Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I

t hadn’t been an easy recovery. They never were, but there was something about this one that made him feel…devastated.

He had taken a considerable beating. Even he wouldn’t deny that. But he had taken beatings in the past, some of which had been worse than this. Savage could remember a couple of times when he had walked away with gunshot wounds, treated them himself, and been back in action after only a few days of recovery. He had been young then, of course. His body had felt like a machine that would keep on going forever.

And he felt the effects of that now. The punch to his kidney had seemed to be the worst of it, and after he’d reached the hospital, there had been problems with internal bleeding he hadn’t detected at first. It had required surgery, which left him laid up for a little longer than he would have liked. The damage had been extensive.

“You should see the other guy,” had been something he found himself saying more and more after a couple of visits. He wasn’t wrong to say it, of course. It had been a tough fight for them both and he had certainly come away the winner. He’d needed to play dirty to achieve his victory, though. Then again, any fight against the monster of a human he’d paired off against was ridiculously tilted toward the man’s favor. He certainly didn’t feel bad for pounding him where every man wanted to be treated nicely and then gouging his eyes out. It had been a matter of survival at that point, and the person who walked away from the bout was the one who survived.

He walked away. The other man didn’t.

Well…he’d been carried away, pure and simple. He’d had difficulty moving after the adrenaline in his system had worn off and he’d winced and groaned while Terry had helped him to get to the hospital. It had culminated in a hefty dose of painkillers and him eventually put under as the MRI showed bleeding in his kidney as a result of the punch. There were other injuries in there too, which were treated at the same time.

Savage didn’t like that there was a part of him that seemed to not want to recover. It was taking too long, and he alternated between trying too hard and not trying enough. The doctors told him the momentary bouts of depression could have been a result of the medication he was on, but their lack of certainty was telling. Or it felt telling, anyway.

It was a good day when, three and a half weeks later, he was given the all clear by the doctors. Thankfully, the bills could be transferred to Pegasus for Anderson and Monroe to deal with. As Jeremiah Savage, he hadn’t thought to look into the variety of insurances he would need to have in order to be a functioning human being in the United States. Health insurance was one of them.

Back to the real world

. The thought brought a scowl as he packed his personal effects. Terry had the presence of mind to make sure he didn’t have anything incriminating on him when he was delivered to the hospital. Anderson had advised them over the phone as they drove into the place and gave them a story that wouldn’t involve any cops in their business. It had worked, although the doctors had still needed to fill out paperwork that meant his condition would be delivered to the police should it become relevant to any open cases.

Savage doubted that would happen. Terry had managed to take care of the bodies before the police arrived to investigate the gunfire. It wasn’t like it had happened in a populated neighborhood, and the few who were in the area probably wanted to get clear of it themselves before the cops showed up.

Things had been tied up in a neat little bow. Alvarez had taken care of Stafford, and that meant all the money that had originally gone into the attempt to kill Anderson had gone into the Mexican’s bank account.

Terry and Sam had both come in to visit him a couple of times to make sure his recovery was progressing as it should. Anderson did too, and while it seemed that Monroe’s business in the Zoo kept her occupied, the former colonel told him that the woman had sent her best regards and both of them told him to focus on recovery above all else. His money would still come in while he was in bed.

He had put on a brave face for all of them. His doubts about his own body’s ability to recover from the beating it had taken were put aside and hidden until he could actually do something about it. Compartmentalization. That was key.

Savage would have declined the use of a wheelchair to get him to the lobby, preferring to get there on his own two feet instead. The orderlies were insistent, though, and he had to allow himself to be wheeled to the elevator. A couple of papers were waiting for him at the lobby, mostly to make sure Pegasus would cover his medical bills. Paperwork was something a man with his particular history wouldn’t be used to.

When he reached the lobby, a familiar face waited for him. Not one of the faces he had expected, of course. He had always assumed that the former colonel had better things to do than to make sure his employee was recovering well, but there he was—Anderson, the tall, lean, dark-haired man with well-disguised burn scars around his neck and hands. He wore jeans, boots, a flannel shirt, and a leather jacket, but he looked uncomfortable in those for some reason. He seemed like the kind of man who would be uncomfortable in anything that wasn’t a uniform of some kind. Even a suit and tie would probably feel better.

“Savage,” Anderson said with a smirk, pushed up from his seat, and put the magazine he had been reading to pass the time aside. He approached quickly to shake his hand. “I love the wheels.”

“Anderson.” The operative chuckled and shook the man’s hand firmly. “Yeah…they basically made me do it. I can walk fine, but I guess they want to make me feel like an invalid for as long as possible. What the hell are you doing here, you crazy bastard? Don’t you have a home life to get back to? A kid and wife who need your attention more than me?”

