Tex's Revenge: Military Discipline, Book Two (22 page)

“Yes sir,” she wailed, curling up on the bed in the foetal position. “Sorry sir.”

“I WILL NAIL YOUR HIDE TO THE FUCKING WALL,” Savage shouted, snarling at her with unrestrained anger.

Tex watched fascinated as he tried to staunch the blood from his nose. Where his refined approach had failed, Savage's agression seemed to be having a real effect. Anja clearly respected power and masculinity. That dissapointed him. It indicated a primal, simple temperament. Perhaps she was not everything he had imagined her to be. Perhaps she really was little more than a shell of a woman with a slavish devotion to the man who had once been her commanding officer. Pity.

The room was fast filling with agents. Two of them helped him up and ushered him to another part of the medical ward where a doctor was already standing by to set his nose. He could still hear Savage yelling at Anja at the top of his lungs like a drill sargeant with a rebellious young recruit.

“Are you ready sir?” The doctor spoke with polite deference, the kind he was starting to appreciate as the numbers of arrogant ex-military castoffs grew.

“Sir?” The doctor interrupted his train of thought with an apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, the nose,” Tex said, “please go ahead.” It was going to be yet another tedious, painful complication in his day but he supposed it couldn't be helped.

Chapter Fifteen

 “Feeling better?” Savage managed something like a sympathetic smile. Tex didn't like it. He didn't enjoy being on the receiving end of sympathy. Sympathy was for the weak. He was also aware that he looked silly sitting on a gurney with a large white bandage across the bridge of his nose and bruising and swelling forcing both of his eyes into a half closed position. Funny that one lucky blow could do so much damage.

On the bright side, Savage's presence gave him the opportunity to have the word he'd been meaning to have ever since that batshit junkie had taken a swing at his face. He fixed the behemoth of a man with the best version of a steely look he could manage given his facial bruising and ground out a question. “Do you seriously expect me to entertain the idea of that woman acting as an agent on my behalf?”

“She just needs a little discipline...”

Tex cut him off before he could get started with the explanations and the excuses and the rationalizations that poured out of the man whenever the failings of his subordinates were mentioned. “It seems, Mr Savage, that every female under your command lacks discipline.”

“I can see how it would appear that way,” Savage admitted, failing to withhold a smile. “But they all do their jobs when the time comes.”

“And in their downtime they lash out, misbehave and become irrationally attached to you. They pine for you if they can't have you. They fight one another in the hopes of gaining your favor.” Tex cocked his head to the side. “I'm not sure if you ran a military unit or a small cult.”

Savage made no reply. He just stood there being impenetrably handsome in a way that even Tex could appreciate. He'd stripped down to his undershirt and his bulky musculature was defined even when he was at rest. It was no wonder women lost their minds over him, he was everything they'd ever been taught to want, a classic alpha male having his way with any female in heat. Well the alpha was about to learn that he couldn't always get his own way. “I don't want Anja here,” he said finally. “She is of no use to me.”

“You haven't seen her in the field yet,” Savage said, completely failing to get the message. “She's a tiger.”

“I don't care if she's a damn chimera,” Tex snapped, on the verge of losing his temper entirely. “She attacked me.”

Savage nodded dismissively. “And she'll be disciplined for that.”

“Oh yes, slap her bottom and tell her she's a bad girl. Good idea.” Sarcasm positively seeped from every syllable.

“No. That would be a very bad idea,” Savage said, ignoring his tone.

Though Tex knew he would probably regret it, he couldn't help but ask the question. “Why?”

“Spanking works very well with women who are rebellious but inherently soft. Someone like Zora responds to it because it imparts just enough discomfort to make her think without the need for being brutal. It's intimate in nature and encourages a domestic kind of submission.” Savage paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “Spanking does not work well with a fighter like Anja. She'll push you to places you don't want to go, she'll interpret it as a fight and she won't lose. Someone like Anja needs to be put in her place hard and fast. That's why she's so dangerous injured. Handling her softly is bad for her and bad for everyone's safety.”

“You do realize that you're talking about her like she's some kind of vicious animal.”

“It's not far off the truth,” Savage agreed. “Whilst we're on the subject, don't undermine me in her eyes the way you do with Zora. It will destabilize her and make her dangerous.”

