Chapter 16
16
CADEN
C aden came to with a jolt of adrenaline spiking in her blood. A jolt she barely kept under control. Alarm was marching up and down her spine and making her feel all kinds of cautious. Like maybe she shouldn’t open her eyes and alert anyone to her newfound consciousness.
The only thing that came to mind in the first few seconds of awareness was Nathan Savage and the fact that he was no longer beside her. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know he was gone. The last few seconds of memory on him was almost comforting. Shot in the leg and shoulder: not fatal. But that had been before she’d passed out.
Now, she didn’t know what the fuck was going on or where the fuck he was. Those breathing sounds filtering in through the roar in her ears were not Nathan’s. Judging from the sounds and smells of the place around her, they were not in that same tiny house she’d passed out in.
Captured a-fucking-gain.
Didn’t Kyott have anything better to do? What was the payoff for him? Aside from her getting dead. But didn’t he already pretty much say he didn’t give a shit that his son was dead? He’d offered her a job, for fuck’s sake.
Or maybe she was in a hospital, judging by the almost sterile aroma and the annoyingly consistent beeping.
The second thought to rip through her mind was that she was still alive. She was still alive, and that was... okay.
Good even.
Maybe improperly trained henchmen and their combined inability to kill her wasn’t the nightmare it had been before. Maybe the feeling in her gut wasn’t entirely displeased with still being able to draw breath.
She’d deal with that bag of cats later. Caden focused her mind and tried not to feel the sharp, burning pains coming in waves from just about everywhere on her body. The blood roaring in her ears quieted, and the merc made a concentrated effort on pushing the pain to the back of her mind. She could complain about it later. She had to focus.
Eyes shut but not squinched, her movements still but not stiff, and breathing deep and even, Caden blindly took in her surroundings.
Freshly cut grass. Surprisingly pleasant. Weird.
Baking bread. New form of torture? Working.
Sweat and old blood. Hers? Most likely.
Cloth on cloth shifting. Other inmates? Guards?
Metal plinking. Cuffs? Didn’t sound like the right kind of metal though.
A dog barking. Attack dog. Not fun.
Soft humming. Not in her vicinity and therefore not a worry at that particular moment.
Pages turning every couple of minutes. Bored henchman reading? Huh.
Bodies shifting. Two? Three?
No Nathan.
There were no Nathan sounds or smells. His deep, even breaths were gonna be forever burned in her memory. The smell of him, although not entirely pleasant, being mostly sweat and blood, she’d grown accustomed to—even felt comforted by. He was not drooling on her, or squashed all up against her like some kind of human blanket. He wasn’t there.
No Nathan.
Caden only just kept her lips from twitching down at the thought. A swell of something angry and dark was gathering in her gut.
Optimistically, he’d gotten away.
Realistically, they hunted his ass down and shot him where he stood.
Or maybe... maybe they’d hunted him down and just imprisoned him again, which meant he could be rescued.
Unlikely. But a girl could dream.
Guilt and grief swamped her.
No. She didn’t know anything for sure. Assuming making asses of all parties and all that, wasn’t that an ancient proverb or some shit? Caden shut it all down. She put thoughts of the most likely dead Nathan in the deepest corner of her mind; yet another thing to push aside until a later date, until she could safely sob all over the place without any witnesses.
Finding out if Nathan Savage was alive and kicking was the plan here. Escaping and somehow getting the upper hand was vital to that plan.
She had to focus.
Soft and firm mattress under her back. How thoughtful.
Bare feet. Cold toes. Her new boots were gone.
No belt.
Loose sweatpants and an equally baggy shirt. Someone had changed her clothes, which was equal parts alarming and annoying.
There were, however, no cuffs on her wrists or rope or zip ties. It was almost disconcerting. Idiots.
IV in her right arm.
Well, all right then, she could work with that. Caden felt a small surge of cruel satisfaction at the feel of it. They’d given her a weapon.
Ailments: A few broken ribs. Possibly a few fractured. Painful, but nothing she couldn’t fight through.
Lashed up back. Annoying was all that was.
Left arm was broken and useless. Dammit.
Three fingers on her right hand were out of commission. Gripping would be painful.
Bruising, lots of bruising.
Neck felt okay.
Head trauma? None. How nice of them.
Broken toe, maybe two. She’d kicked that asshole too hard with improperly fitted boots.
Overall maneuverability: thirty to forty percent. Agility was equally as shitty but still not undoable.