“I’ll be honest with you, I needed a break from the home life,” he admitted and looked a little guilty. “And you’re the only one I’ve actually opened up to about that, so you’re the only one I can be honest with about it.”

“Damn,” Savage grumbled as they made their way to where the paperwork waited for him. “Does that mean we’re friends now? Because I don’t think I can handle the pressure.”

“I’m afraid so.” The former colonel chuckled and left him to sign his name on all the documents. He finished with it less than a minute later, and both men moved toward the sliding exit doors.

“So what have you been up to while I’ve been laid up?” he asked as Anderson brought them to a halt at the front where a car was brought around for them. “Fending off more attacks from Carlson’s minions? Have you put Sam and Terry through their paces?”

“In order, no, and yes,” Anderson said and gestured to a gleaming, polished Mustang GT that stopped at the entrance. Both men took a moment to appreciate it and Savage pushed himself gratefully from the wheelchair. “I don’t know why or how, but it seems like Carlson’s people have laid low after Stafford’s death. Which…okay, I assume you had something to do with?”

Both men stepped into the car and the ex-colonel looked like he was enjoying himself a little too much—to the point where his companion wondered if he needed to give the two a room.

“Do you really want an answer to that?” he asked and leaned into the leather passenger seat with a soft sigh that was both a little relaxation and a little pain. His body was still sore, but he didn’t allow that to limit his appreciation for how comfortable the seat was. “Oh, by the way, our friend Alvarez says hi.”

“Who now?” Anderson asked and started the car with a satisfying roar.

“Remember? The guy in the bar?” he asked and fiddled with the controls on his seat until the other man glared at him. “The Mexican Sam and I were sent to recover some of our stolen merch from.”

“Oh…right. The man who got me into the VIP section of a club for the first time,” Anderson said with a chuckle and eased the car slowly out of the parking lot.

“That…that’s sad, dude,” Savage replied and gave Anderson a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I assume a big part of what you want me to do is provide you and Monroe with all the plausible deniability the police know and love, so I’ll leave out the part where Sam and I tore through this guy’s complex like he owed us money.” He grinned cheerfully as they pulled out onto the road. “Which, you know, he did.”

“Well, keep assuming that,” Anderson replied and fed the beast they were riding a little more gas as they headed deeper into the city of Philadelphia. It was mid-afternoon, meaning the peak of the rush hour was still a few hours away, but the streets were far from empty, They wouldn’t be able to enjoy the full power of the car but then again, they didn’t need to. It was enough to simply revel in the ride. Savage didn’t know what Anderson was doing with such a family-unfriendly car, but he had no intention to complain.

There weren’t that many pleasures in the world equal to that of riding around in a muscle car. It was in the middle of autumn, meaning it wasn’t convertible weather, but it was still a nice drive all the way to the apartment the operative had called home during those times when he wasn’t called to travel all around the country for work.

They pulled into the underground parking lot of his building in almost complete silence. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, even though Savage knew they needed to have a talk about what he would do next now that he was out of the hospital.

“So, these paces you’ve put Sam and Terry through,” Savage said as they stopped in one of the empty parking places. “They wouldn’t have anything to do with keeping your family safe, would they?”

Anderson shrugged his shoulders. “Sam and Ivy have really bonded. Ivy hasn’t had many female friends since we’ve recently moved out here. Terry and Damon really get along too, so I assumed it was what they wanted to do. Besides, having them take care of the family gave me more time to work with Anja and find out what Carlson’s people are up to.”

“And what did you find?” he asked as they moved to the elevator of the building.

“More than I expected although less than I hoped,” the other man admitted. “Like I said, they’ve gone to ground more and more over the past few weeks. There have still been a couple of incidents of lab materials going missing, smaller stuff like that. Anja had worked on containing them as much as she could from her end of things, but there has been some need for fieldwork.”

“You weren’t able to take care of that?” Savage asked when the elevator arrived and they stepped inside. He punched the button for the seventh floor.

“Well, no,” Anderson grumbled and shook his head. “Courtney had a couple of choice words to share about me heading out into the field on my own.”

“And you took that from her?” He raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise.

“Yep.” The man shrugged and seemed to completely lack shame on that particular issue, and Savage nodded.

“She is a terrifying woman,” he said with a firm nod.

“Right. Anyway,” the ex-colonel said when the elevator came to a halt and they stepped out into the hallway leading to the apartment. “I sent Terry and Sam in to deal with what they could. Anja says they have all the right training, but they’re not as easy to work with as you are. I think she missed you, although she didn’t say it outright.”

