Mercenary Courage (Mandrake Company) Read Online Free Page A

Fleet officer muddied the waters. Fleet usually left him alone, but Viktor had bounties on his head on a couple of planets and had made a prominent finance lord disappear not that long ago. If the military wanted a reason to make trouble for him, it wouldn’t have to look far. Maybe this was a setup, with Sherkov trying to provoke him into violence in front of witnesses. Who was the third man? Undercover Station Security?
    “I won’t bother you anymore then, but we were trying to settle a bet and thought you might help.” Sherkov stopped behind him, apparently unwilling to take silence for an answer.
    Viktor adjusted his position so he could watch the men, since having them at his back made his shoulder blades itch.
    “Sir,” Azarov said and tilted his chin toward the doorway.
    Viktor had already seen her walk in, and he held back another grimace. He wanted nothing more than to see Ankari—especially since she was wearing form-hugging trousers and a wrap tunic that accented her lithe figure wonderfully—but this was not the time. Not while he was dealing with the ship’s business and certainly not while this idiot was mocking him. It was bad enough that Borage and Azarov were here for it. He doubted Borage would start rumors, but a few words from the young sergeant, and the entire ship would know that its captain had done nothing while being harassed.
    “Is that her?” Sherkov asked, noticing Ankari—as soon as Viktor had glanced in her direction, she had waved cheerfully. “The reason you lost your balls, Mandrake? I’d heard she was the reason for the pink shuttle, but is she the reason you couldn’t fight worth spit at Nimbus? Too busy thinking about getting your cock sucked to shoot straight?”
    Viktor clenched his fist, hot fury burning through his veins, almost blurring his vision with its intensity. He could handle being mocked for a paint job, but this implication that he was inept...
    Adrenaline flooded his veins, and his muscles bunched, straining at his shirt, craving action. He envisioned leaping on Sherkov, ripping off his head, and shoving it up his ass.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ankari’s step falter, concern blossoming on her face. She must have heard Sherkov’s words. The captain had dropped into a fighting stance, clearly anticipating Viktor’s attack, but he took the time to give a slight nod to the Fleet captain.
    It was a trap. He didn’t know who had instigated it or what these people ultimately wanted, but he forced himself not to act, no matter how much he wanted to pound on this twit.
    “Deck Ten, Sherkov,” Viktor said, his body still hot, still craving a fight.
    “What?” The mercenary’s brow furrowed.
    “That’s where the gym is on this station. You have a problem with me, you meet me on the mat there at eighteen hundred hours.” The rules on the judo mat were different; if Sherkov accepted his challenge, Viktor could pummel him to within an inch of death, and the law couldn’t touch him. He smiled wolfishly, relishing this thought. Maybe Sherkov would even give him a challenge, let him work out his fury over the entire last month on something more satisfying than the punching bag in his cabin.
    Uncertainty flashed across Sherkov’s face, and he glanced at the Fleet captain again.
    “Bring your new friend if you want,” Viktor said, his voice soft. “I’ll welcome it.”
    The Fleet captain’s lip twitched, but he did not otherwise react. He waved to a mechanic near the shop entrance and headed in that direction, giving Ankari a curious look as he walked past her. Viktor stared at Sherkov, hoping the man saw how much Viktor wanted to see him at eighteen hundred hours. On the off chance he showed up, maybe Viktor would invite Ankari to watch.
    “I’m... busy tonight,” Sherkov said. “Busy thinking up ways to keep my crew alive and not sacrifice them in a fool’s war.” He flipped his hand and stalked off.
    Viktor ground his teeth, irritated