Page 11 of Savage Escape

“Of course, I noticed, Savage. There’s been a big gaping hole in my life since you’ve been gone.” Voice high and squeaky, like he was channeling a thirteen-year-old girl. “You were the very best and the most handsome agent on my case.”

“Well, Quinn, I’d miss me too. What with my extraordinary good looks and keen sense of style, no longer a major presence in your life... I can understand you getting all emotional like that.”

“Keen sense of style!?” Now he was lying through his teeth. “Savage—you are the worst dressed man I have ever—there is nothing keen about socks and sandals! Or fanny packs!”

Dammit, she’d engaged.

“That was one time!” He was scoffing and all kinds of outraged now. “My shoes were wet! And it was cold, which was why I was wearing socks! And I was playing a part with the fanny pack.”

Caden couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. He’d caught up to her in Liverpool and it finally came down to blows when he refused to shoot her. They’d both taken a tumble into a body of water. He’d arrested her (only because Caden panicked andfroze in the water) and marched her back to his hotel. Where he’d promptly handed her off to the local official idiots to be held until the next plane to the States. She’d, of course, escaped—compared to Marskib’s dungeons, damn near everything was escapable.

“Let’s see... what could we talk about?” He settled against the wall, obviously readying himself for a long wait, and started in on his job. Or ex-job.

The first ninety minutes were interesting enough. He recounted every single case he’d worked on in the five years he’d been an agent. Though, much like a government man, kept names and real-time details to himself. The merc liked hearing how he went about successfully trapping and arresting other thieves.

But hour three rolled around and he was showing no sign of stopping or even slowing. Sure there’d be lulls in the one-sided conversation where he’d get up to take a lap around the small space, pause to think on the next topic, and go to the bathroom. But right when she was about to nod off, he’d start up again and slap her back into reality. As hard as she tried, his voice was too gravelly and deep to block out.

When he’d exhausted art theft, past missions, the finer points of accurate record keeping, and how he only missed being a government bloodhound occasionally, Caden was starting to get frustrated. He moved on from government work to his time as a Special Ops Soldier. And not even the good bits, it was another long list of How To’s.

Proper gun care, how to correctly setup camp, evading the enemy, the importance of foot care whilst in the field, his absolute hatred for MREs and how much he missed Ellen’s cooking when he was in the field. She tried to fall asleep but every time she nodded off, his voice cut through her doze and slapped her right back into awake mode.

Hour four was when her resolve to not kill the bastard started to waver. How could any human being talk for four hours straight and still have something to say? But Caden beat that urge back down, remembered that she didn’t kill good men, and breathed deeply.

If she could perch on a window ledge for seven hours to wait for the leader of the Azarik to walk through her crosshairs, then she sure as fuck could listen for hours on end while he jabbered on. She would outlast him. There was no other option; she was going to beat him. He was eventually gonna run out of things to say.

She’d actually managed to doze off near hour six (six hours and her ears had grown accustomed to the tilts and twangs of his southern drawl so it became easier to block him out) and woke up to him still gabbing away. Judging by the color of daytime coming through the tiny window, she’d been out at least two hours.

He’d moved on from tedious How To’s and started talking about random shit. Like how much he hated reality TV—‘cause first of all, there was nothing realistic about it and secondly, it was horrible. He’d had to endure it for a whole three days when he got out of intensive care. Caden wanted to ask what the hell was he doing in the ICU in the first place but squashed the urge. Reminding herself that she didn’t give a shit, and she was supposed to be focusing on dying.

“I have a problem with teal. I don’t know what it is about half blue and half green, but I hate it. Even the word is ugly. Teal. Blue and green are fine by themselves, but when they are together... it’s ugly.”

Tater-tots were put on the earth for his sole enjoyment and don’t tell anybody, especially not his brothers, but he was a huge fan of Martha Stewart. He and Ellen, well his adopted mother, watched the show together whenever he was home. Alot more recently since he’d retired and was currently mostly unemployed.

It was mostly because Jackson, one of his brothers, had roped him into this part-time Security Consultant job. But honestly, his heart wasn’t really in it. Again, don’t tell his brothers, because he was sure as hell gonna figure his own shit out in time. He probably just needed some time away from death.

He’d stopped briefly for the delivery of their daily snot quota. Made sure her bowl was in easy reach and started again after he’d downed his.

“I mean—come on, how many legs do ya need?! Eight, I can understand. Eight is practical when you’re an insect. But eighty freaking legs! No, it’s actually eighty to a thousand little legs. Nothin’ needs that many legs. That’s purely for scaring people. And I can admit that I do literally get struck dumb with terror. Oh man, you shoulda seen my brothers.” He let out a soft chuckle, and Caden couldn’t help the upward turn of her own lips at the sound.

“Every last one of ‘em are these big, hardcore, highly trained soldiers. And we were all spending Thanksgiving at my parents’ house. I saw a millipede in the basement—I mean, a firefight or any angry Brazilian mob I’m fine with but a zillion little crawling legs and—ugh!”

He shivered beside her, and Caden had to bite back a laugh. Nathan himself was a big, hardcore, highly trained soldier and here he was admitting to being terrified of a bug.

“Anyway, I screamed loudly and very much like a little girl. All my brothers come hurdling down the stairs. Guns drawn and ready to down the intruder. They’ll never let me live that down. Ever.

“Oh, and then there was that time I peed my pants in public. Another thing they’ll never stop reminding me of. I get adultdiapers at least one holiday a year. Bunch of assholes.” He was shaking his head ruefully and when he saw that she was looking at him, he started looking all expectantly again. Like how dare she not immediately shoot down that confession with disbelief? A man like Nathan Savage would never lose control of his own bladder.

“How did you lose control of your bladder, Nathan?” All high and squeaky again, he added a hand flourish and batted his eyelashes. Jerk.

He paused again, giving her the chance to actually ask, and Caden couldn’t hold her vigil any longer.

“You? Pee yourself in public?” She added a gasp to drive the sarcasm home for him. “No! That couldn’t possibly be true.”

“Well, Caden, not that I appreciate the mockery, as I am baring my soul and all, but since you asked, I’ll tell ya.”

When she shifted to maneuver her body around to get some feeling back in her legs, his arms shot out to help her. Caden flashed her canines at him and moved to a sitting position out of his reach. Mostly scabs now. Her back was no longer on fire every time she moved, though she wouldn’t be lying on her back anytime soon.

“This was in high school, mind you, so it was like ten times more embarrassing.” He handed over her bowl, and Caden took it without thinking. “I had pneumonia in... freshman year, I think. Yeah, ‘cause it was right after Ellen and Bobby adopted us. Anyway, the medication I was on was still in my system and I just... I just peed. I couldn’t have stopped it. I only knew I was peeing ‘cause I felt something hot on my leg and some kid started pointing and laughing at me.” He shook his head again and squinched his eyes like he was in pain.

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