Justice Comes Due (Birth Of Heavy Metal Book 7) Page 3

  “It’s truly fantastic to hear that I can take advantage of my time in the military to pass as an honest man,” he commented dryly. “And what about the…other matter we discussed?”

  “You know I had nothing to do with that,” she grumbled defensively. “It was resolved before I could help with it, and there’s really nothing I can do without pissing the board off more than I already have. Let Savage know about his role in this, and I guarantee that he’ll be more than happy to help.”

  “And if he isn’t?” Anderson asked. “Knowing the man like I do, I think I can predict that he’ll be a little…difficult.”

  “I think he’ll go for this anyway,” Courtney insisted. “If he doesn’t… Well, we’ll simply have to find a way around it. I don’t think we should push him too hard since he’s supposed to be recovering from his injuries. If he doesn’t agree to it, we’ll think of something else.”

  He sighed and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do to get him on board.”

  “I appreciate it, James.” She smiled. “Stay in touch.”

  She hung up and placed the phone and her sarong on a nearby table before she slid into the hot tub next to Sal and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “Problems?” he asked and raised an eyebrow.

  “None that are close enough for me to care about,” she replied and kissed his cheek tenderly. “And as nice as this hot tub is, I think I’m in the mood for a proper swim. What say the two of you that we head to the pools after lunch?”

  Sal shrugged and looked at Madigan.

  “I’m up for that,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to give the bar they have up there a try anyway. It would be nice to have some company.”

  “Sal?” Courtney asked.

  “Yeah, like I’d let the two of you run around this place without a chaperone.” He laughed. “I’m in.”

  “How long do you think you and Bev will stick around here?” Savage asked and looked up from tinkering with his pistol to the woman seated across from him. She was fairly attractive in her tough Latina kind of way, but he was well aware that he wasn’t her type. After that conversation had occurred fairly early in their relationship, things were quick to develop into something similar to what he shared with Sam—not quite a brother-sister bond but one based on similar interests and shared experiences. Amanda Gutierrez was a woman to be reckoned with in the field as well as being a bona fide genius in combat engineering.

  Ever since she’d arrived in Philly, she had spent considerable time in Savage’s team’s warehouse to examine and test the veritable arsenal of weaponry they had at their disposal. The fact that many weapons had gone missing from various laboratory facilities during Monroe’s takeover meant it had been his job to retrieve those missing pieces. The insurance companies Pegasus had hired to secure their products began to pay out, and Courtney realized that if some of the equipment simply remained missing, they might actually come away with a profit as well as being able to arm and equip Savage and his team without having to pay for it—in dollars, anyway.

  It left them with an arsenal that needed to be organizes if they wanted to determine how it would be useful in the field. He could improvise as well as the next guy, but he was mostly old-school in his knowledge. While he could strip, clean, and put any weapon back together quicker than anyone else, when it came to finding out exactly how the more tech-based weaponry was supposed to work, he needed help. With Anja taking a little time off, he needed different help, and Amanda had stepped into the role.

  She appeared to relish it almost more than the vacation she was supposed to be on. He really enjoyed watching her work and helped her in any way that he could. With the sale of the stocks, there wasn’t much for someone in his particular role to do, which gave him the time to simply do what he loved—select and play around with new weapons and watch sports.

  Savage was a Seahawks fan and Amanda was, for some strange reason, not. Even worse, she was a Forty-niners fan. No one was perfect, he reminded himself.

  “You’ve tuned me out for about fifteen minutes, haven’t you?”

  He looked up from the magnetic coil he was priming, blinked, and settled his attention on her. Amanda grinned like she’d caught him with his hand in a cookie jar or a pot stash. He wouldn’t be able to bullshit his way out of this one.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he confessed and shook his head. “I’ve been focused on getting this stuff done right. There’s no need for it to suddenly go wrong because the fine-tuning was off by a couple of millimeters, right?”

  “Well, considering that you’re doing a better job of it than you did yesterday, I’ll give you a pass on listening to what I said,” Amanda replied, took the coil out of his hands, and replaced it with another one.

  “What did you say?” he asked as he returned to his work with real enthusiasm. There was a small amount of pleasure that came when he worked with his hands like this, although it would take a great deal of washing to get all the grease cleaned off.

  “You asked me how Bev was handling being here in the States and doing all the touristy crap while I’m stuck in the warehouse with you,” she said.

  “Well, yeah, I remember that, obviously.” He chuckled.

  “Of course you do.” She smirked. “And I replied by saying that while Bev is more than happy to run around the city in the dead of fucking winter and work her tourist yayas out, I feel far more comfortable in a nice, warm environment, working with my hands and teaching you how to not completely suck at this job.”

  “You’re paraphrasing, right?”

  “A cookie for the attack dog.”

  “Kennedy told you to say that, didn’t she?” he snarked and the armorer laughed.

  “Guilty,” she replied.

  “Well, not to be all sentimental or anything, but I’m actually enjoying my time spent around you too,” Savage replied. “Even if you are a Joe Montana fangirl.”

  “How can one not be a fangirl of the greatest quarterback to ever play the position?” she quipped in response.

