Page 15 of Savage Escape

“Oh.” He decided to change the subject. “How ‘bout that scar on your chest? How did you get that?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.” A small smile pulled at her lips and her hand fluttered abstractedly towards her chest.

“The long one between your...” Nathan was no blushing virgin, but Caden tended to bring a color to his cheeks. “Your breasts.”

“Broadsword.” Her left hand touched her chest, and that smirk returned.

“Are you serious? A broadsword? I mean how?”

“I was commissioned to retrieve a...” She slanted her eyes at him and her lip curled. “Certain object. The dude in possession of said object had himself a broadsword and some skills. Ended up shooting that fuck-head in the leg and the arm and the other leg—he wouldn’t stay down.” She shook her head. “Got it, got out again, went home to sew myself up, and learn some fencing.”

“Wow.” He sat back and watched the smirk go soft a tiny bit.

A smile small pulled at the corner of her mouth and Nathan suddenly got the impression that those stories, the ones of how she narrowly escaped death, how she ingeniously stole a priceless artifact, how she walked away the victor in a death match, was her ‘I jumped off the roof of my house cause I was a silly kid’ stories.

“I know, it was crazy. I mean, I’m good with knives and daggers—they’re small and practical. A broadsword is not. Why would that be his weapon of choice? What was he thinking?” She shook her head ruefully and smirked wider. “What about you? Any weird scars?”

“Uh,” he jerked his attention away from her lips and focused on answering the question “not really. Mostly just combat scars. Actually, I was once attacked by an angry flock of chickens. I’ve got like little dots all over my legs from their beaks.”

“Damn.” She smiled at him and Nathan could only stare blankly at her. “What’d you do to the chickens?”

“I was using them as target practice.” Nathan felt a niggling of guilt at the confession and the sudden urge to explain himself.

“So you deserved it.” She smirked again and folded her arms across her chest.

“Yeah, I did.” He couldn’t have her thinking that he was some heartless chicken killer. “I was like twelve and stupid. I don’t shoot at chickens anymore.”

There were a few questions the ex-agent in him was burning to ask. Like how old she was. Where she grew up. Why the hell wasn’t she in the system? And could he maybe have some of her DNA? Where had she received her training? How exactly had she robbed a thousand-pound statue of a naked guy in the middle of the damn day in Cairo?

But Nathan didn’t want to burn any bridges by spooking her, so he decided to keep them subtle and as non-threatening as possible. Although, she had thrown out her last name all willy-nilly, so maybe, she’d happily give up more information.

“How’d you get into... I mean... why are you a mercenary?” Nathan watched a rat squeeze under the door and briefly tried to imagine the rat tail friendships bracelets.

Gross was the only thing that came to mind.

“What else should I be, Savage?” Her voice turned tired and her palms turned up. Like there had never been any other option, and it was impossible to fathom being anything else.

“I don’t know... a businesswoman... an astronaut—just why a merc? I mean, there ain’t many women in that line of work. It’s dangerous and violent and I don’t see the allure—especially for a civilian.”

Honestly, he couldn’t see her as anything else, but he needed to know how she’d gotten there. How she decided to skip everything else and go straight for the thieving and killing.

“I had bills to pay.” Knuckles turned white and that hard something was back in her eyes.

“And you don’t anymore?”

The sound of combat boots stomping down the hallway had her straightening and almost frantically shoving at his arm.

“What?”

“That ain’t dinner—they don’t come for another three hours.” She was hissing and spitting and still shoving at him. “Get on the other side!”

“Why?” Though he was already up doing as he was told.

“Shh!” She was scowling hard and looking pissed off. “Don’t talk to me.”

The boots stopped at the door. He watched as the merc stiffened and carefully kept her eyes off him. A clang of the metal lock being thrown back and the door opened. Two men rushed into the room and forced him up against the far wall with just enough room around his neck to draw shallow breaths.

A third man, Kyott, waltzed with an amused and slightly surprised look on his face.

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