by Michael Todd
“You should see the other guy,” Savage retorted. He still held his left side tenderly as he stepped out of the cell and scowled at the attending officer.
“I did.” He patted the man on the shoulder and ignored the involuntary wince the gesture caused. “Concussion, broken cheekbone, broken nose, and a twisted wrist. A couple of lesions and bruises on his face.”
“That’s… not very inspiring although it sounds about right. Between you and me, it was a fairly one-sided fight. I was lucky the cops showed up when they did. Did you see the size of that motherfucker?”
“I did,” Anderson said. “And you should know that…well, it won’t stay between you and me.” He tapped his right ear.
“Fuck,” Savage snapped. “The cops took my earpiece.”
“I turned it off,” Anja said in Anderson’s ear. “For all they know, it’s only a Bluetooth earpiece. You’ll get it back on the way out.”
The ex-colonel relayed the message to Savage, who still looked like he could use more medical attention. The hacker had told him on the ride over that some first aid had been applied to his injuries after he’d been written up, but it was very unlikely that it would be enough.
“I need to have a chat with the sheriff,” Anderson said. “Courtney said she had the corporate lawyers give him a call earlier today to let him know that you would be released and no charges would be pressed, either by the bar or the giant you fought with. Not that it really matters, but the bartender said that the colossus started it anyway.”
Savage nodded and looked genuinely relieved. “I appreciate it.”
“So do I.” He patted the other man on the shoulder and dragged another groan of annoyance and pain from him. “I’ll fill you in on the details later when we’re not in a police station.”
“Fair enough.”
The two men stepped into the local sheriff’s office. The man in question obviously had nothing against playing to every stereotype possible, having a Colt Army in a frame above his desk, a Stetson hanging from the hat rack, and every kind of cowboy paraphernalia Anderson could think of. These included but weren’t limited to a selection of horseshoes hung over the door, a bullwhip, and pictures of the man himself atop various horses and bulls.
It was a cultural thing, he thought. It had to be. He didn’t judge, of course, but it still felt more than a little cheesy to him.
In Sheriff Francis’ defense, despite the greying hair, the man had the leathery skin and lean build of a man who spent his days off working hard on his ranch when he could. He looked like he genuinely enjoyed the lifestyle and there was nothing bad about that.
“Mr. Anderson, I presume?” Francis asked as he pushed from his seat and shook hands, dutifully ignoring Savage. “I’m sorry for making you come out here like this, but we like to make sure all our bases are covered. We can’t simply release the brawlers without some kind of assurance that they won’t do the same thing again, you understand.”
“Of course. Although I’m sure you understood from that interview you told me about that my man Jeremiah here wasn’t the one who started the brawl.”
“Oh, no doubts about that, with other witness accounts coming in with a couple of Internet videos making the rounds,” Francis replied and chuckled. “I actually had a look at one of the better ones. Your boy here knows his way around his fists.
“He’s had some training,” he agreed noncommittally.
“I don’t doubt that, but at the same time, we need to keep the peace. And it’s like our mothers told us, it takes two to fight.” The man nodded emphatically like he’d imparted an untarnished pearl of wisdom.
“I appreciate you letting him out this soon,” Anderson said, anxious to move the process forward. “Even with all things considered. I think you’ll be notified by the people at the bar that they were monetized for all the damages, including the possible revenue from yesterday and today to be sure. They said they won’t press charges. Everything was done on paper, too—very open and official. Pegasus doesn’t take well to having employees look bad, even if they are outside contractors.”
The sheriff leaned back against the front of his desk before he moved a little to speak in a conspiratorial tone. “You know, between the two—three—of us, I’m not a fan of holding bar brawlers. Of course, they have to pay up, but most of the guys I lock up for throwing fists merely need to let off some steam. In all honesty, with all the gang violence seeping out from the city into our little county here, I’d prefer to leave the holding cells open. Things are getting worse around here, I’ll have you know.”
Anderson nodded and looked appropriately concerned. “Well, I’ll make sure not to take up any more of your time with this business. I can assure you that you won’t hear another peep from Jeremiah.”
“Appreciated.”
“How long do you think you’ll plan to hold the bigger man since he’s the one who’s actually open to criminal charges?” he asked and tried to frame it as simple curiosity.
“Oh, him?” Francis asked. “His bail was posted before he was even admitted into one of our cells. It looks like he has friends in high places around here too, and someone was in a hurry to get him out. He can’t leave town, though, since there will be charges pressed against him by the local state attorney. It’ll only be a misdemeanor, of course. A small fine and maybe a couple of weeks in the slammer.”
“Right.” The ex-colonel straightened and assumed a more businesslike demeanor. “Look, we’ll get out of your hair, Sheriff. Again, I appreciate your understanding in this matter.”
“Any time, Mr. Anderson.” The men shook hands quickly. “But make sure this one stays out of his cups and in a peaceful state of mind, you hear?”
