Tex's Revenge: Military Discipline, Book Two (8 page)

He shook his head. “It's very hard, harder than you might think.”

“So once you get the man, you'll let Savage and me go?”

“You'll be free to do as you please, we'll need Savage though.”

“Why?” The question came out decidedly petulant.

Tex checked his rear view mirror before replying. “The best trained dogs will only work with one handler.”

Zora looked puzzled until she worked out what Tex was getting at. Savage was 'the man's' handler. Her handler.

“It's not nice to talk about people like they're animals,” she frowned.

“I suppose not,” Tex admitted without any trace of guilt.

The road rushed by at high speed as Zora tried to digest the new information. Savage had warned her that people would be looking for her after their mission, but she hadn't really taken him seriously. That had been a mistake, one of many.

With her choices fast dwindling, Zora decided to try to stay calm and let Tex's plan unfold. If he was right Savage would come for her. She would get to see him again, get to be held by him again. She had yearned for his touch for so long that even a reunion in custody was better than no reunion at all.

She managed to keep her cool until they turned off the highway and started winding down side roads and eventually began approaching a low, squat white building surrounded by ten foot high fences topped with barbed wire. It looked like a refined prison and it made panic rise again.

“Don't take me here,” she begged.

“It's fine,” Tex said. “No harm is going to come to you. It's not a jail, see? Just a place where we keep people who need to be safe.”

They stopped at a checkpoint at the gate, which slid open slowly in front of them whilst Zora's heart pounded in her chest. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, far too nervous to sit still. Tex parked the car in the surprisingly ordinary parking lot and she found herself clinging to his arm as he walked her toward the building and through automatic sliding doors.

The lobby of the detention center looked more like a dentist's office than a jail. There was a big low desk with a well coiffed blonde woman behind it. Just like any other office, the receptionist was on the phone when they came in and they had to wait until she hung up and gave them the benefit of a polished and professional smile. The experience was surreal for Zora who was used to dirty drunk tanks and military cells and people who never smiled at all.

Tex returned the receptionist's smile when she became available. “This is Zora Matthews,” he said. “She has a room here.”

The receptionist made efficient tapping noises at a keyboard and nodded. “Room Five. You can drop her off then file the necessary papers.”

“Come on you,” Tex said, using the trusting feminine arm wrapped around his own to steer his prisoner into the depths of captivity. The place was very strange, somewhere between a prison, a hospital and an old people's home. Attempts had been made at softening the institutional lines of the place but the smell of industrial cleaners made the place unfamiliar and sterile.

Zora clutched unashamedly at Tex's sleeve when he opened a door into a plainly furnished room. “Don't leave me here,” she begged with wide eyes.

He gently pried her fingers off his arm. “You're going to be fine,” he said, rubbing her lower back reassuringly as he guided her into the room.

“I'm not going to be fine,” she insisted, grabbing his shirt front in an even firmer grip. He looked down at her hand tangled up in the fine cotton, then lowered his head and placed a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her fingers before once more unprying them from his person.

“I have to go do the paperwork,” he said, steering her towards the bed. “Why don't you try to get some rest?”

She eyed the floral draped bed suspiciously. “I don't feel tired.”

“You will when you lie down.”

All her arguing and stalling was for naught. Soon Tex was gone and she was locked up yet again. Misery and hopelessness settled over her, even though she tried to cheer herself up with the fact that she wasn't miles underground and that she could actually see out the window, even if it was barred on the outside.

Standing on the bed, she peered out over the desert. There was a small garden around the front of the detention center, watered by sprinklers that probably needed to run almost continuously to keep the ground moist. The sight of green grass amidst all the red rocks and dust did lift her mood, as did the bright flowers ranged around the edges of the building. The place had been planned to look nice. That didn't mean it was nice though.

