In Arrears (10 page)

Kruz pursed his wrinkled lips. “You didn’t have any when you got here.”

Roth scowled at him. “I have clothes in my rooms.”

Kruz smiled. It wasn’t pretty. “What you did have were rope burns on your wrists, a manacle welt around your ankle, and signs of chafing around your eyes and your throat.”

Roth slapped on his smiling poker face. “You don’t say?” He slid off the bed and stood.
Fuck it, I’ll walk to my rooms the way I am.
His ankles wobbled under him. He grabbed onto the bed.

Kruz sniffed deeply. “I just restored your hands and feet. Walking may be a bit iffy for a while, especially as it looked to me like they’d been out of commission for about a week.”

Roth tugged on his short hospital robe. “I’ll deal with it.”

Kruz raised one wrinkled finger. “One more thing.”

Roth practically snarled at the little man. “What now?”

Kruz smiled even wider than before, showing his oddly straight teeth. “Nice shave.”

Roth jerked his gaze downward. There for all the world to see were his smoothly shaven legs. Roth rolled his eyes.
“Son of a bitch!”
He ripped the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his hips.
Goddamn it, I’m getting dressed now!

He marched barefoot and dragging the sheet, out of medical, through the halls, and all the way back to his suite with a glare on his face that dared anyone to approach him on pain of death.

Roth sat with his back to his massive lamp-lit desk, hunched deep in his black and gold overcoat, one knee folded over the other with a lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He stared through the panes of the tall gothic arched window at the drizzling rain and the darkening sky. Behind him on his desk was a pile of papers that he was supposed to be pushing...writing reports that were more than a few years overdue, reading this, signing that, blah, blah, blah...

He scratched the thigh of his creased black pants, annoyed by the itch from the new hair growing on his legs. Absently, he wondered if he should just shave it all off. He’d already decided to keep his nether regions shaved. He just couldn’t take the feeling of hair being there.

And then there was the
other
annoyance in his life—his libido.

With all the shapely young women running around headquarters in tight black clothes, one would expect that he’d have a near constant erection. Nope. His dick had shown no interest in anyone at all. For once in his life, his dick was actually behaving.

Until he fell asleep...then the fucker went into overdrive.

Every single night since his return, he’d had painfully erotic dreams about a man whose face he couldn’t see, but whose body he could most definitely feel—and it wasn’t Fox.

Jerking off before he went to bed hadn’t done anything to stop the dreams because for some reason, jerking off wasn’t getting him off.
Nothing
was getting him off. He had no problems getting hard; the problem was
finishing
. Even his most inspirational titty magazines had been a total loss.

Roth drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair and scowled at his reflection in the window glass. He had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him, but he sincerely hoped his
problem
fixed itself soon. He was sick and tired of changing his sheets first thing in the morning.

However, what was really preying on his mind was his rather mysterious return to headquarters last week. He still had no idea who had brought him back, or how he’d even gotten back. Strangely, no one else did either. Apparently, he’d just
appeared
in the hospital wing.

Unfortunately, the only person who could give him answers was the one person he hadn’t been able to find. He hadn’t seen base commander Colonel Johan Kessler even once since his return. The tall, dark-haired, slate-eyed man in the oval glasses was definitely there at headquarters. Everyone mentioned seeing him just about everywhere in the massive and rambling castle, yet
he
hadn’t seen a trace of him once.

His cigarette clamped tightly in his teeth, he rose from his chair with a heavy sigh and grabbed his gold-trimmed hat. Only one way to discover what he needed to know and that was to hunt down the elusive, scatter-brained, flibberty-jibbit of a commander himself. Determined, he strode from the office in his suite of rooms and into the stone-walled, window-lined hallway. He’d choke the answers out of him if necessary.

Twenty minutes later, Roth entered the headquarters library, which also happened to be the commander’s office. His boot heels clopped on the aged floorboards.

Kessler’s ever-harried personal secretary, First Lieutenant Fischer padded back and forth between staff members with their arms piled with papers. His blond hair was spiked into disarray from finger-combing it one too many times.

Roth tapped his shoulder and kept his voice low. “Have you seen the commander?”

Fischer blinked. “Eh, Colonel Kessler? Isn’t he right over there?” He turned and pointed toward the massive stone fireplace in corner and the broad desk very nearly buried under papers, books, and maps before it. The desk chair was empty, but quivering, as though someone had left it in a big hurry. A curl of steam rose from the cup of coffee sitting in the only cleared spot on the desk.
 

Fischer frowned. “Where’d he go?”

Roth snorted. It seemed that the commander
was
avoiding him. He strode for the door and waved absently in Fischer’s direction. “Thanks anyway.”

Fischer frowned and scratched at his head, mussing his hair even more. “Yeah, sure.”

Roth marched through the hallway and took the rattling antique elevator down two levels. He opened the gates and stepped into the huge mortared stone sub-basement that had once been a dungeon. The company used the various rooms as training areas for weapons practice, field medical training, and hand-to hand combat. The very last and largest room was an indoor firing range.

Dead center in the middle of the room was his personal aid, First Lieutenant Ash. The young man was loading a sniper rifle he’d apparently been practicing with. His silver-blond hair gleamed under the floodlights, along with the silver trim and buttons on his black uniform.

Roth walked up behind Ash. “Hey, Ash, have you seen Johan?”

Ash visibly flinched and glanced over his shoulder. “The commander? I just saw him, over there.” He pointed at the door on the far end of the room.

Roth nodded and strode past him.

Ash grabbed Roth’s sleeve. “Hey, he’s not in any kind of...trouble, is he?”

Trouble...?
Roth’s lifted his brows. “Not that I know of. I just haven’t seen him since I got...back.”

