by Michael Todd
Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure what the situation called for. Caroline had bought him a drink, and it seemed like he needed to be loyal to that. Then again, he’d always been partial to redheads.
“Stick around, dear,” he replied and smiled at her. “And I might.”
“If that isn’t all kinds of mysterious.” She inched forward to swing up on a barstool, but her eyes flickered, and her gaze settled somewhere over his shoulder.
“Find your own man, you little skank,” Caroline screamed as she shoved him out of the way and dragged the redhead off the barstool to toss her to the ground. She used her boots to hammer a kick into the other woman’s stomach and dropped to deliver a punch but Savage interceded.
It irritated him that he had to intervene. Caroline looked like she was about to beat the redhead senseless, and he couldn’t have that happen, not over him. He grabbed her by the wrists and hauled her off the prostrate woman.
“Let me go, asshole,” she yelled and tried to shake him off. She was unsuccessful and he managed to step between the two.
“Throw another punch, and you will regret it,” he snapped and pushed her back into the bar when she tried to swing at him after he released her. He turned to glance at the other woman. Except for a low groan, she looked like she would be fine.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Just keep that crazy psycho bitch away from me,” the redhead replied and took his hand to help her up.
“That’s probably a good idea.” He smiled apologetically before he returned his attention to Caroline, who had recovered and now tried to attack the redhead again.
“You get the fuck back,” Savage snapped and pointed a finger at the woman. It was usually an effective trick. People respected the finger-pointing. It was a show of dominance without actually showing any dominance.
“Or what, big guy?” she snarled in response as she backed away from his finger. She regained her courage quickly. “Men like you are all so full of shit. You posture and get all manly, but when it comes time to actually do something, you wuss out. I wish that once—just once—a man would treat me like he would any other man.”
And that taunt marked his all-out-of-patience level. He stepped in and saw the shock on her face a second before his fist collided with it. The mostly harmless punch to the jaw wouldn’t leave that much of a bruise, but she fell back with a soft grunt and crumpled.
“Wish granted,” he stated softly. Most of the patrons had fallen silent and the entire crowd seemed to have witnessed what had happened. There didn’t seem to be too many disapproving glances since most people present knew she was a bitch, even those in her party. They were simply surprised that he had actually acted on it.
Savage didn’t feel like confronting them about it. He was all for equality, and if a man had challenged him like that, he would have done precisely the same thing.
That said, he didn’t much want a drink anymore. He wanted to punch something and keep on punching until it couldn’t punch back. It nagged like an itch in the back of his mind that had started when he’d punched Caroline and wouldn’t stop until he let it out.
Maybe time at the gym would resolve it. Their motel didn’t have one, but there had to be someplace open in the area where he could punch something. He rolled his shoulders in an effort to ease the rising tension and resisted the urge to wait for her to come to.
Anderson was still on the phone and didn’t seem to have noticed anything, too engaged with talking with Ivy. He didn’t want to interrupt and made his way quietly outside for some fresh air.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anderson missed most of what could only loosely be described as a fight as he finished the call with Ivy. She told him that while both sides of the line were encrypted, it was still best to keep the call short. He couldn’t deny that it was nice to hear her voice again. The worst part, of course, was how much it hurt when she had to hang up.
He did catch the part where Savage clocked a blonde woman dressed as a cowgirl across the jaw and walked out of the bar like he didn’t give a crap. That was fun, he had to admit.
He drained his beer to the dregs and pushed out of the booth to move quickly to join his comrade. He jogged to catch up since Savage walked at a brisk pace.
“Hey, hey, slow down there, buddy,” he called and gripped the man by the shoulder to stop him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”
The operative paused and looked tense and unsettled. “Yeah. It’s just…you condition yourself to finish the job when it comes to violence. I’m not built to walk away from a fight anymore. When I do, it’s like an itch that won’t go away. I’m used to it, though. I simply need some fresh air.”
Anderson nodded. He’d known that about the man when they’d hired him. There had been a frank discussion with Courtney about what they would do if he went off the rails. Bringing Heavy Metal in to deal with him had not been taken off the table. The more he saw of him, however, the more he realized the man had an odd yet rigid kind of control over himself. He was a beast, absolutely, but a beast that knew what he was doing and how to handle himself in more ways than one.
Besides that, he wasn’t fully sure that even the Heavy Metal team in all its armored glory wouldn’t have a hard time dealing with Savage when he was in one of his moods. The kind of mood he suppressed right now.
“In all honesty, I think someone upstairs did me a huge favor,” Savage continued. “I was about to get down and nasty with the crazy blonde. I’ve made bad decisions in my love life and that was one mistake I don’t think I would have walked away from.”
“What about you and Dr. Coleman?”
“Jessica said she needed time to think,” he grumbled. “Then she took Monroe’s offer to head up one of the facilities in… I don’t even know where. She made her choice and it wasn’t me. Hell, I can’t even blame her. It was a good choice.”
