole said. “Why wasn’t I told how he died?”

“You didn’t ask,” Jerome replied and a bit of that exasperation showed in the old man’s face again.

“I’m asking now!” Cole replied in a low steely tone.

“As Aaron said, he was wounded in the raid… I mean in the course of securing the merchandise,” Jerome replied. Cole’s eyes narrowed, watching the older man keenly he had a gut feeling a chunk of that story was missing. But he intended to get the rest from the girl.

“If you wanted to find her lair, you could have made it easy for her to escape and trail her,” Cole said as he continued to watch the two men, hoping they would let something slip.

"The contract of her procurement and sale has a limited time. Catching her was extremely difficult and we couldn't take any chances. Your father figured we could get her to spill but all our tactics haven't yielded results—"

"Including threatening to rape her?" Cole said and pointedly glared at Aaron. The other man instantly averted his gaze. "Who is your ‘merchandise’ buyer?" he asked, enunciating the despicable word and directing the question at Jerome.

"You can't get involved, Cole," Aaron quickly interjected. Cole darted a fierce glare at the man.

"Did I speak to you, Idiot?" Cole growled. Aaron swallowed hard, his face turned red.

"Antonio Rufus, " Jerome answered, drawing his attention.

"He is the head of a human trafficking ring," Cole supplied with gritted teeth, a deep worry developed inside him.

"We don't concern ourselves with that. He has made the payment and he can do whatever he likes with the merchandise."

The mention of that word again from the old man, and the manner in which he said it, so detached, made Cole tighten his fist.

"Please, rest, Cole. The funeral will begin in—” he paused to check his time, and continued, “---four hours from now. Aaron here will come to get you—”

“I don’t need a babysitter, just tell me where?” Cole snapped.

“The meadow field your mother and brothers were buried in.” Jerome supplied. Cole nodded stiffly.

“I will be there,” he said. He saw Jerome hesitate for about a minute before nodding. Cole held his hand to his wounded side and walked back to the bed.

“A doctor is here on standby if you need medical care. It was dense of you, Cole, to overexert yourself that way, knowing the extent of your injury," Jerome said, making Cole halt his strides. Jerome walked to stand a few inches away from Cole and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before returning his gun. "I know that look in your eyes. I see it every time anyone dares to challenge your father. He made me swear to protect you with my very life. And I did swear despite knowing the same blood flows in your veins. Please, don't make my job difficult. Son, do as you are told, and let's get this over with," Jerome added.

"I'm not going to be your lap dog, Jerome," Cole replied through gritted teeth. The older man sighed.

"No. I didn't think you would," he replied with a wistful smile and left. Aaron followed him out. Cole didn’t relax his posture until the door clicked shut. He let out a deep sigh and placed the gun on his nightstand.

If selling the girl to Antonio Rufus was his father's way of exacting revenge, it was indeed fitting and cruel. Having the detailed information about how Antonio Rufus treats his 'merchandise', the girl was about to literally jump from a frying pan into a blazing inferno. He cursed silently.

The problem was that he didn't think he could do anything for her. Even the federal bureau had been unable to do anything about the bastard despite the kind of resources at their disposal. And his father's men can not afford an all-out war against the man either. It would be suicidal. He hated to admit it, but Aaron was right. He can not afford to meddle in this. The thought of the stunning girl being repeatedly drugged and brutally raped made him flinch.

He paced back and forth trying to think of any way he could help the girl. He knew trying to run off with her would be too obvious. He needed to make sure to act normal and distance his involvement with whatever may ensue which means he was going to need a fall-man. He sighed. Sacrificing one life for another person, even if the person is a stunning female, doesn't seem fair.

But one thing was crystal clear: if he didn't do something now before the funeral when everyone was distracted, she would be—majorly—fucked.