Chapter Thirty-Nine Cole
N o.” Knox’s voice is granite. “You’re not going in.”
“Like hell I’m not.” I check my watch again. Five hours. She’s been with him for five hours.
“Cole.” Knox steps between me and the SUV. “I’ve got two teams in position. Thermal imaging shows three heat signatures on the main floor. We know the layout. My people can handle this.”
“Your people didn’t get her into this mess. I did.” My voice breaks slightly. “This is my fault. I should have told her everything from the beginning, should have known Julian would come after her.”
“Exactly.” His jaw tightens. “You’re too close. Too emotional. In operations like this—”
“This isn’t one of your operations.” I step closer, forcing him to meet my eyes. “This is Sloane. And I need to be the one to get her out of there. I need to look her in the eye and tell her how sorry I am.”
“And that’s why you’ll get her killed,” Knox retorts. “We just got the alert from your case security system. Multiple failed biometric attempts before a lockdown. What does that tell you?”
“That Julian’s getting desperate,” I say, a cold satisfaction spreading through me. “And that Sloane is fighting back.”
Knox’s expression softens slightly. “She’s resourceful, I’ll give her that. But Julian’s unpredictable when he’s cornered.”
“I’ve been waiting five years for this,” I say, checking my weapon one more time. “Five years of watching my back, of building something Julian couldn’t touch, of making sure I was ready when he finally made his move.”
“And now he has,” Knox reminds me. “With her. The one variable you can’t control.”
I hate that he’s right. Julian knew exactly where to hit me. The one vulnerability I couldn’t eliminate.
“Which is precisely why you need to stay back. Julian’s expecting you to come charging in. He’s planned for it. What he’s not expecting is a four-man tactical team that knows every inch of that house.”
I look past him to where his team is gearing up, efficient and silent in the predawn darkness. Professional. Skilled. Probably the best chance Sloane has.
And completely fucking irrelevant.
“Five minutes,” I tell him. “Give me five minutes alone with Julian before your team moves in.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You know I’m going in either way. With or without your help.” I meet his eyes. “But if you work with me, we can use Julian’s obsession to our advantage. He’s waiting for me. Let’s give him what he wants.”
Knox stares at me for a long moment. I can practically see him running scenarios, weighing options. Finally, he mutters a curse.
“Four minutes.” He pulls a palm-size device from his vest. “And you wear this. It’s a tracker with a panic button. You press it, we come in hot. You don’t press it within four minutes, we come in hot anyway.”
I take the device. “The Russians?”
“My team will handle them. You just...” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“When have I ever?”
“You really want me to answer that?” He signals to his team. “Move into final positions. Radio silence from here on.”
He grabs my arm before I can move. “You get her out. That’s your only job. You don’t try to settle scores, you don’t try to be a hero. You get her clear, and my team handles the rest.”
I nod, though we both know it’s a lie. Five years of waiting, of planning, of building toward this moment... Julian and I have unfinished business that goes beyond Sloane, beyond the designs, beyond everything that’s happened tonight.
“One more thing,” Knox says, his voice dropping. “Julian’s men put something in that SUV before you got here. We haven’t had time to check what it is.”
“Probably her designs,” I say, already turning away. “He’ll want to take them when he runs.”
“Or it’s a bomb,” Knox says bluntly. “Don’t get tunnel vision, Cole. Julian doesn’t just want you to show up. He wants you to die doing it.”
I watch them disappear into the shadows around the estate. Professionals doing what they do best. But they don’t know Julian like I do. Don’t know the darkness he’s capable of. Don’t know how many lives he’s destroyed while maintaining that perfect, polished smile.
I check my watch one last time. Almost dawn.
Time to end this.
My earpiece crackles. “Team One in position. First guard neutralized.”
“Team Two,” comes another voice. “East perimeter secure.”
I don’t respond. They’re not talking to me anyway. I’m already moving toward the house, keeping to the shadows of the manicured garden.
I spot the first Russian before he sees me—a hulking figure patrolling the rear entrance. His partner is nowhere in sight. Sloppy. Julian’s standards are slipping.