Blocking was gonna be a bitch. Making any kind of physical contact was gonna be painful as fuck. On top of the fact that she’d be doing it all one-handed. What fun.
Caden took a moment to find her resolve and fan the inferno in her gut. Nathan—that was her objective. Find Nathan and/or extract information on his whereabouts. Kill the bastards who gunned him down. Find the shit-fuck who ordered it and murder.
And the escaping too. Escaping was essential to the last part of the plan.
The woman made sure to keep her fluttering eyelids slow and drugged-like when she blinked open her eyes for the first time.
Bright. Too fucking bright.
Two figures. One seated, three feet from the bed. One standing, no, hovering over her.
Another blink revealed an open window, maybe seven feet from the bed, and alerted the hovering figure of her wakefulness. He made a surprised sound in his throat, leaned over to look into her face, and Caden took her opportunity.
Steeling herself against the inevitable onslaught of pain from her injuries, she gripped the tube pushing saline into her veins, ripped it out of her wrist, and palmed the needle. One breath later, she vaulted off the mattress, shoved the side of her hand into the hovering figures throat, slung her working arm around his shoulders, kicked out his knee to throw off his balance, and jabbed the needle into his neck. Or close enough that he’d be all soft and willing to please.
Dizzy.
Adrenaline was beating out exhaustion, but only just.
Pain. Lots of fucking pain.
Three, maybe five minutes until she’d collapse.
“Shhh,” Caden didn’t recognize her own voice. It was all gravelly and groggy. “Be calm,” she warned in Russian. She put pressure on the needle to get him to stop hacking and sputtering like he was drowning.
The one in the chair had startled into a standing position. He was big and beefy. The left side of his face and neck was all scarred like he’d gone a couple of rounds with a blender on puree. Jeans, shirt, weapons. One gun that she could see and maybe a couple of knives somewhere on him. His hands were up in more of a placating gesture than in a show of surrender.
“Don’t come near!” Caden had threatened the same thing a couple of times in a few different languages before, so she didn’t have to think hard to find the right words. “Move away or I’ll hurt him!”
Another figure was perched on a chair on the other side of the room. He was quiet and watching her with guarded, calculating eyes.
Fuck.
She’d heard three bodies. Why hadn’t she thought to look? The mercenary adjusted her hostage, so he was between her and the seated one and her back was at the wall.
“There ain’t no need for that, ma’am.” English. Southern. His accent was thick and his eyes showed surprise but not panic. “We aren’t?—”
“Stay back! Keep your ass where it is and I won’t kill him.” English, being her native tongue, was much easier to threaten with. “Toss your weapons. Both of you.”
“Look, ma’am?—”
“Listen, Harvey Dent, shut the fuck up and put down your weapons or I’ll make a new breathing hole in your friend’s neck. Comprenday?” A wave of dizziness curled her stomach. Sweat started beading on her skin.
He complied, though for a second he looked like he wanted to rush her. Two knives and a gun were silently kicked towards her and he righted himself. Lips pursed, he straightened with his hands still up. The one in the chair did the same, though he only had a handgun.
“Nathan, where is he?” The only possible exit was the window. She couldn’t get by Scarface without him attacking her to get to the door.
“If you’ll just let Reid go—” The big scarred one was still talking and the one in her hold had stopped sputtering.
“Do you have him? Did you kill him? Tell me where he is and just who the fuck you are, and I’ll let him keep his neck as it is.”
“My name is Jackson Savage.” He jerked his head towards the quiet one on the other side of the room. “That there is Holden Savage.” With a small gesture, he motioned to the one in her choke hold and grimaced. “And Reid... Savage . See the pattern here, Xena?”
“Savage?” Her hold loosened automatically at the name.
No.
No fucking way was that true.
Nathan had said he’d had brothers, and that they were soldiers. They’d magically tracked his ass down? Then found them again in the tiny house? And what? Whisked them off into the sunset? But there was no fucking way that anyone, not even Nathan Savage, was that lucky. No fucking way.
Caden had been through mind games before and came out the other end mostly unscathed. Just because he knew Nathan’s surname didn’t mean shit.
“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted and tucked his head in, effectively angling the damaged side of his face away from her, like it had something to do with why she was freaking out.
What had he said about Jackson? She couldn’t remember. All the names he’d spouted had blurred in her mind. Another bout of nausea had her stomach knotting and more sweat leaking out her pores. How could she test them?
