Page 32 of The Lazarus Protocol

“We all need help sometimes. That’s what you’re supposed to say!” She slapped his shoulder.

“The guys are gonna like you.”

Steph frowned. He slowed, stepping over a fence that he sat her on for a second before he lifted her down.

“Good to walk the rest of the way?”

“Yes.” She set off, ignoring the slices of pain in the soles of her feet. Or the tears that still threatened to slide down her cheeks. “My therapist is going to have a field day with this one.”

Dan didn’t seem to think that was funny.

Another guy jumped out of a truck and gave her a bow, then waved to the truck. “Ma’am, your chariot awaits.”

Dan said, “Nix will drive. I’ll ride in the back with you.”

The guy who bowed held out his hand for her to take. She clasped it, and he said, “I’m Ice. Nice to meet you. That’s⁠—”

“Dan. I got that one.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And Nix? You all have three letter names?”

Ice shifted her hand so that it was around the inside of his elbow and led her to the passenger door. “The drive is long enough we can tell you the story.”

Steph pulled in a long breath that broke a couple of times. But she breathed free air and managed to exhale it back out. “I’d like that.”

She eased onto the seat, trying not to wince.

“Hospital?”

She eyed the injuries he had. “I’ll go if you do.”

His lips curled into a smile.

Nix yelled, “Ice!” as he hopped the fence.

“Just introducing myself.” Ice stepped back.

Nix jogged over. “Get in the back.” He slammed her door shut, and the two other men climbed in the back while he raced around the front end of the truck to get in the driver’s side.

Steph watched the fence until they pulled away.

No one followed.

She glanced at him then. “You took care of them?”

“Seems like you did that when you blew up the house.” He gripped the wheel, fingerless gloves on his hands. His tattoo flexed with the tension in his biceps. “But why stick around hiding? You’d have to figure more would show up to find out what happened.”

Steph smoothed her fingers to the knees of the too-big men’s jeans she had stolen. “I didn’t have time to formulate a route out before you came in.”

“You weren’t waiting for us?”

“I’d have been long gone if I had the chance.” If the panic attack hadn’t sent her to the barn to hide and kept her there a prisoner of her own nervous system. “So thanks for making it simple.”

She stared out the windshield but saw nothing.

Trees blurred past. Houses. People. His phone rang, and she closed her eyes, listening to the tone of his voice until she couldn’t make out the words.

Sometime later, she awoke.

The truck was parked on a switchback, tucked against the side of a cliff so close she couldn’t have opened her door. Night had descended, and a canopy of stars were visible overhead out the dirty windshield.