The man reaches for his radio, probably checking in with his missing comrade. That’s when Knox’s team strikes—quick, efficient, silent. The man is subdued without a sound. I continue toward the house.
Through the kitchen window, I can see two more of Julian’s men hurriedly loading cases into the waiting SUV. Sloane’s designs. My jaw tightens, but I force myself to stay focused. The designs can be replaced. Sloane can’t.
The first floor is empty except for one guard, who Knox’s team has already restrained and secured.
I pause at the base of the grand staircase, listening. There—voices from the study. Julian’s voice, then Sloane’s. The relief of hearing her alive nearly makes me miss the sound of footsteps behind me.
I spin just as the fourth Russian emerges from the shadows, weapon already raised.
I dive for cover as his shot goes wide, splintering the wooden banister beside me.
Before either of us can fire again, one of Knox’s team appears and subdues the man with a precise takedown.
The Russian slumps to the floor, unconscious.
I nod gratefully to Knox’s team member as I step over the incapacitated guard.
Knox’s voice buzzes in my earpiece. “Status?”
“I’m in,” I breathe, keeping my voice low. “Proceeding to target.”
“We’ve got movement at the east entrance,” Knox reports. “Two more hostiles loading cases into a vehicle.”
“Let them,” I say. “Sloane first.”
I make my way down the corridor, staying close to the wall. The gunshot will have alerted Julian. The element of surprise is gone. But so is his patience. He’ll be desperate now, dangerous. And Sloane is caught in the middle.
Drawing a deep breath, I steady myself.
Julian’s been waiting all night for this moment, orchestrating every detail.
I step into the study, the same one where I first met Claire five years ago.
Where I watched her show Julian her latest designs, desperate for his approval.
Where I stood, three months later, as the police asked their careful questions about her accident.
“I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” Julian’s voice drifts from the back of the room. Calm. Controlled. A perfect host welcoming an expected guest.
I follow his voice, each step measured. Not rushing. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me desperate.
Julian stands by the fireplace, drink in hand, looking for all the world like this is a casual social call.
And there, in one of the leather wingback chairs, is Sloane.
Her wrists are bound with what looks like one of Julian’s Italian silk ties.
Her eyes meet mine, and the relief I see there nearly breaks my control.
“Where’s the rest of it?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
Julian takes a slow sip of his drink. “The designs? Already gone. Being authenticated as we speak. Claire’s final collection... it’s really quite poetic when you think about it.”
I check my watch. Time to stick to Knox’s plan.
“You know what’s funny, Julian?” I take a step deeper into the room. “You’ve spent years trying to destroy me. My company. My reputation. But you never quite managed it.”
“And now I have.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Everything you’ve built with her—the designs, the publicity, the perfect power couple—it all becomes part of Claire’s legacy instead. Fitting, don’t you think?”
Three minutes left.
“You still don’t get it.” I take another step. “You’re so focused on the past, on what you think you lost, that you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”
He swirls the drink in his glass. “And what exactly am I missing?”
“How pathetic this is.” I watch his fingers tighten on the glass. “You didn’t just lose Claire. You lost your talent for this game. Five years of trying to hurt me, and the best you can come up with is stealing some jewelry?”
Two minutes.
“Stealing?” His composure cracks, just slightly. “I’m reclaiming what should have been Claire’s. Your little protégée’s work will finally serve a purpose. A tribute to real talent.”
I catch Sloane’s slight head shake. She knows what I’m doing. Keeping him talking. Keeping him focused on me.
“Claire had real talent,” I agree, taking another step. “She didn’t need you to forge her legacy. To fake her designs. She would have hated this, Julian. But then, you never really knew her, did you?”
His glass shatters in the fireplace.
One minute.
“Don’t you dare tell me about my wife.” His polished veneer is gone now. “You have no right—”
“I have every right. I was there, remember? Watched you destroy her, piece by piece. Just like you tried to destroy me. Just like you’re trying to destroy Sloane.” I’m close enough now to see the tremor in his hands. “But here’s what you still don’t understand.”
Thirty seconds.
“What?” he snarls.
“That you’ve already lost.” I smile and watch his expression falter. “Again.”