  “Well, one couldn’t,” Savage admitted. “Which is why I wonder why you’re a Montana fangirl.”

  Amanda responded with a one-fingered salute before she focused on her work.

  “Anyway, the point I tried to make was that while you’re here, having the time of your…well, year, what is Bev up to?” he asked, changing the subject quickly. He didn’t want to piss off the woman who had one of his magnetic pistols in her hand and knew how to use it.

  “Well, I actually tricked Anderson’s wife and kid into exploring the city with her,” she replied. “She’s a huge Rocky fan, so they spent most of yesterday going through the sights from the movie if her Facebook feed is anything to go by. So long as I show up for lunch and dinner in a slutty dress, Bev appears to be fine with it.”

  “Have you asked her about her feelings?” Savage wondered, finished the second coil, and pulled up the boot it was supposed to go into.

  “Who died and made you Dr. Phil?” Amanda demanded.

  “Well, I assume Dr. Phil would have to die for me to be Dr. Phil, but that’s not the point,” he replied with a smirk. “I’m only saying that while you’re enjoying yourself here, I think Bev might have come over to spend time with you, engaging in both your interest of weapons engineering as well as her love of boxing films starring short Italian actors.”

  She looked up from her work. “And you would know this how?”

  “I never claimed any knowledge,” he replied and tried to shrug without letting it interrupt what he was doing with his hands. “But being outside a relationship—or most relationships, really—gives a guy perspective, you know?”

  Amanda nodded. “Well, I guess I could spend more time with her while we’re here. I’ll talk to her about it at dinner later tonight.”

  “Which means I’m probably uninvited from dinner tonight,” he added.

  “Social convention dictates that I protest weakly,” she pointed out and changed her voice to a slightly higher pitch. “Oh, no, there’s no need for you to not come to dinner with us. I’ll be able to have an intimate conversation with my girlfriend with you around.”

  “And social convention on my part dictates that I come up with a bullshit excuse to get out of your weak re-invitation.” He altered his tone to deeper and more accommodating, but with a trace of humor. “Forget about it. I have a thing to do at that allotted time in the evening anyway. You two kids have fun.”

  She grinned. “Thanks, Savage.”

  “No problem. Besides, it’s not actually much of a bullshit excuse anyway. I do have to be at the airport to pick Sam up. She’s gotten far enough in her recovery that the doctors cleared her to travel, which means she’ll leave sunny Monte Carlo and return to wintry Philly. Lucky bastard.”

  The armorer narrowed her eyes at him, connected the last piece of his combat suit together, and motioned for him to pass her the boot he was working on. “So, when you decided to talk to me about how my relationship with Bev was going, you knew you would have to cancel dinner anyway and you started that whole line of questioning to get us on that topic?”

  Savage handed her the boot. “I don’t know what social convention dictates in this situation. I’ll merely gloat over how genius my plan was and how well it worked while I puff an imaginary cigar.”

  “It was ingenious,” Amanda replied with a chuckle. “And you managed to help my love life while you were at it. Maybe you are Dr. Phil.”

  He grimaced. “I’ll pass on the job of having to track down the craziest of basket cases to therapize because it makes good television, thank you very much.”

  “Fair enough,” she conceded and finished the last touches on the suit. “Are you ready to take this baby out for a spin?”

  As it was mounted on a dummy, it didn’t really look like much. Amanda had explained that most of the power going into a combat suit was streamed through a single line of moving parts that powered all the suit’s other functions. This meant, hypothetically, that if you were willing to sacrifice most of the armor, you could use most of the power functions of it with a quarter of the weight and even less of the conspicuousness of wearing the full combat suit.

  Besides, with his particular model, there was more to be gained from having the power functions of the suit. The reactor on the back would power the pistols he had grown accustomed to carrying. While the selection of ammo would be a little more limited, he could still count on the weapon being considerably more powerful and versatile than the single pistol he’d previously used—in theory, anyway.

  “Let’s do this.” He stood, rolled his neck, and began to strap the pieces of the suit on over his clothes. The gauntlets would need to be included, as they were what transferred the power from the reactor to the pistols in his hands. The boots would also need to be taken from the suit as they contained the coils necessary to allow him to walk and move in the added weight of the half-suit, which was still significant compared to no suit at all.

  Once it was on, Savage immediately felt that it was a little bulky, but after a few minutes of jogging around the room, he was able to adjust to the strangeness and the unfamiliar demands. He let it carry him through most of the motions until he was ready to test it in practice combat situations.

  The first Amanda wanted to try was two cinderblocks they’d picked up from one of the abandoned warehouses in the area. As tough as they were, they would provide the perfect testing ground for the physical capabilities of what he carried around.

  He took a running start and picked up speed more rapidly than he thought he would, hurdled a few obstacles, and allowed the rudimentary software in the suit to guide him until he reached the first block. Slowing slightly, he ducked under an imaginary punch or shot and swung his fist at the block. The hand moved almost too fast and twisted his shoulder a little, but the result made it worth it when he watched the target shatter into a hundred small pieces.

  “Huh.” She grinned. “That was awesome. Do it again.”

