Page 42 of Savage Escape

“Sure. Wanna put her out first? I don’t want her coming to and freaking the fuck out on me.” Dax shouldered his automatic and started forward. Nathan snapped to attention again.

“Be careful. She’s hurt badly. Her back, thighs, and arms are all cut up and her ribs are broken. Just be careful.”

“Yeah, Nate, I’ll be careful.” Dax patted his shoulder and Jackson stepped into his line of sight.

“Can you walk outta here, or do I need to get a stretcher in here?” Eyes stern and scowling as per usual, Jackson scanned him, frown deepening.

Nathan maneuvered to watch as Dax toted Caden’s limp body out the door. Panic slithered up his spine again. Shouldn’t she have woken up already? Was it bad that she was still out of it? Was she going to wake up?

“Yeah.” Nathan took a deep, calming breath and stood to follow Caden out the door. “I can walk.”

15

JACKSON

Jackson Savage was pissed off. He wanted to throttle his fool brother. He wanted to kick Nathan’s ass up and down Russia until he figured out he couldn’t just up and leave and take a fucking vacation.

Okay—well, said like that, it sounded unreasonable, but, fuck, Jack had told him not to go unarmed. But had he listened? No. No, he hadn’t and now here they were in bum-fuck middle of nowhere Russia retrieving his ass. Jackson was well aware that his stupid brother was going through some shit, but getting himself caught and tortured was not the way to go about solving those problems.

Not that Nathan had done it on purpose. Or shit-sticks. Maybe he had.

Well, fuck, that thought was an unsettling one.

Jackson could do nothing but internally growl as that idea settled its claws into his brain and froze his blood.

If Nathan had gone to Russia with the sole purpose of getting himself... punished, was the only word his brain was supplying, then they were in more trouble than he’d thought. Jackson had thought his brother’s mental health was... well, fuck, he’dthought Nathan was just fuckin’ fine. Definitely not to the point of seeking out punishment like some damn monk.

But then again, maybe he was just thinking too much about it. Surely, he or one of the fifty thousand people in the Savage clan would have noticed the signs of depression or PTSD. Fuck, they all suffered some form of that shit and no one was exactly shy about what they needed or what they thought someone else needed in their family. In fact, everyone had an opinion about every-fucking-thing under the sun and they would gladly shove their opinions down the throats of anyone within earshot. Nate’s possible depression would not have escaped the notice of his parents, his six brothers, and that of the fifteen other people employed by SI. There was just no fucking way Nathan was that far gone.

Or maybe he was just really good at hiding it.

Jackson remembered the scrawny, angry kid that Nathan had once been. Back before Ellen and Bobby had gotten a hold of him. He’d been all elbows and knees and rage. Kid Nathan had not been good at hiding his emotions or controlling them. Adult Nathan was much better at the emotional shit but just as crap at hiding what he was feeling. Jackson racked his brain for any instance where that didn’t hold true.

Nathan was by far one of the most emotionally stable Savages. The man laughed easily, channeled his rage into healthy outlets, and voluntarily talked about the shit that bothered him. And then turned around and forced his brothers to do the same. Nathan cried every single time he watchedSteel Magnolias, and didn’t try to pretend like there was something in his eye when Holden made fun of him.

Which had to count for something when considering mental stability, right? So, his adopted brother was mentally sound.

Right?

Fuck, he didn’t know. He was so swamped with work from all fronts. It was a fucking miracle if he could discern his ass from his hat at any given point. Maybe everyone else was just as self-involved and just didn’t realize Nate was slipping.

“You okay there, Jackie-pooh?” Maddox’s question shook him out of his reverie and back to the present.

“What?” Jackson hadn’t meant to sound that snappy and pissed.

Or maybe Nathan just did what Nathan did best and found trouble. It was a well-known fact that Nathan was one big walking disaster attractor. If a stray bullet went off in a hundred-mile radius of the man, it would invariably defy all laws of gravity, reverse its trajectory, and hit him. If there was a dog within that same radius, it would go rabid, find him, and bite him.

Goddamned Nate and his goddamned inability to stay out of trouble.

“You’re all but foaming at the mouth.” Maddox kept his face forward and focused on the sky. “You’ve been growlin’ like a damn dog for last the thirty minutes.”

“I have not—it’s been five minutes tops. Where is he?” Every word he spoke came out as a growl, but that was normal now. He barely even flinched at the sound of it anymore.

“It’s not that big of a plane, Jackie-pooh.” Maddox didn’t bother to glance over at him, just kept piloting the plane like it was his job or something. “Just follow the sounds of Holden ripping him a new one for daring to take a vacation.”

The accompanying eye roll had Jackson feeling all kinds of indignant and defensive. Maddox well knew how much he, Jackson, had not wanted Nathan to leave the safety of the compound. And he also knew just how much Jackson had been against Nathan’s little jaunt to Russia in the first place.

And he’d been right, dammit!

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