Tiring of the view, Zora started rummaging around the room. A chest of drawers revealed some simple clothing, underwear in her size as well as a few shirts and skirts. She divested herself of her clothing and settled for wearing a singlet and her panties. It was warm enough to do so and there was no point in pretending that she had dignity anymore anyway. Tex had seen absolutely everything she had and he'd barely raised a brow at the sight. Maybe he was gay. He did dress well and his hair did have a certain floppy foppishness to it. That thought assuaged her bruised ego somewhat.

The room held a few treats in addition to the basics, there was a pile of books, all old adventure books written some time in the 1950's. It seemed like a strange choice for a prisoner, but with nothing else to take her mind off her capture, she settled down on the bed with a novel about a fighter pilot who was jolly good at everything and frequently got mixed up in very dangerous missions.

About an hour later, Tex reappeared. In spite of the fact that he was the one who'd locked her up, she smiled when he walked through the door, thoroughly relieved to see him.

“I see you're comfortable,” he said, taking in her bare legs and underwear clad bottom with a slightly raised brow.

She shrugged. “I'm not going to wear those ugly skirts.”

He shook his head vigorously at her incorrigible attitude, dumping his hair into his eyes. He pushed it out of the way with one hand whilst the other stayed on his hip in an authoritarian pose. “Young lady, you are a great deal of trouble.”

A little grin sneaked onto her face. “That's your problem, not mine.”

“I suppose I'll have to spank it out of you,” he said, coming towards her.

She squealed when he sat at the corner of the bed, grabbed her and dragged her over his lap. She found herself with her bottom very high and her head very low. His big hand settled across her pantied behind and patted it in a friendly fashion. “Am I going to have to spank you, Miss Matthews?”

“No!” She squealed, wriggling over his thighs.

“I hope not,” he said. He gave her a few lazy swats for good measure regardless, stinging her bottom with light smacks that did not hurt at all, but did a great deal to remind her that she was in his care.

She wriggled off his lap and took refuge at the head of the bed, scowling at him playfully. He'd somehow managed to completely take her mind off her situation. From being so scared at the prospect of being locked up she had vomited at the side of the road to squirming around on her jail bed in her underwear, she'd come a long way and it was all because of him.

He flickered a wink at her and she broke into a shy smile. She was all locked up far away from anyone she knew, but this suave man with his no-nonsense attitude and patient demeanor was making her feel incredibly safe. “I'm glad you're settling down,” he smiled, praising her. “Things will be as pleasant for you here as you allow them to be.”

“What about for Savage?”

“You mean, for the man you hate who used you and abandoned you?” Tex raised a stern brow at her and made a tutting sound. “You really must learn to keep your lies straight little girl, you are far too eager to learn the fate of a man you pretend to hate.”

Zora stuck her tongue out. “Just because I want to know what you're going to do to him doesn't mean I care about him.”

“I think you'll find it does,” Tex contradicted her. “You're not a very good liar I'm afraid Zora. Better to stick to the truth with me, you'll find it much easier on that hide of yours.”

Zora withdrew her tongue and bit it. She was tempted to boast that she was a very good liar indeed and very talented besides, but that would not likely help her cause at all. Still, she couldn't help but fantasize a little about how grand it would be to declare that she was the one who had disarmed the nuke. He wouldn't push her around so easily then, would he?

“What are you looking so smug about?” Tex inquired, his deep voice lightened with amusement.

“Nothing,” Zora lied.

“There you go again,” he sighed. “Don't worry little girl, I'll have your secrets out of you soon enough.”

Chapter Six

In the slow light of a new day Zora stood on her bed, chewed a nail and fretted over her situation. She was all locked up, caged like a rat. Would Savage come? He had to come. He just had to. The thought of seeing him again made her feel a little weepy. It would be so nice to melt into his arms, to let him fight for the both of them. She felt like she'd been fighting alone for a long time and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it up. Tex was starting to wear her down, he was starting to get under her skin, into her head – and more dangerously still, he was starting to make her feel safe.

