Never Cross the Back-Gate Guard

Chapter 006

Lena and Briggs stared at the armchair in tense anticipation.

Slowly, General Kane placed his hands on the armrests and stood up. Instead of swaying, he planted his feet shoulder-width apart, rolled his shoulders, and smoothly launched into a crisp, ten-minute close-quarters combat conditioning drill—his strikes snapping through the air with steady, balanced power.

By the time he finished and exhaled a long breath, his cheeks were flushed with healthy color and his stance was rock-solid.

Lena’s dark eyes widened, a new layer of respect replacing her earlier curiosity as she looked at Cole.

Alistair threw his head back and laughed, his voice booming through the living room with renewed vigor. “No wonder they call The Surgeon a miracle worker! His disciple really inherited the old man’s hands!”

Both Lena and Briggs froze. He’s The Surgeon’s apprentice? In the upper echelons of the intelligence and military worlds, The Surgeon was a phantom—a medical savant whom heads of state begged for a consultation.

Cole inclined his head modestly. “You flatter me, General. Being able to be of service to you is an honor in itself.” Men like Alistair Kane were national pillars; as long as he was breathing, certain foreign syndicates wouldn’t dare cross the line.

“Well, I’m a bit too old to go marching back to the front lines,” Alistair said with a grin, turning to his bodyguard. “Briggs, give Talon his consultation f*e.”

Briggs reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a matte-black Centurion bank card, and held it out with both hands, his earlier hostility completely gone. “There’s five million dollars in this liquid account, Mr. Mercer. With the General’s gratitude.”

Five million dollars. With that card in his pocket, Cole could walk back into the Sterling villa tonight and buy Nathan’s freedom on the spot.

Yet Cole shook his head and kept his hands at his sides. “Like I said, treating the General was an honor, not a business transaction. I can’t take your money.”

Alistair blinked, then chuckled. “Stubborn kid. Tell you what—I hold the controlling shares in a local firm here in Havenport valued at around ten million. Why don’t you take it over and run it for me?”

Everyone in the room knew that "running it" meant signing the company over to him outright.

Cole smiled faintly and shook his head again. “I appreciate the generosity, sir, but I just started a new job today. My schedule’s pretty full.”

Lena and Briggs exchanged an incredulous look. Turning down Alistair Kane twice in a row—there probably wasn’t another person in the entire country who would dare pull that off.

Far from being offended, Alistair’s smile only grew fonder. “Alright then, Talon. We all know you didn’t walk up this hill just for the exercise. Tell me what you actually need.”

“There is one thing, sir,” Cole said, his expression turning solemn.

Lena and Briggs tensed slightly.

“Six years ago, when Task Force Wraith was ambushed on that cross-border op, someone inside our chain of command leaked our extraction coordinates,” Cole said quietly. “Thirty of my men died because of that leak.”

Alistair’s face hardened immediately. “I remember the incident report. Do you have a suspect?”

A face flashed through Cole’s memory. “Marcus Webb.”

Every operator in Wraith had been hand-picked and trained from the ground up by Cole himself—except Webb, who had been parachuted in from another command three months prior to the op and had always kept his distance from the rest of the squad.

Alistair turned his head toward his bodyguard. “Dig into it. Immediately.”

“Yes, General!” Briggs snapped to attention.

Cole glanced at Briggs sideways. “Think your people can pull the files within three days?”

Three days? Briggs bristled at the subtle challenge in Cole’s tone. “You’ll have the full dossier on your phone by tomorrow morning,” he bit out, turning on his heel to march outside and make the calls.

Watching Briggs storm out to prove a point, Alistair and Lena both shared an amused smile—Cole had played the proud bodyguard like a fiddle.

“General,” Lena said softly, “dinner is ready in the dining room. Perhaps you and Mr. Mercer would like to continue catching up over a drink?”

“Now there’s a sensible idea,” Alistair said warmly. “Come on, Cole, keep an old man company for a glass of scotch.”

Glancing at the darkening sky outside the window, Cole offered an apologetic smile. “I’d love to, General, but I really do need to track down an old teammate tonight.”

Lena’s smile cooled a fraction. She glided right up to Cole’s side, leaning in close enough that her lips nearly brushed his ear as she murmured, “Don’t push your luck, handsome. Turn the General down a third time, and I might have to take it personally.”

The warm breath and the faint scent of wild orchid made Cole’s ears burn slightly. Before he could cave in and accept, Alistair suddenly slapped his own forehead.

“Damn my memory—tonight is my granddaughter’s birthday dinner!” Alistair laughed sheepishly. “Tell you what, Cole, I owe you a rain check on that scotch. Next time you come up the hill, I’ll introduce you to Claire. You two are about the same age!”

Cole swallowed hard, said his polite goodbyes, and beat a brisk retreat down the hill.

Standing by the bay window, Alistair watched Cole’s figure disappear down the winding drive, his eyes full of admiration.

“General,” Lena asked curiously, “you aren’t seriously thinking of setting Claire up with him, are you?”

Alistair clasped his hands behind his back, gazing out over the city lights of Havenport. “A dragon trapped in the shallows doesn’t stay grounded forever, Lena. Once the wind catches beneath him, there’s no telling how high that boy will rise.”

By the time Cole walked past the outer perimeter of Oakhaven Crest, it was past eight at night. He had originally planned to go straight to see his old spotter, Luke Miller—the vice-captain of Task Force Wraith who had watched his back through a hundred firefights. On the exact day Cole had been sentenced to Ironwood, Luke had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler while home on leave. Given Luke’s superhuman situational awareness, an accidental traffic collision was a statistical impossibility. Someone had tried to erase him.

Turning down a dimly lit side street with no municipal CCTV coverage, Cole suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

“You’ve walked me far enough, Miss Cross,” he called out into the empty alley. “You can head back now.”

From the deep shadow behind a brick pillar, Lena stepped out under the streetlight, her crimson dress swaying gently. Away from the General’s watchful eye, the polite estate director was gone, replaced by a playful, predatory smile.

“Sharp senses,” she purred. “You’re the first person to ever spot me trailing them.”

Before the last syllable left her lips, she exploded forward. Crossing fifteen feet in a heartbeat, she whipped the edge of her palm straight toward Cole’s carotid artery.

Cole’s pupils contracted. Pivoting a fraction of an inch off the line of attack, his hand shot out like a striking viper and locked around her slender wrist.

Lena let out a soft laugh, her free hand curling into a lethal strike aimed straight for his windpipe. Every move was designed to maim or kill.

Cole’s eyes went cold. Holding nothing back, he drove his knee upward like a battering ram straight toward her solar plexus.

Lena gasped, wrenching her wrist free with an acrobatic twist and vaulting backward to create ten feet of space. Brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, she looked at him with shining eyes. “Okay, I underestimated you. No wonder the General thinks the world of you.”

“If we’re done testing each other, I have work in the morning,” Cole said flatly, turning on his heel and walking away into the night.

Meanwhile, across town in an executive suite at the Sterling Textiles dormitories, Julian Hayes collapsed back onto the sofa beside a flushed, breathless Tanya Brooks. Lighting a cigarette, he blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling. “You’re positive Cole Mercer was assigned to Room 104 in the staff wing?”

Tanya kissed his jawline and giggled. “Positive. The housing manager told me himself.”

Julian picked up his phone from the nightstand and dialed a number.