The first flash-bang crashes through the study window behind him.
I’m moving before the blast, tackling Sloane’s chair backward as the room erupts in light and sound. Her head tucks against my chest as we hit the floor, my body covering hers from the spray of glass.
Knox’s team flows through the window and door like smoke—black tactical gear, precise movements. No hesitation. No warning. I hear Julian shout something, but it’s lost in the breach.
I focus on Sloane, working at the silk tie around her wrists. “You okay?”
She nods against my chest, then lifts her head. There’s a cut on her cheek from the glass, but her eyes are clear. Steady. “The designs—”
“Knox has another team at Julian’s headquarters.” I help her sit up as the tie finally comes loose. “They moved in the moment we breached here.”
“You let him take them.” Understanding dawns in her eyes. “You wanted him to split his men between locations.” She gives me a look. “You made me wait five hours with Boris and Vladimir for this plan to work, didn’t you?”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “I should have been here sooner.”
“You should have.”
I wait for the fury. The rage. But none of that comes.
She touches my face, her fingers gentle against my cheek. “Hey. You came for me. That’s what matters now.”
But then her eyes narrow, searching mine. “Julian said something earlier. About Maya, my old assistant.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
“He didn’t come right out and say it, but...” She swallows. “The way he talked... it sounded like she’s gone. Like maybe he killed her. Chloe had mentioned that there’s no word of her and—”
“Anything’s possible with Julian,” I say, my voice tight. “But if there’s even a chance she’s alive, I’ll find out. And if she is”—I look her in the eye—“I’ll make sure she gets out.”
She nods once, but the silence that follows is heavy.
“I was terrified,” I admit, the words pouring out now. “When I realized he had you—” I break off, unable to finish the thought. “I’m sorry, Sloane. For all of this.”
“I know. I know this was never your plan.” She pauses and appears to shake off any darkness that passed through her eyes. “Are we in agreement that plans aren’t always the best path?” she teases, clearly trying to lighten the moment.
A crash from across the room draws our attention. Julian’s on his knees, Knox’s team surrounding him as he spits curses and threats. The perfect, polished mask is gone completely now. All that’s left is the raw, ugly truth underneath.
He’s not listening anymore, his eyes fixed on the fireplace, on the spot where Claire used to sit and sketch. Lost in whatever twisted version of the past he’s created for himself.
Knox appears at my side, offering Sloane his hand. “Building’s secure. Medical team’s outside if you need them.”
She takes his hand, lets him pull her to her feet. “I’m fine. But my designs—”
“Already recovered.” Knox’s normally stern expression softens slightly. “All of them. Team found them exactly where you said they’d be, Cole. Along with enough evidence of fraud and conspiracy to put him away for a very long time.”
I stand, keeping my hand on Sloane’s back. She’s trembling slightly, though whether from adrenaline or cold, I’m not sure. “Let’s get out of here.”
I shrug off my jacket, draping it over her shoulders. She leans into me slightly, but her eyes are on the horizon where the sun is just starting to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold.
“Not exactly how I planned to spend Christmas morning,” she says quietly, then tenses. “Havoc—”
“Is fine. My assistant is watching him.” I pull her closer. “And I still have those breakfast reservations at Rivers.”
She looks down at her wrinkled and torn dress, touching a large tear at the hem. “Cole, I can’t go to Rivers like this. Let’s just go home.”
“You haven’t tried their cinnamon rolls yet.” I can’t quite keep the longing out of my voice. After the night we’ve had, I need something normal. Something good.
She studies my face for a moment, her expression softening. “Pretty sure showing up looking like this violates every dress code they have.”
“We just survived our own Die Hard Christmas. I think we can get away with being a little disheveled.”
That gets a real smile. “Does that make me Bruce Willis in this scenario?”
“Yippee ki-yay,” I murmur into her hair, and feel her laugh against my chest.
Behind us, Knox’s team leads Julian out in handcuffs. He doesn’t look at us. Doesn’t say a word. Just stares straight ahead as they put him in the waiting car.
“Come on.” I take her hand. “Let’s go celebrate our first Christmas together.”