Page 26 of Savage Escape

“So, fast and stealthy, then?” He quirked an eyebrow and nudged the water bucket at her again.

“That’s what I’m thinking. Usually want to avoid direct confrontation but... well, it’s either die by torture and thereby infection or die fighting. And you seem like the die-fighting type.” She’d thought that’d sound a lot less corny out loud.

“A trait we share.” He smiled that crooked smile at her, and Caden couldn’t help roll her eyes and violently obliterate the butterflies in her stomach.

Fuckingbutterflies!

Like she was some kind of teenager with all that hormone imbalance and pent-up sexual frustration.

It didn’t take all that long to plan. Their options were few and far between. It took maybe ten minutes in all to plan, two minutes to cringe over, and maybe sixty seconds to get over and focus on the point zero one percent chance of success. At least it was something. Which, unfortunately, left a whole lot of time for Nathan to do his talking thing.

“So, can I ask you a question?”

“Savage—no more little heart-to-hearts—I believe I already covered that bit. Me and you, we are not friends. Sothe conversation topics are restricted to: weather, rats, and escaping.”

“Ahh!” He actually flinched back and looked hurt. “We—me and you,” he mimicked her hand movement and raised his voice a few octaves, “we are friends.”

“How do you figure?” What exactly went on in that weird brain of his? Was everything cupcakes and rainbows?

They were not friends. They were cellmates, plain and simple. Any affection he was feeling towards her was because they’d been forced to... coincide over the same emotion-heavy adrenaline-filled experience. And vice versa. Right?

“Caden, you told me your real name.” Like that was some kind of stepping stone. “And you have mine. I like you. You like my abs.”

“They are your best feature.” Caden refused to blush at having been caught staring again. Damn it.

“Next to my intelligence and sparkling personality, you mean?” Curling his arm and flexing his stomach, he quirked an eyebrow. “Right?” Oy.

“Yeah, definitely what I meant.” She couldn’t help but smile when he chuckled.

“You know about my six brothers. I know the story behind one of your scars.Weare friends.”

“Whatever.” Because she could think of nothing to say in rebuff, Caden scowled at the giant and frantically tried to rack her brain for the reasons that they were not friends. There were reasons. Good, legitimate, logical reasons. What the hell were they? “Shut up.”

It was then that the former soldier smiled like he’d won the lottery, which did funny, fluttery things to the Mercenary’s stomach. So Caden decided the best possible defense was to ignore him and pretend to sleep.

Fucking butterflies!

10

NATHAN

“Can I ask you a question?” Considering how perilously close Nathan was to squealing and clapping his hands together like an excitable preteen, the squeak in his voice was forgivable. He was trying very hard to keep it casual, so maybe she could overlook the personal nature of most of his questions and answer.

“Shut up, Savage.” She huffed and finally decided to stop pretending to sleep.

Sure, the actual plan of escape wasn’t all that... reasonable in the whole ‘staying alive’ scheme of things, but at least it was something. What actually had him repressing his squeals of glee and going for the more manly and acceptable nod of approval was the fact that Caden Quinn now had two feet firmly on the right side of the veil.

It was like… hell, he didn’t have a proper comparison for the swirling sense of relief and victory in his chest. She’d quit her kamikaze nose dive and was set on escaping.

“Come on—it ain’t gonna be that personal.” Try as he might (okay, so he didn’t at all) to swallow all the questions burning his tongue, he just couldn’t keep quiet. If there was even theslightest chance that he’d get any kind of info on her, he would. She flopped an arm over her eyes and then hissed as her cuts pulled, but otherwise ignored him.

“Okay, how about a trade?” Nathan watched her lips purse and couldn’t help but wet his own.

“What is it you think that I want from you?” She lifted her arm and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m sure there is something you want to know about me, or my job, or how I keep this body so delectable.” He tried for a sinuous hand glide down his front but hit his bruised side and tried not to visibly wince. She only rolled her eyes at him. There was something. She was biting at her lip and looking even more apprehensive of him—like she was trying to figure out why the hell he cared so much. “So how ‘bout it? An answer for an answer.”

She mulled it over, chapped bottom lip under her teeth.

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