“If she's that unpredictable, maybe she should be put down.”

“She just needs time to adjust,” Savage said, missing the flow of the conversation yet again. “And maybe a low dose anti-psychotic.” He cracked a smile as if he'd made a joke, but Tex saw no humor in the truth.

“She lacks respect and empathy. She is a clear and present danger to everyone here,” he stared Savage down. “This is a business, not your personal harem.”

Savage finally began to take the affair seriously enough to look a little concerned. As Tex expected he became more aggressive in his demeanor. He drew himself up, his chest thrust out, his back ramrod straight. He probably wasn't aware of the way he was projecting authority and it might have had some effect on someone less studied in human behavior, but all Tex saw was a man desperately trying to get his own way.

“I know what this place is,” Savage said. “You wanted me because I can run teams that do things other teams just can't do. That means having people who aren't on other teams either. That means Anja. That means Zora.”

“Anja and Zora would gladly kill one another,” Tex pointed out softly.

“But they won't, because I will not allow it.” There was total certainty and arrogance in Savage's voice. The man truly seemed to believe he had both women right where he wanted them. Tex rather doubted he had an effective measure of control over either one of them.

“You're very confident, Mr Savage,” Tex said. “I hope your confidence is not misplaced.”

“It isn't.”

* * *

 “Wakey wakey Zora.”

Pulled out of what was already a bad night's sleep by an insistent nudging, Zora opened her eyes and found herself staring down the barrel of a snub nosed pistol. Behind the pistol, in the fuzzy focused mid-distance was a familiar face. Anja. Of course.

“Hey,” Zora squeezed her eyes shut as if that would help repel a bullet as she reached up and pushed the gun away with the back of her hand. “Go easy.”

“Go easy?” Anja cackled and pointed the gun back at Zora's forehead. “She says to go easy.” She addressed the wall as if there were someone there listening and nodding along. If there had been it would have gone some way to explaining the way her head was bobbing up and down in a subconscious repetitive motion, though it would not have explained the teeth grinding that accompanied the movement.

“She does,” Zora yawned and looked over at the alarm clock. 4.59 am. Maybe it was just the sleepiness but she felt strangely peaceful inside, as if she were a mere passenger on a stream of events so far beyond her control that attempting to influence them was a complete waste of her time. “It's far too early for me to die,” she observed casually. “I don't want to die before breakfast.”

Anja looked perplexed. Clearly this wasn't playing out the way she'd imagined it. “You should be scared.” She shook the gun threateningly in Zora's direction and pressed the muzzle to her head sharply for a moment before drawing it away. “Why aren't you scareder?”

“Ow,” Zora rubbed her head where the barrel had left a circular pressure indentation. “I don't know. I guess I figure you would have already shot me if you were going to.”

“Maybe I want to see you seeing me killing you.” Anja slurred the words slightly and swayed where she stood. Her hair was rumpled and knotted. A few silver blonde streaks fell over her pretty face, the rest were contorted and greasy, matted against her head as if she'd been forced to lie down in one position for too long. She smelled weird too, a strange acidic sour milk scent emanated from her and became worse when she made her periodic erratic movements.

“Fine,” Zora sighed, laying back against her pillow and closing her eyes once more. “Shoot me then.”

“I'll do it,” Anja threatened.

Zora opened one eye. “I know you will.”

“Why don't you care?” Anja scowled. “It's not as much fun if you don't care.” She tapped the tip of the gun against Zora's head three times. “I'm crazy you know,” she confided with a swift change of subject.

“Are you? Well that's nice,” Zora said agreeably. “Have you been crazy long?”

“The military therapist said I had a break with reality. That's why they discharged me. But I think reality broke me, that's what I think.” Anja settled in on the end of the bed looking very comfortable. Zora scooted up to make room for her, eying the pistol that was now held loosely in Anja's hand. She seemed to have forgotten about murdering anyone for the meantime.

“Life is a bitch,” Zora said.

“And so am I.” Anja gave a toothy grin that didn't get anywhere near her eyes. Her pupils were large and dark and still her teeth ground on and on.

“ANJA!”