“That’s fair.” He chuckled, retrieved his keys, and opened the door. “She’s not the kind of person to share her feelings much anyway, so you have to read into what she says.”

His companion nodded as they entered. It wasn’t an overly expensive apartment—nothing like a penthouse, of course—but even one like this in the center of Philly wasn’t cheap. It wasn’t all that small either, with a kitchen that connected via a bar to the living room. In addition to a guest bathroom, the single bedroom had an en suite bathroom of its own.

Savage looked at Anderson, who had narrowed his eyes as he inspected the room. He wasn’t sure what the man was looking for. He always made sure the place was clean before he left and didn’t keep much in the way of fresh food that would go bad after a long time away. He made sure to eat healthy, of course, but he always purchased only what he needed when he needed it, given his unpredictable schedule. Aside from the necessary appliances in the kitchen, the apartment was purely utilitarian, and the only visible furnishings were a couple of couches surrounding a widescreen TV.

It was still clean although it had collected a little dust. Savage opened the curtains and turned to see Anderson still making a careful scrutiny of the space.

“You really don’t like decorations, do you?” the man said abruptly as if he’d suddenly realized what it was he found strange. The operative looked around and nodded. There weren’t any paintings on the walls, no plants, fake or otherwise, and nothing to indicate that an actual human lived here. It looked like a picture straight out of a real estate magazine, an empty canvas meant to elicit the artistic nature inside every bored housewife who saw it.

“I never saw the point,” he said with a chuckle. He sauntered over to the fridge in the kitchen, pulled out two longnecks, untwisted the caps, and handed one of them to his companion. “I won’t spend what little time I have off staring at paintings or taking care of plants.”

“Fair enough.” Anderson accepted the beer with a smile. “You can’t deny this place needs a woman’s touch, though. Something…hell, a tea cozy or a bowl of potpourri. Anything. And are you sure you should drink with the medication you’re supposed to be on?”

He shrugged with every intention not to answer. After a moment, he dropped onto the couch and indicated for the other man to do the same. “If they didn’t want me to drink, they should have told me.”

“And if they had told you?” the former colonel asked.

“Then I didn’t listen, same difference.” He grinned, clinked his bottle to Anderson’s, and took a long swig from it. “Think about it. With the life I live, dying of liver failure or something like that is probably preferable to getting shot or having my skull bashed in anyway.”

“Well…that’s depressing,” Anderson replied with a shake of his head. “You really need a better outlook on life, you know. And like I said, get a woman’s touch around here.”

“I don’t generally bring the women I meet back here,” he replied matter of factly.

“Well, that’s obvious enough,” The former colonel chuckled. “If Jessica Coleman could see this place, she would go full in on the nesting instinct.”

“Why would she ever come here to see it?” he asked and cringed inwardly when he realized a little too much bitterness had entered his voice as he spoke, which in turn made the other man study him closely before he responded.

“Ah…well, she’s back in Philly, actually. I assumed you knew.” Savage shook his head to indicate that he didn’t, in fact, know. “Yeah, Courtney called her in to give her and the board an overview of the labs she’s been overseeing. She was the one who alerted Anja to some of the robberies and attempted robberies, so she does need to update them all and make sure none of them see what’s happening as any sign of weakness. There was something to do with stock shares and the fact they’re selling the shares that belonged to Carlson in a little while, so they don’t want any price drops. Something like that.”

He would be the first to admit he didn’t know much about stocks and shares or anything, but it did make sense. News of robberies at newly established labs had the potential to send the stock prices down.

“She’ll give her presentation tomorrow,” Anderson continued when he noted the operative’s sudden interest in the conversation. “It’ll be at the Pegasus building. As a security consultant whom we have on retainer, I’m sure nobody would be surprised to see you in attendance.”

“I can basically guarantee Dr. Coleman will be surprised to see me there,” he responded with a grim chuckle and took another sip of his drink. “She didn’t even let me know she was back in town,” he grumbled and sipped his beer as if to punctuate his thoughts. “But you know what? This has all been about learning and growing through experiences and shit. I bet meeting her is probably the best thing to do, right?”

“It makes sense to me,” the other man said and kept his voice soft. “So will you be there tomorrow?”

Savage nodded. “Yeah, I think I will. But I think that’s enough emotional talk. My DVR is filled to busting with games I missed while I was in recovery. Let’s do that and not talk.”

“It sounds good to me.” Anderson chuckled as Savage turned his TV on, selected one of the first games he had missed, and leaned back in his seat.