Page 47 of The Lazarus Protocol

Dan loaded medical supplies back into a couple of duffel bags, a seatbelt now snug around Ash’s waist.

“He has more color now.” Adam wandered by, holding on to the seat headrests as he picked his way down the aisle.

“He’ll be good.” Dan settled into a seat and belted himself in.

Kai cleared his throat. “What did the CIA say?”

Adam glanced at Kai, then at Steph. “You don’t want to know.”

She stared at the window, pretending she didn’t care.

Adam slid into a seat facing Ice, with the asset across the aisle to his right. “So who is she really?”

Kai fist-bumped him on the way past.

Ice buckled his seatbelt, fixated on the screen. “Found something interesting on a site I’m guessing whoever scrubbed her identity never discovered. An image from years ago. She looks about seven. I could surmise the reasons why the CIA might not have flagged it.” He turned the laptop around.

“Please don’t.” Adam studied the image of a girl in a Halloween costume, holding hands with a man in an army uniform. The patches and pins were just wrong enough to be fake, but they were off in ways that told Adam this guy knew where they really went.

Ice clocked Steph looking at them. By the time Adam glanced at her, she’d looked away again. Ice lifted one brow and turned the laptop back around. “I’m running—whoa.”

Adam looked at her, rather than ask Ice what he’d found. “Who is he?” Beneath them, the landing gear descended.

When she didn’t answer, he said, “Ice?”

“According to this, his name is Silas Ilman. He’s wanted by Interpol and the British government for questioning in matters of national security, which could be nothing or anything. He hasn’t been seen in decades if the age of this stuff is anything to go by. This photo taken might be the last time he was seen in public.”

“So he disappeared.”

“Around the time that photo was taken.”

Adam glanced at her. She flinched at that, just a miniscule movement he almost missed. The plane touched down, bouncing onto the ground before the pilots hit the brakes and they slowed to a nearstop.

Ice peered out the window. “They’re coming to meet us.”

Adam said, “Kai, Dan, deliver the drone.”

“Copy that.” Kai walked down the aisle with the drone on his shoulder, hauling it like a sack of fertilizer.

Dan stopped in front of Adam. “Ash will be fine until he wakes up.”

“We’ll be wheels-up again by then.”

Dan nodded and followed Kai to the door, ducking his huge frame to get out. Adam sat across from Steph, tugged the tape off her mouth, and leaned back. Then he flipped his phone over and over on his knee.

She worked her mouth around and winced, still keeping her attention on the window. “This is France, but we aren’t at an airport.”

“Do you really think I owe you an explanation about anything?” He let the phone tap his knee once more, then held it still. “You owe me. More than you know.”

The skin around her eyes flexed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think the CIA said when I told them you failed the mission?” Adam lifted one shoulder. “I informed them that you don’t have the drone and I’m still alive.”

“Killing you wasn’t part of the deal. Are you gonna hold that over my head forever?”

He nearly said yes. “Forever won’t be very long.”

That dark gold gaze of hers bored into him, and suddenly she seemed fragile. Something from his ancestors decided to wake up and give him advice about throwing her over his shoulder again and hiding her from their enemies while he went out and slayed everyone who wanted to hurt her.