“What’s Nathan scared of?” She remembered the things he’d admitted about himself.
“Anything with more than four legs, the man’s a pansy. Can’t even squash a fuckin’ bug without screaming his fool head off,” the quiet one decided to chime in from all the way across the room. “His middle name is Albert. His favorite color is yellow. His eye color is blue. He weighs like, what, two hundred and something? He cries like a baby whenever he watches The Lion King . Want his social security number?”
They were both stone-faced and scowl-y and somehow those scowls were familiar. Caden could feel herself relenting. Indecision had her tightening her hold on Reid, who didn’t make a sound.
Reid was the one with a squirrel and the PHD in doctoring, fuck, what was it called? Medical science... practice? Who fucking knew. She’d liked the stories Nathan had told her about him.
After a long moment of hesitation, Caden forced herself to let go of the only leverage she currently had and released him from her choke hold. She kept the needle in an upright and ready position. Reid righted himself, rubbed his neck, and took a step back towards her.
“Back off,” Caden snarled and shoved the needle in his direction.
“You’ve got to sit down at least.” His hands went up at her growl, and he took a step back. “I’ve got to reattach the IV and get some meds in your system. I didn’t know what you were allergic to and Nathan didn’t either?—”
“Nathan...” Her arm was trembling now and her knees were quaking, but she was only a foot from the window. She couldn’t make her voice cooperate. She didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know that she’d failed yet another person she was responsible for. Didn’t want to know that he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Dead, the blue-white kind of dead that he couldn’t come back from. “Is... is he... where is he?”
They all started talking at once. Well, Reid had never stopped; he’d just gotten louder and more indignant. Caden could feel exhaustion setting in. Adrenaline was wearing off.
“Goddamn soldiers, you are not invincible, you need time to heal.” Reid just kept on ranting and eyeing her like she was going to kill over at any moment. “Sit down! Pick up the weapons if it makes you feel better. But please just sit down. You need stitches and we need to put that arm in a cast.”
“Oh yeah, Reid—that’s a good idea. Tell her to pick up a gun and shoot us all.” The one Scarface had said was named Holden was scoffing and moving forward at the same time, like she wouldn’t notice his giant ass getting closer.
“He’s alive. He’s in the other guest room.” Jackson’s voice was rough and gravelly and hit her like a fist in the gut.
“You’re aggravating your busted ribs. I have to get some antibiotics in you. Please, just sit down.”
“All right, shut up!” Caden raised her voice and jerked the needle in Holden’s direction. “Take another step, Gigantor, and you’ll fucking lose an eye.”
He stopped in his tracks, hands up in surrender, and shot her a smile. “Can’t blame me for tryin’.”
“Where is he?” She steeled her voice and dug her nails into her palms until she could speak without her voice breaking and began again. “He’s alive?”
“Jackson...” Holden spoke up again. He jerked his chin towards her, which obviously meant something to the other one.
“I see her. There ain’t no need to go plunging out the window, ma’am.” His tone was all kinds of annoyed. As if he hated the fact that he was telling her not to jump out the window. “We didn’t go through all the trouble of keeping ya alive just to hurt ya. You are safe here.”
“Where’s here?” Caden halted her progress to the window and cursed herself for being so obvious.
“Reid, go and wake him up.” He jerked his chin towards the blond who’d taken a seat on the bed, rubbing his neck.
“No, stay where you are,” Caden growled at him and then turned her irritation back on Jackson. “Take me to him.”
“You shouldn’t be walking around in your condition. You should be sitting down and telling me what you’re allergic to so I can start fixing you!” More indignant and loud now, Reid stomped his foot and motioned to the bed rather violently.
“All of you. Over by the door. Now.” There was no reason they should listen to her. She no longer had any kind of leverage. They could rush her and get the needle out of her hand in less than thirty seconds, but they obeyed.
As soon as she was sure they were all out of lunging range, she stooped, keeping her eyes on the men, gripped the first weapon that hit her palm, and stood upright again.
It was one of Jackson’s knives. Ugh.
She didn’t want to do close-quarters combat again. Caden tucked the thing into the waistband of her sweats and stooped one more time. This time, she palmed a handgun.
“You don’t need a weapon,” Jackson growled, still angling the damaged side of his face away.
“Lead the way.” Caden motioned for them to exit first and all but hobbled out behind them.
