Page 41 of About Yesterday (Foothills #5)

Next time, Cole would have to ask for it straight-up boiling in a thermal mug.

The surprise had bought him half a second. He used the distraction and nailed a closed-fist punch to the nose.

He flinched and shook off the pain, before quickly shifting and grabbing Guillaume by the hair and slamming the asshole’s face into his knee.

Not giving him an inch, Cole stayed on the offensive. His shoulder throbbed, pushing past what his physical therapist would approve of.

Guillaume howled and teetered to stay standing.

If Cole hesitated, he’d be unconscious and in the back of a trunk in seconds. He rotated. Smashed elbow into nose.

Blood already pooling at the base of his nostril, Guillaume moved to protect his injured face.

No mercy, Cole shoved his thumb into Guillaume’s eye socket.

Loud enough to echo off the concrete of the garage, Guillaume cried out.

Another punch to the throat to shut him up.

Guillaume grabbed at his throat as he teetered on his feet, his face red with fury and pain. One eye closed, the other watery, his aim should have been off.

Cole ducked under the first swing.

Guillaume spun and sideswiped a closed fist over Cole’s cheek.

Cole’s head snapped back.

As he struggled to stay upright, Guillaume landed a hit to his middle.

Cole fell backward, crashing to the ground.

He quickly caught his breath, watching as Guillaume tried to reorient himself.

His jaw crunched as he gritted his teeth, pushing to stand before he took another hit. “Give up?” Cole huffed, teetering on two feet and trying to shake off the head-to-toe ache, knowing his cheekbone was going to be huge by tomorrow.

Guillaume turned quickly toward the movement, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

Perfect. Cole pushed past the pain and used what he could. He ran as if to attack, but dodged and skirted toward the concrete post.

Guillaume swung after him, too fucking close for comfort, but it worked. Unable to see clearly, desperate, Guillaume’s fist slammed into the post.

Ankle screaming before he even made the move, Cole smashed a kick into Guillaume’s flank, quickly rotating for a roundhouse kick to the back of the head.

Guillaume’s face smashed into the concrete pillar before he collapsed to the ground, covering his face, protecting his neck, grasping at his side, and staring through swollen eyes at his shattered fist.

No mercy, no hesitation, as he knew he wouldn’t receive any in return, Cole slammed a kick into Guillaume’s middle.

His enemy down, forced into complete defense, Cole knew this was his moment.

He dropped down, knee on Guillaume’s neck and thumb pushing over the other eye, pushing to where he knew the pain would be intolerable, millimeters from rupture.

His stomach rolled that he knew that. That he was capable of what he was doing. He’d fucking quit. End of story.

He was so fucking done. He growled low, “Tell your boss that I’m out.

I am no longer a threat. Contact my employer if you have concerns about what’s coming next.

Arrests, trial, torture, who the fuck knows.

That’ll be up to whoever paid for my services to begin with.

I. Don’t. Care. Leave me the fuck alone. ”

Ruined his fucking day. And it had started so well. He pushed off and backed out of reach, in case Guillaume had more in the tank.

Guillaume whimpered like a wounded animal, his voice weaker than before as he hissed, “I don’t care either, but she’s not going to let you go.”

Cole shrugged and rolled his shoulder to ease the spasm as he backed away, turned on his heel, and strolled down the ramp. He smoothed his coat, checked for blood. Safe enough.

He made his way across the street and back into the coffee shop. Apparently, most of town had caught up on their caffeine needs for now, only a few sitting at tables and one person ahead of him in line.

As he neared the checkout, the barista said, “Antoine, welcome back. Need more caffeine?”

“Yeah. Not so hot this time,” he said, shrugging casually. “That was for my girlfriend. Lots of shopping ahead.”

“Oh, I see. No worries.”

From behind him, two devious assholes smacked him, one hand on each shoulder, just enough to make him recoil from his injuries.

“Antoine. We missed you,” Asher said as Cole turned around.

“A little unfinished business demanded my attention,” he said casually.

Zane folded his arms over his chest, the massive former SEAL as intimidating as Guillaume. But it would take a lot more to rile Zane. “Why didn’t you invite us along? We love a good business meeting.”

While Zane politely drilled him, Asher headed over to the register to put in their orders.

“Honestly, the meeting was impromptu, but I think it went well.”

“Old business?” Zane asked, settling in as he seemed to realize Cole wasn’t going to try to hide anything.

“Thought I’d closed the books on it, but some people just can’t take a hint.”