Ash tilted his head and blinked. “Oh?”

Roth turned away searching for a semi-logical excuse to be looking for the commander, though he wasn’t exactly sure why he was bothering with an excuse. He shrugged casually. “I have a couple of questions about some...paperwork.”

It wasn’t even a lie. Considering that
all
mission reports ended up on Colonel Kessler’s desk, it was safe to say that Johan knew exactly where Roth had spent the last week. This meant he’d also know
who
had gotten him out of there. Roth was
very
interested in the answer to that particular question.
 

 
“Ah...” Ash smiled, though it looked a little strained. “He went to the artifacts hall in the old north belltower.”

“Thanks.” Roth strode off with a frown while puffing on his cigarette. What the hell was going on? He tossed his cigarette butt, crushed it out under his boot-heel. Suddenly, he had a few
more
questions for the elusive commander.

Up a staircase, down a long hall, and up yet another antiques elevator... The old north bell tower was in fact, no longer a bell tower. It was massive room two stories tall with nearly floor to ceiling gothic arched windows. It was also jam-packed with artifacts still in their packing crates large and small. More than a few of the smaller pieces were already ensconced in sealed cases of inch-thick, bullet-proof, safety-glass on pedestals, but there were hundreds more still draped with dust-covers.

It was amazing what some governments would use to pay off a mercenary army.

Roth moved silently among the shadows under the dim light from the low-hanging cast iron chandeliers. Rain spattered the night dark windows.

A man in a long black coat moved in the farthest corner.

Roth smiled grimly.
Ah, there he is.
He ducked into the deeper shadows, moving swiftly to intercept. Johan wasn’t getting away from him this time.

In the farthest corner of the artifacts hall, the headquarters commander, Colonel Johan Kessler, flopped down on the edge of a sheet-draped chase lounge. He perched his elbows on his knees and folded his hands tightly together. The gold trim on his black coat and matching creased trousers practically glowed in the half-light. In contrast, the long, tendrils of his blue-black hair fell over his shoulders like spilled ink. Behind his oval glasses, his slender brows were lowered and his narrow-eyed gaze was focused downward. His twiddling thumbs didn’t quite hide the pronounced frown on his lips. He appeared to be meditating rather fiercely on one particular flagstone on the floor.

Roth casually stepped out of the shadows. “Evening, Kessler.”

The commander’s head shot up to stare straight at Roth. His black eyes went wide, his lips parted, and his face went bone white. He threw out his hands and leapt to his feet, his coat flaring wide. A strained smile appeared. “Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Jaeger, how...um, nice to see you!” He pointed over his shoulder. “I was just leaving.” He turned to step away.

Roth snorted. “No, you’re not.”

Kessler froze, one foot lifted. “I’m not?”

Roth casually reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “The exit door is behind me.”
Idiot...
He tapped the pack against the heel of his hand to bounce a cigarette partway from the paper pack.

Kessler set his foot down, and slowly turned to squint beyond Roth’s shoulder. His shoulders drooped. “Wh-why, so it is.” His lips lifted into a trembling smile. “Silly me.”

Roth set the raised cigarette to his lips and pulled it free of the pack. The commander was clearly terrified of him, which meant he was definitely feeling guilty about something. He raised his lighter to the end of his cigarette and inhaled to light it. “So...” He blew out a puff of smoke. “How’ve you been?”

The dark-coated commander tilted his head slightly to the side, his glasses flashing in the half-light. His brows lifted. “How have...
I
been?”

“Yeah.” Roth tucked his lighter away. “I haven’t seen you in, oh a month or so?” He smiled with his teeth. “Since before I got back, in fact.”

Kessler turned his head, yanking his gaze from Roth’s and pressed his fingertips together. “Oh, well, I’ve been...busy! Yeah, busy!” He shrugged and put on a happy smile. “You know, with the move from the old headquarters to the new.” He nodded with short, sharp jerks. “Very, very, busy!”

“Yeah, whatever...” Roth waved his cigarette and took a casual step toward the clearly flustered commander. “Look, I just want to ask you a question.”

Kessler blinked, clearly startled. “Oh?” His shoulders straightened a bit and his lips relaxed into a more comfortable smile. “Okay.” He tugged on the lapels of his coat. “How can I help you?”

Roth pulled his cigarette from his lips, turned his head, and blew out a long breath of smoke. “Since all the reports go to you, you obviously know exactly where I was...that week.” He raised his brow in emphasis.

Kessler flinched and his cheeks flushed pink.

Roth smiled.
Oh yeah, you know all right.
“So, who got me out of there?”

Kessler’s face drained of all expression and went dead white.

Roth’s brows shot up.
What the hell...?

Kessler swallowed but held Roth’s gaze. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

Roth bared his teeth, fisted his hands at his sides, and shouted at the top of his lungs. “
What
?!”

Kessler lifted both hands, palm out, and shook his head. “It’s classified, as is where you were and...what you were doing.” He dropped his hands to his sides and took a deep breath, his gaze steady on Roth’s. “I assure you, no one knows; absolutely
no one
in the building beyond you and me.”

Roth curled his lip and took another step closer. “And Kruz.”

Kessler shook his head. “All he has is guesses. I’ve confirmed nothing.”

Roth’s voice dropped to a growl. “How do
I
know the person that got me out of there will keep their mouth shut?”

Kessler looked away to release a tight chuckle and rolled his eyes. “Believe me, Jaeger, they have no intention of
ever
breathing a word.” He winced, and a drop of sweat trickled down from his temple. “They
like
breathing.”

Something about Kessler’s strained voice struck an oddly familiar chord in Roth’s memory. Suspicion began to brew. He narrowed his eyes.
That last guy, the one with the needle, it couldn’t have been...him?