“Don’t be like that.” Anderson patted his comrade on the shoulder. “Although I do agree. You dodged a major bullet with the blonde cowgirl.”
The other man chuckled and shook his head, but his face went dead a few seconds later and eyes narrowed as he stared at the parking lot—and more specifically at the trio of black SUVs that had pulled in and parked at the far edge of the area. A group of men stepped out, toting more than a few weapons.
“Oh…shit,” Anderson whispered softly as both men dropped behind the nearest car. “How did they know where to find us?”
“Well, there are a number of possibilities.” Savage drew his weapon and checked the strip inside. He had enough for a firefight, but probably only one, although he hadn’t had to reload once. “It might have been the call. Or it could be someone saw us and turned us in to the people hunting us. It could even be that they’re not looking for us.”
“How likely is that last one?” he asked. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Not very.” The operative slapped the chamber into place, his expression grim. The ex-colonel drew his own weapon, checked the mag, and flicked the safety off.
“We can’t fight that many of them out there,” his companion pointed out. “They’ll flank us in no time. We need to get out of the open.”
“Back to the bar?” Anderson glanced around them. The man was right. They would get picked apart out there in the open.
But Savage shook his head. “Too many witnesses and too many innocent people caught in the crossfire. We need an exit strategy. Until then, we can stall them. Anja, do you hear that? We need an exit strategy now.”
“I’m working on it,” she responded, having apparently listened in on everything they’d said thus far.
“Anderson,” he said softly. “Stay behind the car and give me cover fire. I’ll take them on a merry little chase until Anja figures out a way for us to get out. Understood?”
The ex-colonel nodded. It was a tactical choice, he knew that. They were there to keep him alive. That was the operative’s sole purpose on this t
rip and that was exactly what he would do.
So why did it suddenly feel so shitty?
Savage didn’t wait for him to agree with the plan but immediately pushed out from behind the car. Anderson needed a moment to realize what he was doing before he got with the program.
The chances were their attackers didn’t actually know what his bodyguard looked like, and they definitely wouldn’t expect him to walk toward them in the parking lot. He kept his weapon tucked out of sight and moved with the stumble-shuffle drunk people tended to use. At face value, he was simply a man leaving a bar after a few drinks and would probably make the wrong choice and try to drive home.
The ex-colonel peeked out from behind the vehicle, his pistol trained on the group of men who started to break into search parties. They had a general location but didn’t seem to know where he was precisely, which was a comforting thought. A group of five walked toward Savage, seemingly unaware of who he was. They paid him no attention as he fumbled in his pockets in search of his keys or perhaps his phone.
Damned if the guy didn’t know his craft.
At almost the same moment that the group seemed to notice someone approaching them, one dropped back after the distinctive metallic whoosh that Savage’s pistol made when it fired. The sound repeated as the target crumpled. His four comrades looked confused before a second man succumbed to a pair of needles delivered with precision into his skull.
It wasn’t until the third man died that they realized they were being shot at.
They swung their sub-machine guns up to return the favor. A fourth assassin was eliminated before the weapons clattered to life and Savage circled quickly to hammer the butt of his pistol into the last man’s skull in two blunt strikes. He shot him calmly a couple of times to finish him off.
The death spasm triggered a single, three-round burst. The bullets fanned harmlessly into empty air but still alerted the other two search parties to where their quarry was.
“Shit,” Anderson hissed. He twisted to watch the ten men converge on where the other man had ducked between two cars when a concerted volley spewed into the night. The ex-colonel raised his weapon cautiously. The assassins ignored him for the most part, obviously assuming Savage was the greater threat. Well, they weren’t wrong, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a little fight in him as well.
His Beretta kicked back into his hand. The sound of gunshots made his ears ring and mingled with the rapid staccato rhythms of the other weapons. His heart pounded in his chest and adrenaline made everything feel tingly and alive. But the fear was gone, he realized. Something had changed within him, and he had to say he liked it better than he had when everything started.
He couldn’t be sure whether that was a good thing or not but damned if he didn’t feel alive in that moment. He pulled the trigger and smirked as his two targets tumbled when his bullets drilled into their backs. That was the moment when the others realized they’d been drawn into a trap. It wasn’t particularly impressive given that they were still outnumbered about eight to two and no longer had the element of surprise.
Three of the attackers circled and found cover behind the cars. These were pros, Anderson realized. He maintained a steady stream of fire and tried to cover for Savage as well as keep the three breakaways pinned down. It wouldn’t last. Their adversaries had more ammo and more patience.
“There’s a car coming to your right,” Anja said suddenly in his ear. “Get in—now.”
He didn’t think to question what she’d said. All he could do was move. His pistol clicked empty and he didn’t bother to reload but sprinted as quickly as he could toward the electric car that rolled closer. He fell inside and slammed the door behind him.
“I love me some electric cars these days,” Anja said, and he pulled back into his seat as the vehicle suddenly accelerated. “Did you know that these cars actually have their engines cued into the car’s electronics? And that they have a Wi-Fi connection? How convenient is that?”
