Page 30 of Savage Escape

Nathan did his part by working up a good froth and letting it drool down his chin while he jerked and shook and won a fucking Oscar in seizing. He’d wanted to play the part as already dead, but Caden had insisted saying there was a difference between already dead and getting there.

Nathan kept on seizing as they yelled at the helpless woman.

He couldn’t see her as it was but she was still doing a very convincing freaked out woman.

“Do you speak English?” A heavy Russian accent sounded over her fake sobs.

Caden didn’t answer in any language he could understand. She just kept repeating the same phrase over and over.

“Back away.” Metal creaked on metal and adrenaline spiked in his system. She’d done it. Nathan would have smiled if he wasn’t foaming at the mouth and trying to convince the slop dealer and his guard that he was dying.

Cold metal nudged his side. He kept on convulsing. A steel-toed boot kicked him. Nathan could see the man’s face when he leaned over to peer at him. “Can you speak?”

Nathan shot up, shoved the barrel of the AK-47 aside (so as to avoid getting gut shot), and jerked it out of the man’s hold. The guard reeled back, tried to regain his balance, and threw a clumsy fist at Nathan’s neck. Nathan blocked the blow with his forearm and sent a right hook to connect with the man’s jaw. It was a solid hit, but he must have had a reinforced jaw because the man didn’t go down; he just kinda stumbled around for a bit. So Nathan helped him to the ground by aiming a kick at his kneecap. It crunched under his bare heel and the man let out a pained screech before he collapsed.

“Wait!” Caden was at his side, gripping his arm. “He called it in.” She bent to retrieve the AK-47 and pointed it at the moaning man’s head. She said something threatening in Russian.

Nathan wasn’t sure what that meant, but he could connect the dots. Something about calling it in and a time frame to do it in.

“Odin.” One.

The guard did some especially pathetic groaning and bleeding, but otherwise remained still.

“Dva.” Two.

Shaking his head, he started sputtering and looking terrified.

“Tri.” Three.

“Okay—friend—okay?” He held up his hands and nodded his head like it could save his life. “Friend. Please, do not kill me. Okay? Friend. Okay?”

He kept on nodding, took a deep breath, and called it in. As soon as he was done, his hands went back up and Caden bashed him in the temple with the butt of his own gun.

Both were big men. One man, however, had some girth on him so Nathan got to stripping him of his dirty jeans, weird sweater vest thing, and his shoes. Christ, it would feel so nice to wear things like socks and shoes again.

“You think these will fit you?” She tugged off the unconscious man’s boot and chucked it in his direction. “They sure as hell ain’t gonna fit me.”

Step one: get clothes and weapons. Check.

Step two: stealth it out and hope no one is the wiser.

Not a real rock-solid plan, but it was the only one they had. Suited up and armed, they started for the door.

“Wait,” Caden halted abruptly, and Nathan had to move left to avoid plowing her over.

“What?” He breathed, trying to listen for the approaching threat, but all he could hear was the steady beat of his heart in his ears.

The Hitter whirled around, got on her toes, gripped a handful of his hair, and dragged his head down to kiss him full on the mouth. Nathan froze in shock, but that quickly dissolved when her teeth nipped at his lip and she fisted his hair.

The torture, escaping, men with guns, rats—it all melted away and a fire lit in his gut. It was hot and hard. There was no gentle and sweet with Caden. Dazedly, Nathan wondered where the gun that had been in his hand went but that didn’t matter because her tongue was in his mouth lighting a fire that went straight to his dick.

She pulled away first, panting and grinning up at him like she was privy to some secret.

“You can put me down now.”

Nathan was surprised to realize that he had her shoved up against the wall with his knee between her thighs. Apparently, he had no control or presence of mind when it came to Caden.

Guilt ate at him; here he was, losing control and shoving her around like she hadn’t been beaten and cut and whipped within an inch of death. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, the former soldier removed his hands from her body and reluctantly set her back on her feet.

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