  He agreed with her on the awesomeness of the abilities and rushed to the second one, feeling a little more comfortable with the movements and capabilities of the suit as he reached it and punched with his left hand this time. The action brought the same result. He grinned and looked at her.

  “Don’t rest on your laurels yet, Robocop. We still need to try the weapons,” Amanda reminded him and he nodded and walked to the shooting range. Moving slower was a little more awkward. The suit was built for speed and agility, not simply walking around. He drew the pistol from his right holster and aimed it downrange at the dummy they used for target practice. They’d gone through their fair share of them, and after the fifth replacement, it didn’t make sense to name them anymore. You merely got attached to the expressionless bastards that way.

  He pulled the trigger and actually felt the whine of power that flowed into the pistol. The hint of lag lasted only a few milliseconds before the needles the weapon fired hurtled downrange. He wasn’t too accurate at first since he was used to compensating for a kick that didn’t materialize with these weapons. After a few attempts, he delivered six in a tight ring in the head and seven more in the chest.

  “Why don’t you use both pistols?” Amanda asked. “You have to admit it would look cool if you’re into that…ugh, cowboy crap.”

  “It would be cool, but in a combat situation, the eye can’t track two firing lines at once,” Savage pointed out. He checked the weapons and the power situation of the suit before he moved back. “When I’m in the full suit, I can let the software control the left hand. It takes care of aiming and I simply pull the trigger, but without an HUD, I can’t do that.”

  “Good point.” She grunted and rubbed her chin, deep in thought. “Maybe we can find some kind of smart glasses to plug into your suit that’ll give you a rudimentary HUD to work with?”

  “That’s a possibility,” he agreed and holstered the weapon. “And with a trench coat or something, I can cover the bulk of the suit until I’m in a combat situation.”

  “Yeah, people will definitely call shenanigans when you’re suddenly able to jump over walls and punch through cinderblocks,” she agreed.

  “Screw cinderblocks, I’ll be able to punch through ribcages.” He grinned. “I’m actually kind of looking forward to that. But unfortunately, this is the part of the afternoon where social convention dictates when I tell you I have to head to the airport to pick Sam up. Do you want me to give you a ride?”

  “Yeah, you could get me back to my hotel for a quick shower before Bev swings past to pick me up for dinner,” she replied. “I noticed some fine-tuning issues in the suit that I don’t think I need your help with tomorrow. If you could set it up on the dummy over there, that would be great.”

  “Will do.” He began to place the pieces of his suit on the figure they’d kept it on while they’d worked on it before he locked the warehouse and they started back into town.

  Chapter Three

  As it turned out, Bev was already waiting for Amanda at the hotel, which meant Savage needed to beat an even hastier retreat than he’d planned. Apparently, the sight of her woman covered in grease and sweat from when she was working got Bev hot under the collar. The two of them headed rather hastily up to the room and left him with nothing to do but set out to pick up Sam.

  He was happy that their relationship was that healthy, he thought to himself as he drew out of the parking lot of the hotel. The first stage of his journey took him to the nearby apartment building complex Terry had called home since he’d moved there more or less permanently from his house out in the middle of nowhere. Apparently, he owned the whole area back home, the sniper had told him once while they’d been drinking, and he’d been looking into renting or selling. Courtney had, of course, made an offer on the land—more than what anyone else in the area was willing to pay for it—but since she would probably use it to build another one of her research labs, he wanted to think about it for a little while longer.

  Savage sent the man a message on his phone to let him know that his ride to the airport was there. Terry had been the first to suggest that they pick Sam up when she arrived, which made him feel a little badly about his own friendship with the woman. They’d decided that they would pick her up together and would even throw her a little welcome-home party.

  And that was about as far as they’d gone with the planning. There wasn’t much that either of them really knew about what Sam was interested in. She was big on guns, fighting, and weapons—and drinking and being promiscuous as a strong, confident woman who didn’t need a man to make the first move. But other than that, they were a little lost.

  They could always simply take her out drinking, of course, but given that she was coming out of recovery from serious injuries, Savage doubted that taking her out drinking while she was on what they could safely assume was a shit-ton of different medications was in good taste. Or safe, for that matter.

  “Have you given the coming home party any more thought?” he asked his companion as they pulled away from his apartment building.

  “I have.” Terry nodded.

  “Do you have any ideas?” he persisted when nothing else was forthcoming.

  “Not a one,” the man grumbled and shook his head. “Come on, it’s not like she knows we plan to throw anything for her. We can simply come up with something safe and secure. How long a drive is it to Disneyland?”

  “On the other side of the country?” he asked incredulously. “I think you mean Disney World, in Florida, which…is also on the other side of the country but heading south. Besides, how old do you think Sam is?”

  “Well, she’s British, so I assume she never went there as a kid and she might want to go there now as an adult.” He shrugged.

  “Right, and during all the time you’ve known Samantha Davis, do you really think she needs to get in touch with her inner child?” he asked sarcastically. “The one that wants to go out in the humid heat of Orlando, Florida, and deal with a horde of crying, screaming kids and adults who are either bored or dressed as cartoon characters. Not the one that likes to see things go boom.”