“Antoine. Here you go.” The barista winked as he passed over the americano. Cole popped off the lid and blew away the steam, his hand roasting at the proximity to the hot beverage.

Zane glanced over at his hand, the red splotches where he’d gotten splashed and snorted a laugh. “Desperate, huh?”

Cole laughed and risked a sip. Toasty but not painful. He tipped a shrug.

“Business concluded?” Zane asked, tense and ready to pounce the moment he had the opportunity. “Or are you expecting a follow up?”

Asher strolled over, stuffing his wallet back in his pocket as he joined them.

“I am hopeful that my message will be delivered and taken seriously, but I’m afraid today’s meeting will only result in a deferral rather than an acquittal.”

“And what message might that be?”

“That I am no longer a threat, that I don’t give a fuck about their problems, and that there is nothing anyone could possibly want from me anymore.”

“Is it true?” Asher asked, worry tight in his typically easy posture.

“One hundred percent.” He glanced around, checking again that Guillaume had come alone, but he knew he had.

Guillaume had been a warning, the man he’d traded some barely sub-fatal blows with, who could easily kill him if he was just a little cleverer.

“I’ll call my former employer and report in, see if they can take care of this.

See about some security until this is settled. ”

“What’d you do to get so popular that someone would follow you here?” Asher grabbed Freya and Zane’s coffees from the counter and passed them to Zane, then grabbed his and Sophie’s.

Shit, he probably should have seen if Trace wanted any. He’d been a little distracted and hadn’t thought of it. He was still new at this relationship thing. He’d have to start taking notes so he didn’t mess it up because he wasn’t any good at this stuff.

Cole nodded toward the door and they wandered out.

If Guillaume was still lurking, at least he’d see that Cole had friends who could fight back, but he sure as hell didn’t want to involve them.

“I should tell you the standard, fluffy story that I told Jeremy and Ellen. But, in case he comes back, you should probably get the, uh, pertinent details.”

The wind rushed over them as they walked down the steps to the street. Sophie and Freya were at the corner waiting while Trace and Haley were heading into another shop. Sophie waved and was about to dash over, but Asher shook his head. Zane’s look was dark, letting Freya know something was up.

They seemed to get the idea and turned into the shop.

“Jeremy and Ellen got the fluffy version, but I hope Trace knows the rest of it?” Asher asked as he plucked the lid off his cup and inhaled the steam as it wafted over the rim of the cup.

“Of course. Even if I wanted to keep secrets from Trace, she’d see right through me.” At the corner, Cole checked that no one might wander by or overhear. “Either of you ever been captured? Interrogated?”

“Fuck no,” Asher said, as if it were impossible. “I mean, Zane and I are lucky motherfuckers, too much so.”

“Ah,” Cole said, hissing a breath.

“I mean, we had plenty of training on it.”

“Well, information extraction was one of my specialties,” Cole admitted. Stalling, he took a long sip, never losing sight of town. “By any means necessary.”

“Shit. That’s special,” Asher said, while Zane’s looked darkened with questions he knew better than to ask.

“Yeah. Well, sometimes, that means deep cover, but even the best of us get captured. Six months in, and I had enough evidence to take down the operation.”

“They caught you trying to get out,” Zane said softly, rumbling low.

“Sure did.” Cole had been pissed as hell, and he knew he was on his own.

Infiltrating the compound had been top level, and he knew without being told that it was a government that had hired the job done, too sensitive to risk their own getting caught, and they’d want to keep their hands clean if something went wrong.

“One way to stay alive is to keep them talking. Gain a little intel while I’m at it.

Be patient, and break out after I’m broken. ”

“Hence why I hear you looked like you’d been beat to shit, run over, and got into a fight with a rabid lion when you got home?”

“Yeah,” he said, not wanting to get further into it.

Fucking hell, how was he supposed to go to therapy?

He’d finally gotten an appointment for two weeks from Monday, and he couldn’t even tell these guys.

“Point is, I gained high-level intel undercover and then fuck, it was death or revenge, so I kept on digging while they… had me in their care. I kept feeding them expired information they couldn’t follow up on until I was dead or could find a way out. ”

Zane’s voice dropped low, his expression dark, and Cole knew Zane may not have done the worst of the worst, but he had seen the worst of humanity and knew how dark it got. “How long did they torture you?”

“Two weeks.”

“Fuck,” Asher mumbled under his breath. “I don’t even want to ask. Don’t want you to have to say it, but—“