She craned her neck around, looking out the window and trying to catch sight of any other people. As tempting as it was to just lie down and go with the flow, she had to keep alert, had to keep looking for a way out just in case he didn't come.

A large dark four wheel drive had pulled up at the front gate. She squinted her eyes, trying to see who was inside but the windows were tinted and the car was so far away she probably wouldn't have been able to make out any faces anyway. She was so intent on her task that she didn't hear the door open. It wasn't until Tex cleared his throat behind her that she spun around blushing as if she'd been caught in some naughty act.

He pointed towards the floor. “Come down off there, put some clothes on and join me for breakfast.”  That was it, no 'Good morning', no 'How did you sleep?' Just orders. She frowned at him, noticing that he was looking slick in a dark suit with a white shirt and black pencil tie. There was something else different about him too. Was it his hair? His hair seemed to be a little shorter and tidier, but that wasn't it.

“The mustache!” She declared triumphantly, pointing a finger at him.

He smiled and ran a hand over his clean-shaven face. “I put it away for a while.”

She nodded, looking at him appraisingly. He looked a little younger without the mustache, but he also looked much more institutional, much more straight laced. The jean clad bikie reporter in the bar was long gone now.

He made an impatient motion with his hand. “Come on girl, get dressed.” He clearly wasn't comfortable with the way she insisted on running around in her underwear so often. She sort of liked that, it made her feel a little bit powerful.

“I'll get dressed if I can find something to wear.” She stepped off the bed and pulled out the dresser drawers, looking for something that wouldn't make her vomit on contact. There wasn't much there. She found a few sundresses, which she threw over her shoulder dismissively, a couple long skirts and one shorter one, though it would still have covered her knees.  She craned her neck around at him. “Do you people have something against pants?”

“Most women appreciate the wardrobe here,” Tex said, the disapproval thick in his voice. His hands twitched by his sides, as if he were sorely tempted to grab her and dress her himself.

“I doubt that,” Zora said, wrinkling her nose.

“Well that's all there is at the moment.” He made the statement a final one, one that wasn't supposed to brook any dissent.

“Then I guess I'm not getting dressed today,” Zora insisted.

His sigh was a low rumble as he gesticulated in frustration. “Must you put up such a fuss about clothes?”

“Yes, I must.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, giving him a shrewd look. “I know what you're trying to do. Clothes aren't just clothes, they reflect who a person is. You're trying to make me wear all this stupid flowery stuff so I get all soft and do what you want.”

Tex snorted. “That's a little ridiculous, don't you think?”

“If it's so ridiculous, you put on a dress.”

“Now you're being silly.”

“Why?”

“Because men don't wear dresses.”

“Maybe they should.”

“Zora, put something on,” he sighed again.

“No. You're sexist, that's what you are,” she declared. “And I'm not putting anything on.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him fiercely. She was very much convinced of her point, that all the dresses and skirts were no accident, he was trying to shape her, trying to mold her into something he would find useful. Little by little he'd shave all her corners and edges off until she no longer recognized herself.

“It's not sexist to give a pretty lady a nice dress,” Tex said, trying flattery.

“I'll wear a dress when you wear one,” Zora insisted, turning away in an attempt to end the conversation. She felt a brief rush of panic when she heard the door shut and lock again. Tex had gone without saying a word. It was very possible that she'd managed to talk herself out of breakfast. She hoped that wasn't the case, her tummy was growling. She hadn't eaten since the previous day and she was famished.

Withdrawing to the bed to pout, she convinced herself that she wasn't being petty. You had to remember who you were in these sorts of situations. You had to remember what you stood for. They'd tried to break her down in the compound and failed, she was determined Tex wouldn't be any more successful, even if he was being more subtle about it.

Half an hour later, he was back with a bundle of dark blue denim which he tossed at her. She caught it and shook it out to discover that he'd found her some jeans. They were still ladies jeans with gathering around the waistband and little flowers embroidered on the pockets, but they were better than the alternatives.