Page 39 of Savage Escape

It was almost pitiful the way they jointly hobbled together out the door. If he’d had the energy, he’d have laughed outright. He was limping along, trying to manage the broom under his good arm and trying not to jostle his other arm. Caden, bleeding and bruised, was laden down with weapons. She was favoring her right side, limping, and one arm hung limp and useless whilst she kept her handgun up and at the ready.

There was nothing but wide open spaces all around him. The grass was green but sparse. There were more dirt patches than anything. An old dilapidated tractor sat on the far end of the field. A few old rusted-out vehicles were scattered across the lawn. The house itself was tiny. The brown paint was peeling, but it looked as if it had been kept up. By the time they reached the front door, they were both out of breath and sweating.

“The bed’s all the way down the hall, first door on the right.” She grunted when they’d struggled through the door and into the living room. There was a layer of dust and a level of coldness that told him the owners hadn’t been home in a while. Nathan could only manage to grunt in response and move to do as she instructed, automatically absorbing his surroundings.

The room was small and packed with all manner of random things. Knick-knacks mostly, books, and clothes. It was organized and tidy, but still compact. The bed was big enough for the both of them.

Caden grunted something, placed most of her weapons on the bedside table, and then turned on her heel and went back out the door.

Nathan took that moment to carefully chuck his shot and battered body on the bed. It was soft and there were blankets. And goddamn pillows. How long had it actually been since he’d slept on a bed? How long had they been imprisoned? It felt like ages. Nathan shifted into the bed, trying to melt into themattress, and all but moaned at the sheer pleasure of having something with a bit of bounce and cushion under his ass.

“Here.” She was back with two cups anchored to her body with her right arm, the left one still hung loosely at her side. Nathan took the cups and watched as she sunk onto the bed beside him.

“There any more Skittles?” She glanced over at him after a few minutes of joint heavy breathing. Her voice was low and slow, like it was taking too much energy to form words.

“Yeah, here.” He shook out the rest in her trembling palm. Her knuckles were busted and blood was crusted into all the little lines of her palm. “We should see about those cuts.”

“Sleep first.” Grunting and struggling, she pushed her body up so her back was resting against the headboard.

They were both experiencing an adrenaline crash. Nathan could see the exhaustion in the lines of her face; her skin was gray and pinched in pain. His face most likely mirrored hers, but there was a warm kind of giddiness that was taking hold of his gut and breathing life back into his limbs. They were free. They were alive. They were mostly in one piece. And hell, she’d kissed him again.

But what they needed most was a nap. Some actual food would be nice, but he doubted he would be able to keep anything with actual substance down. And a bath, preferably together. Though Nathan doubted he could do anything more than just flail around. It was a nice thought.

She shifted uncomfortably and then, wonders of all wonders, a soft, he’d even go so far as to sayaffectionate, smirk pulled at her lips when her eyes locked on something at the end of the bed. Nathan followed her line of sight, trying to identify the thing that put that softness on her face.

“What are you smirking at?” The TV on the dresser? The stack of books propped beside it?

“I was... do you remember that one time in California? LA, I think it was.” There was more energy in her voice now. The sugar was kicking in.

“LA? I never chased you there.” Had he? Nathan racked his brain trying to pinpoint just what the hell she was talking about. He’d been to Los Angeles a total of three times and none of those times had he been chasing Quinn.

“No.” She grinned down at him. “I saw you in Chicago and thought you were tailing me, so I double-backed and followed you.”

“And then followed me all the way to LA?” Damn, how had he not seen her? Had he actually been horrible at his job? “I knew you had a thing for me.”

“I didn’t have a job lined up.” She shrugged all nonchalantly like tailing the guy who’d arrested her twice and would have done so again without hesitation was normal. “And even if I did have a teeny tiny little smidgen of a thing for you—it died a painful death when I saw you dance.”

“Dance?” He racked his brain for a party he’d attended in LA. None came to mind.

“I mean, I couldn’t hear the lyrics, but I could just tell what song it was by the dance you were doing.” Her voice was all kinds of amused like she was trying really hard not to laugh in his face.

And suddenly he knew exactly what she was talking about. “Oh my god.” Nathan could feel heat rise to his face. His ears burned with the sudden rush of blood. “Oh god.”

“All the single ladies, all the single ladies,” she sang, and Nathan blushed harder. “Are you always that into the music or was that?—”

“Okay, first of all, stalking me is unfair. And secondly, it was on the TV. And, you know what, women aren’t the only ones who can shake their asses. I rocked that song.”

He had seen it on TV. The beat was catchy as hell and it had looked like fun. He had been bored and waiting for the gala to open.

“Yeah, you did.” She laughed out loud, holding her ribs with her good arm. The husky, slightly pained sound shocked him out of his embarrassment. Hell, if she was going to laugh like she had a soul, he’d make a fool out of himself all the time. “The hip popping alone. God, I laughed for days every time that song came on the radio.”

After her laughter died down, Nathan felt his embarrassment return. How many other dances had she seen him do without his knowledge?

“Shut up, ya big stalker. At least I don’t stalk people.”

“Ah!” she snorted in disbelief and turned her indignant, dark eyes on him. “Yes, you do. You stalked me all the time.”

“That was my job! Occupational hazard. ‘Sides, the most embarrassing thing you’ve done while I watched was... hell, I don’t know—pick a wedgie.”