“Loud and clear, Sheriff, loud and clear.” He nudged Savage to exit the room first and they moved quickly to the counter to finalize his release.
“What’d you guys pay him?” the operative asked after they’d stopped to collect his personal effects. “There’s no way a straight-shooter like that lets a couple of brawlers out of jail without some serious palm-greasing.”
“I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Savage,” Anderson said and managed a suitable degree of indignant outrage. “In other, completely unrelated news, Sheriff Francis is running for State Senate next month. While he lacked a little in campaign funds, the shortfall has since been rectified by a handful of very generous anonymous donations.”
“God bless democracy and the legal forms of bribery that come with it.” Savage chuckled and shook his head, a slightly disbelieving gesture he maintained until they were out of the building and headed to where Anderson had parked the company car. “Anyway, now that the only listening ears are halfway across the world…” He paused to put his earpiece in. “Hi, Anja. Now that we’re alone, how about you share what Dr. Chance told you last night?”
“How are you feeling, Jer?” she asked. “You look like shit, by the by.”
“Yeah, Anderson filled me in.” He turned to his boss as the former colonel slipped into the driver’s seat. The man paused and waited for him to groan and moan as he eased himself gingerly into the passenger seat.
“Well, with some help from Anja, I was able to have a nice chat with Dr. Chance during your night in the slammer,” the ex-colonel said and handed Savage’s weapon back to him before starting the car. “He doesn’t appear to be very deep in this. She uncovered a couple of instances of very…interesting spending on his part over the past few years, way beyond his means. It stands to reason that the most terrifying thing in this country is pissing the IRS off.”
The operative chuckled. “People underestimate the relentless pressure tax collectors have in them.”
“Right. Anyway, he was very happy to share the details once I’d uncovered his dark secrets. Well, Anja uncovered them, of course. I merely displayed them. He went through the common lines of ‘I don’t know anything’ and ‘I’m not the one you want.’”
“More cliché than ‘it’s not you, it�
�s me’ and ‘I think we should see other people,” Anja snarked. “It’s like, come on, we know you are bad guys. They could at least put some effort and creativity into their excuses.”
“I hear you, Anja.” Savage grunted softly when the car hit a bump on the road.
“Do you need to have that checked?” the ex-colonel asked. He could make all the Army jokes he wanted, but that didn’t take away from the fact that his companion was a tough guy, to a fault. He would absorb as much pain as he thought he could and treat himself afterward. He wouldn’t complain, but if he winced and doubled over thanks to his ribs hurting at the wrong time, they were both dead men.
“That depends on what we learned from our friend Chance, doesn’t it?” he asked and glared at him like he had a bead on what his boss thought and didn’t approve.
“He said he wasn’t told anything directly and has always dealt with your big friend each time he needed face-time with his handlers. He called him Mr. Kelly, although I’m sure that’s a fake name. Anyway, he said he managed to do some digging into what happened to the items he’d managed to sneak out of the building, and all he could track down was a name—Charles.”
“Which makes it the second time we’ve heard about someone called Charles being behind this whole thing,” Savage replied. “I think I need to find this Charles Stafford and have a talk to him.”
“You’ll have the opportunity when we’re ready,” his boss assured him. “Chance also mentioned that most of his deliveries were done personally and he was consistently directed to a little bar in New Orleans. He always dealt with the same person, although no names were exchanged. Our man would take days off to visit the city every few months, drop a couple of the items off, and get paid.”
“Let me guess, most of Chance’s spending happened in New Orleans?”
Anderson nodded in response. “Chocolate for the smart kid. So, since there’s no real schedule on looking at the bar, how do you feel about getting medical attention?”
The man shook his head. “I should probably have it checked out, I agree, but we can do it in New Orleans. That way, even if I need to be out of action for a couple of days, I can still make myself useful by scanning the place or something. Does that sound all right to you, or will you hover over me like a mama hawk?”
“Sue me for wanting to make sure the grunt covering my back isn’t whining and groaning instead of actually doing what he’s paid to do,” Anderson snapped but with a grin that took the sting from the words.
Savage opened his mouth but seemed to lack an appropriate response and quickly shut it again. The minutes slid by in silence while the two men drove through the barren wilderness outside the metro area of Houston. A couple of businesses thrived here and there in the open spaces. He finally leaned back and laughed.
“Of the three destinations we’ll visit, two are Vegas and New Orleans.” He shook his head with a rueful chuckle. “I’m not saying Courtney will think you’re taking a vacation since she knows better, but the rest of the board will probably want to look at your receipts.”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Anderson replied. “Most of the hinky financial stuff I’ve done has been pulled out of untraceable petty cash.”
“That’s adorable.” Anja laughed. “But seriously, I’ve been careful to make sure you two are covered financially from the board’s perspective on Courtney’s orders. It’s more work than I think you two are really worth financially, but what can I say? You tickle me in a nice place.”
