Everything was okay, Martin Cole no longer vengeful, now willing to let things rest.
They had come to an understanding, blame no longer aimed directly at Ironhorse; the target removed from Ironhorse’s back.
Active participation in the fight against the ‘terrorists’ had given Cole an outlet, an opportunity to express his grief,
to release his anger on those who held the most responsibility for his wife’s death. An eye for an eye. The physical fight over, the ‘terrorists’ killed in a dramatic explosion.
Both men indecisive, unsure what to do next. They stood side by side, watching the flames, the heat warming chilled bodies. Seconds turned into minutes.
Sirens in the distance broke the thick silence.
Letting out a deep breath, Cole walked away, back to his van, shoulders slumped, his emotional turmoil not over, still mourning the loss of his wife.
Ironhorse turned his upper body, watching Cole walk away, not willing to stop him. An arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder the last thing Martin Cole needed, his world already destroyed.
It wouldn’t help. Opening the door, Cole got into the van, closed the door, turned the engine over. Hands resting on the steering wheel, gaze lifting, he stared back at Ironhorse.
Cole nodded toward the passenger seat; a passive offer both men knew Ironhorse wouldn’t accept. When Ironhorse shook his head, Cole drove away.
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