Free Mercenary Courage (Mandrake Company) by Ruby Lionsdrake

burgeoning bruises only added to that menace, and Ankari was glad she was not the recipient of his glare. Later, he might admit that he had relished the battle, but he would not let Sherkov know that.
    “Not me, Mandrake,” Sherkov said. “I figured you would want a true challenge. That’s why I brought Na.” He continued to stand against the wall, his shoulder brushing it, but he edged toward the door.
    “What I want is to know why you’re hounding me.”
    Sherkov hitched a shoulder and took a couple more steps toward the door. “Money to be made.”
    “Are you done?” Viktor asked. He had not yet moved to head off Sherkov, but his eyes closed to slits.
    Still standing by the doorway, Ankari tried to draw his attention, wondering if Viktor wanted her to stop Sherkov or step aside to let him go.
    “Probably,” Sherkov said, taking a couple more steps, his focus never leaving Viktor. Did he see her? Did he not consider her a threat?
    When Viktor did not move, Sherkov strode toward the door, his grip tight around his pistol. Ankari shifted her weight, thinking of stopping him with a kick to the knee, but Viktor sprang, moving so quickly, she almost didn’t register it until he was on top of Sherkov.
    Sherkov jerked his pistol up, but Viktor knocked it aside with so much force that the other captain’s hand cracked against the wall like a hammer striking, and he gasped, the weapon falling from his grip. Viktor spun him into the wall, smashing his face against the unyielding metal. He tried to struggle, to push away, but he had even less luck escaping than the martial arts practitioner had.
    “Henry,” Sherkov called. “Sebastian?”
    The men who had left? Ankari put her back to the doorjamb, so she could see if anyone headed back toward the gym, but the captain’s call was not very loud, and his allies were not lingering in sight.
    Viktor stabbed something into Sherkov’s neck. Ankari jumped, her first thought that it was a knife. But Viktor would not kill Sherkov in cold blood. At least, she didn’t think so.
    With the first soft hiss, she realized what he had done. It was the injector he held, not a blade.
    After another fifteen or twenty seconds of struggling—and threatening Viktor that Fleet would show up any minute for him—Sherkov slumped against the wall, his will to fight dissolving. Along with his will to resist questions, Ankari guessed.
    “Who paid you?” Viktor asked.
    “Lotsa people pay me,” Sherkov said, not a hint of resistance in his voice. As with his body, his words had gone limp, acquiescent.
    “Who paid you to try and get me arrested?” Viktor repeated.
    “Oh. That.” Sherkov giggled.
    Ankari lifted her brows. That was an alarming sight and sound coming from the scarred captain.
    “Captain Xu, of course,” Sherkov said. “He’s a young up-and-comer, you know. Trying to kiss all the right asses. Someone in Fleet doesn’t like you real well, Mandrake.”
    “No kidding. Got anyone specific in mind?”
    The letter to Captain Xu had been from an Admiral Petrakis, but Viktor must think someone even higher up was after him.
    “Nah,” Sherkov said, “it doesn’t pay to ask questions when you’re dealing with the Fleet. Best not to attract their notice, if you catch my meaning. But you aren’t that smart, are you? You get noticed all the time. Dumb boy, Mandrake. Real dumb.”
    “The men who ambushed me in the hall,” Viktor said, adjusting his grip on the back of Sherkov’s jacket. The man looked like he would slump to the ground if Viktor let him go. “Were they yours? Or Xu’s?”
    “Mine, except for two, the ones with...” Sherkov turned his neck, his eyes crossing as they tried to find the injector Viktor held. “Yup, that’s what they had.”
    “Those were Fleet men?”
    “Xu’s men.”
    “What questions did they intend to ask me?”
    “Hell, I don’t know, Mandrake,” Sherkov said. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes had a glassy