Though overtly heroic, Savage's sudden booming appearance in the doorway didn't help matters in the slightest. Anja panicked and squeezed the trigger. The bullet emerged from the gun with a ear shattering explosion and made a very short journey from barrel to the wall not three inches away from Zora's neck.

Spurred by the shot, Savage dived like a predatory cat and tackled her off the bed and onto the floor, wresting the gun away from her hand with a harsh twisting motion that made her cry out on pain. Zora heard an audible 'CRACK' as some part of Anja's frail anatomy gave way then the gun skidded uselessly across the floor and came to a rest out in the hallway.

Savage dragged the would be assassin up off the floor with one powerful motion. Anja's hand dangled at a weird angle, which didn't seem to bother her as much as it should have. There were tears streaming down her face, but she showed no awareness of them as she let out a high pitched giggle.

“Fuck Brett, what did you do to her?” Zora felt her stomach rising. The scene was so horribly brutal, so unnecessarily nasty.

“I saved your life,” he said, putting Anja in a pointless joint lock. She wasn't going anywhere. The fight had gone out of her the moment he'd appeared in the room. She hung like a rag doll in his arms, a completely broken woman muttering soft words to herself and crooning in between them. Her mouth had gone slack and what intellect had remained in her eyes had fled her completely.

“Fuck you, I saved my own damn life. You came in here like a complete fucking asshole.” Zora found the anger and outrage that had been missing whilst she was under Anja's gun. “Look what you did to her!”

Anja had slumped further in Savage's arms and was making a keening noise that damn near broke Zora's heart. “Fuck,” Zora swore under her breath, scrambling out of bed. She made her way over to Anja and brushed the woman's hair out of her face. “We're going to get you all fixed up okay sweetie?” She kept her voice light and soft, as if she were comforting a hurt domestic animal.

Anja nodded slowly, confusion and pain registering in her hollowed out gaze.

“Zora...” Savage tried to speak. She wasn't interested in anything he had to say.

“Shut the fuck up Brett.” Zora's voice went back to a growl as she raised her eyes to look at him. “We are going to take her to the medical ward and get that set. And you are going to shut the fuck up or so help me I'll shoot you.”

Savage did not look pleased. He looked completely pissed, but Zora didn't care. He was so far in the wrong that right wouldn't have dared drive down the street with him for fear of being carjacked. “Who do you think you're talking to, Matthews?”

“Someone who gives more of a damn about this woman than you ever did,” she scowled at him. “I don't care what you do to me later. Right now she needs medical attention.”

Savage might have wanted to argue more, but Anja's cries of disoriented pain were growing by the moment. With a muttered curse he hefted her into his arms and carried her in the direction of the medical ward, leaving Zora to follow him with a perfectly thunderous expression.

* * *

An hour later Anja's arm was in a cast and she was resting comfortably under a high dose sedative that had put her into something like a sleep. Zora stood at her bedside, looking down at her battered, broken frame with sympathy. Anja was a crazy bitch for sure, but nobody deserved to be in that much pain or to be treated as less than human.

“I'm sorry,” Savage said, approaching her from the side. “She shouldn't have been able to get to you. They gave her enough tranquilizer to down a horse last night but somehow she broke her bonds and found you.”

“I guess hate is stronger than ketamine,” Zora quipped darkly. She took a sip of the coffee she'd managed to scrounge up in between avoiding Savage and his stupid apologies and making sure Anja didn't get out of hand again. It was bitter and cooling rapidly in spite of the fact she was drinking it black.

Savage's pager buzzed. He checked it, which made her resentful. He could never just leave work alone for five minutes. “Urgent briefing,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “Go easy on that coffee, that stuff will give you an ulcer.” He left, reporting for duty like a good robot.

“I don't care.” Zora hadn't taken her eyes off Anja's peaceful face the entire time he'd been speaking. In sleep she looked a little like her old strong self, she looked like she might wake up and go for a run and then go save a few hundred lives by being awesome. Though Zora had never really admitted it to herself, she'd always admired Anja's vitality and beauty. If only she'd found someone to love intensely who loved her the same way. If only her love for Savage hadn't become something so perverted and dark it had twisted her entire being and left her with nothing inside.