They were in a house. There was carpet under her bare feet; there were even vacuum cleaner tracks. Pictures on the walls like some kind of sitcom family. Which meant the baking bread she’d smelled earlier was real. Oh god, maybe they would let her eat some. The thought made her mouth water and her eyes go blurry with tears.
They stopped at the door on the left side and waited till she caught up.
“Inside.” She had to swallow the excess saliva in her mouth before she could properly speak.
They obeyed again, all scowling, though for different reasons. Reid seemed to have no self-preservation instincts. His only concern was for her. Holden didn’t like that she had a weapon and was telling him what to do. And it seemed Jackson was pissed that she hadn’t jumped out the window.
The room was small and cozy but still had that sterile, hospital-clean smell. Closet on the right wall, two man-sized windows on the furthest wall, and a big bed pushed against the left wall.
And there he was. Bare chest heaving up and down. His eyes were open, a bit glazed, like he was drugged, and blinking up at her with that big stupid grin.
Shirtless and smiling and alive.
Wow, she really liked that combination.
“Caden!” he slurred and wobbled to his feet but kept on smiling. “You look so pretty!”
Caden watched through blurry eyes as he came right towards her. Delirious giggles bubbled out of her throat and echoed around the room. He was so ridiculous. He was alive. He was smiling at her.
“No, no Nathan, don’t get up.” Reid’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her, but she couldn’t give two shits about them now. “Just because you can’t feel the pain right now doesn’t mean that you’re not doing damage to your leg. Dammit, Nathan! Listen to me. I’m a doctor! Don’t just yank out your IV!”
The relief at seeing him alive and kicking made her go boneless and weak-kneed. But that was okay because Nathan and his furnace of a body had caught her before she face-planted and was all but dragging her back towards the bed he’d just vacated.
“Don’t lift her! Your shoulder is not magically going to re-stitch itself! Don’t do the thing that I am specifically telling you not to do!”
“These your brothers, Nathan?” Caden didn’t know what she was saying. She was too caught up in the fact that Nathan was alive and squashing her to his body like she was a missing limb.
“Yeah... Jackson,” he slurred and blinked slowly, like a big cat. “Jackson, put it in my ass.”
“What?” That got her attention. “He did what?”
Caden wiped the treacherous tears off her cheeks and looked over Nathan’s shoulder towards his brothers. More had appeared now, and most of them were guffawing and outright laughing. She recognized one as the ass-hat she’d had to dislocate her arm for. Jackson was scowling.
“Tracker.” Nathan put his face in her hair. “He put a tracker in my butt cheek. Don’t cry, Caden... you’re safe now.”
Caden couldn’t concentrate enough to follow that statement. They finally reached the bed and Nathan toppled them onto it. Earning an outraged shriek from Reid.
“Are. You. Hearing. The. Words. That. I. Am. Speaking?! Stop stressing your wounds, you idiots! I refuse to re-stitch anything! You can both just suffer!”
Caden could hardly breathe with Nathan’s weight on top of her. But she didn’t care. His heat was soaking into her. His heartbeat was thumping against her palm. He was alive. They were alive.
“You’re safe.” It was a slurred chant he kept whispering into her hair. “You’re safe.” Nathan’s muscles relaxed on top of her and almost immediately his breathing evened out.
Caden relaxed her tense muscles and allowed herself to melt into Nathan and the soft mattress under her. She could sleep. Sure, there was a shit-ton of things that needed doing, escape routes that had to be planned, and six brothers she didn’t know if she could trust.
Trust.
Fuck. She was thinking of the word trust, like it meant something to her. Sure, it applied to Nathan, but that was different.
Caden couldn’t believe how casually she was considering trusting them just because they were Nathan’s brothers. What the fuck was wrong with her?
She’d deal with that later, though. She didn’t have the energy enough to care either way. Besides, she was armed now. Should they prove untrustworthy, she would be able to defend herself. The adrenaline she was running on was depleted. Exhaustion and bone-deep relief had her now, and she allowed herself to be pulled under.
“Wait.” An annoying tap on her cheek. “Wait, don’t pass out yet.” Reid. Caden grunted and opened her eyes. If she could’ve punched him, she would have, but her arms were trapped under Nathan’s body. “Are you allergic to anything? Is there anything I should know before administering drugs?”
“No. Go away.” Caden tried for a menacing growl, but she was too tired. She was out before she was even halfway to making her face do the thing that scared people.