The ex-colonel didn’t answer as the car veered through the parking lot. He could only imagine that the hacker sat back in her chair and manipulated the vehicle like it was some kind of video game. Honestly, it wasn’t a pleasant thought. He clutched the seat to anchor himself as she guided the car on her chosen course. Their attackers seemed confused by this turn of events, and it looked like they had their opening.
They stopped where Savage still held his ground. He saw the car and immediately barreled toward it. Anderson stretched to open the passenger side door and the man scrambled inside. He landed awkwardly but managed to close the door behind him as Anja gunned the engine again.
“I can only get this thing moving at about twenty miles an hour, so not to get all Carrie Underwood on your asses, but someone, please take the wheel,” Anja shouted through their earpieces.
The ex-colonel jumped to the task and assumed control of the vehicle as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. Gunfire erupted behind them, but it seemed like the weapons their attackers had brought would have difficulty reaching them over this kind of distance.
“Who the hell is Carrie Underwood?” Savage asked once he’d settled into his seat.
“You don’t want to know,” Anderson replied and tried to sound calm and collected as they swung onto the access ramp for the nearest highway. “So, Anja, where are we going?”
Sam scowled and looked up from the laptop she used to keep an eye on all the cameras that had been installed around the building.
She didn’t really mind that Terry had taken on the job of keeping Damon alive and well while Savage and Anderson were scouring the land. It was a simple fact that she had never been very good with kids, and this one was no exception. He was cool enough, she supposed, but it was draining to be around him all the time.
Enter Mixon.
The man lived for this sort of crap, she thought with a disgusted eye-roll. He helped with homework. They watched sports. As of right now, they played an obnoxiously loud video game, and Terry gave the kid tactical advice on how to flank a couple of campers that tried to control the map that they were playing on.
They were loud about it too. Apparently, they had a bet going that whenever one of them died, they would have to do ten push-ups as they waited for their character to respawn.
If that didn’t get rid of childhood obesity, what would?
Sam glanced at Ivy in the kitchen. She’d complained that Terry fed Damon too much pizza and junk food and that damn it, tonight, she would make them a healthy meal. The boy was still a vegetarian, which meant it would be some tofu bullshit or another, but Ivy, to her credit, seemed to enjoy helping her son with his dietary preference.
Honestly, she didn’t think she would have that kind of patience. That was maybe why she wasn’t great at the whole being around kids thing. And she grew more and more thankful that Terry was there to fill the gap as well as more and more annoyed at the man. He dropped in that moment and worked quickly through his pushups.
She jumped when her phone vibrated insistently and yanked it out of her pocket to see if she recognized the number. She didn’t, but she wasn’t the kind to simply let it go to voicemail.
“Hello?” She narrowed her eyes and considered which of her I’m-not-buying-anything speeches would be appropriate.
“God damn it, Sam,” a familiar voice with an equally familiar Russian accent said belligerently. “Why isn’t anyone there wearing their earpieces?”
“We’re having some downtime? Is that you, Anja?”
A sigh from the other side of the line seemed to indicate that the hacker wanted to make a joke but didn’t have the time. “Just…have someone listening into the comms at all times in the future, okay? But for now, I need you guys to get off your downtime.”
“What’s up?” Sam asked and gestured for Terry to join her. Damon voiced his annoyance and muttered something about being in the middle of a match, but the man pulled out anyway and looked at her with a questioning expression.<
br />
Sam put Anja on speakerphone. “You have both me and Terry here. What’s up?”
“Anderson and Savage are in some serious shit,” the Russian explained, apparently not knowing or caring that there were children present. “They’re heading back to Philly, but once they get there, they’ll need your help.”
“Tell us what you need,” she said softly. The alarm in the other woman’s voice was enough to sober her. Jokes could come later. This was what they had been hired for, after all.
Chapter Thirty
Fucking doctors. What the hell did they know about this sort of shit? Charles knew he shouldn’t drink, but damn it, the source of his ulcer problem was stress, and that was better treated by a couple of drinks. And, inevitably, a couple more after that.
In truth, the decanter full of scotch in the corner of his office had been full when he’d started about an hour before, too afraid to head back home without this situation resolved. Kelly had told him that he’d take care of it personally and make sure the word was spread far and wide through his contacts.
It was best to be in the office when the call came in. With Anderson dead, maybe Monroe would take the hint that she wasn’t wanted in Pegasus and stay in the Sahara. And from that point forward, all the fucking assholes who had been shooting his solutions down over the past few weeks would come back looking to make amends simply to have an in with all the money that would be made over the next few quarters. He would be able to pick and choose and tell some of the assholes they would have to watch from the outside.
Charles sucked down the last mouthful of scotch from his glass and poured another one. There was only enough for half a glass, which was disappointing. He’d made sure that his secretary didn’t stock the stuff anymore after his doctor’s orders. Although that wasn’t necessarily a problem. He could head on home for a couple of bottles, right?