“Well, that’s an image I won’t get out of my head,” he complained.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Savage scowled as he looked around with real distaste. The street was way too crowded for comfort. He didn’t like being out in the open with so many people around him. It made him feel exposed and vulnerable with the overwhelming barrage of bodies, sounds, shapes, and colors that flashed incessantly in his vision. If there were ever a time where he and Anderson were more vulnerable, he didn’t recall it. If anyone intended to hit them, it would be there.
There had been no news on any changes in the contract on Anderson yet, he reminded himself. Not from Anja, at least. He doubted that Courtney would want them to be left out of the loop on something so important as a hit on her partner in Pegasus, but she was deep in corporate cover, and honestly, he didn’t know her very well. He had no clue what kind of greater good she would consider to be worth it to leave Anderson dangling.
It occurred to him that what they were doing was basically dangling the man and keeping him on the move to keep him safe. Maybe something done to allow for a larger picture wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
It would still be a dick move to keep them out of the loop, but that could simply be his overanxious caution at work. They were compiling data on Stafford like they had done with Carlson, and to move too soon would be plain stupid. Also, he had no doubt that Anja would notify him the moment she picked up on any direct threat.
“How are your ribs feeling?” Anderson asked and stepped a little closer.
He looked at his boss and retained his scowl as he tried to convey his irritation. The man had hung around like he wanted to make sure he was okay, and while he appreciated the sentiment, he also had to know that hovering while he was getting better was detrimental to his progress.
“It’s fine,” he assured him finally and took a step to put a little distance between them. “I’m a little sore and still recovering. These wraps don’t do much for my mobility and— Look, man, I appreciate it, but you don’t need to be around me all the damn time. I think my body knows how to recover on its own by now.”
“Have I been too clingy?” Anderson made a face. “Come on, man, you should have told me. I’ve been like this ever since Damon got sick and they told me to stay with him. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, and again, I appreciate the sentiment.” He nodded brusquely. “But honestly, I think I simply need some help from a nurse. And not one who’s found in a hospital, if you know what I mean.”
His boss narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you want one of the nurses they send to nursing homes?”
“They send strippers to nursing homes?” They adjusted their route to walk toward the building across the street from them. There were still too many people around—an uncomfortable number of people, actually—and he hoped the new destination might ease that.
“Wait…come on. That was a joke,” Anderson said and shook his head vehemently.
“Yeah, I know, but you suck at it since you gave up so easily.” He grinned and nudged the man in the shoulder.
“Wait, how many strippers have you slept with?”
“Do you want an actual number?” Savage frowned as he considered it. “I…well, I don’t remember any from when I was married, so that’s easy. And it wasn’t too many overall, I don’t think. Maybe one or two at bachelor parties. No—no, damn it, not my own.” He snarled the protest when he saw Anderson’s grin and knew exactly where his mind was going. “Not at my own. I would never have done that. Anyway, after the divorce, I spent most of my time overseas so didn’t actually get much time here. Not that many in total, after all. More than most folks, though, I suppose.”
His boss shrugged. “First of all, I wasn’t going to say you cheated on your ex-wife with a stripper at your bachelor party. I thought I’d put that out there. Secondly, well… You know what, never mind.”
“Oh my, have I stumbled on something of a fetish of yours?”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know.” Savage shrugged. “You seemed focused on the strippers so I thought it might be something you wanted but were afraid to bring up with Ivy. Do you think that, once we’re finished with this, we could go to a strip club and maybe work out what you want? That way, you will have built up the courage to encourage Ivy to do it.”
Anderson narrowed his eyes at him but paused when they reached the entrance. “But you’re the one who brought
strippers up. Why… I…I don’t feel comfortable talking about my wife like that to you. Sorry.”
Savage shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You seem a little uptight and in need of relaxation. I’ve met Ivy, and she seems like an encouraging woman who wouldn’t mind trying out new things with you.”
The ex-colonel dragged in a deep breath as he looked around as if afraid someone might overhear them. “I mean…sure, whatever. Ivy is the best, and yeah, I have hang-ups of my own that I’m not comfortable addressing with anyone, including you.”
“Again, I don’t want to pry.” He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “And it’s not like I’m a relationship expert or anything like that. Far from it. You and Ivy seem as strong as ever. I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude. It started out as a joke and got a little closer to reality than I intended.”
Anderson chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, man, and I appreciate the concern. It’s not like you don’t have some good points.”
“I’d go easy on suggesting that your wife strip for you, though,” he added as they stepped inside the club. “Pro advice. Build up to it, you know? Ivy probably won’t slap you, but I’ve been slapped for the suggestion. Keep that in mind.”
His companion laughed. “Thanks, Savage. I think I needed this.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He felt better for having his weapon tucked into his under-shoulder holster, although he doubted that he would have time to use it in these kinds of close quarters. Precious milliseconds would be lost in simply bringing it to bear effectively. Still, its solid presence made him feel a little less vulnerable. His left hand hovered around the knife secreted under his belt for quick access. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t need it.