Page 70 of The Lazarus Protocol

“We need to approach with a little more stealth.”

Steph glanced at Adam. “Yeah, I know.”

“So you have a plan?”

She eased up to the bank on this side of the river. Not the promenade of the opposite side, over here was far more industrial. “I’m accustomed to coming up with one on my own, yes.” She slowed to a stop.

“Not exactly what I asked, but fair enough.” Adam jumped from the boat.

Steph thought she heard someone chuckling over the comms channel in her earbud. She stuffed it in her pocket, shut off the boat, and followed Adam, clasping his hand when he offered it to her to aid her off the boat. When she let go of his hand and drew his gun from the back of her waistband, she realized he hadn’t moved. “We should go.”

He nodded, then turned away. Leaving whatever he’d been thinking unsaid, and the space between them full of too many secrets.

After his reaction to that postcard, she knew he was hiding something. Probably as many things as her.

Steph had to admit the guy was intriguing. She wouldn’t mind getting to know him, hearing his story. Sitting on lawn chairs at the castle with a cold drink, talking the day away. But the dreamlike quality of that idea told her everything she needed to know. It needed to stay an idea when there was far too much for her to focus on—like rectifying the situation with her father.

Which meant finding that book.

Two men approached from the far side of the boat, coming around the corner of a warehouse with a lot of smashed windows. Dan, who’d come to Switzerland with them, and the other guy who’d shown up in Syria, Jay. Both had wide, thick shoulders, where Adam was leaner and a couple of inches taller.

All of them were the kind of warriors who lived with shadows in their eyes and yet still maintained the ability to set that aside and work as a team. Their respect for one another was obvious, as was the natural way they let Adam set the tone—and make the final call.

Jay handed Steph a vest, which she lowered over her head at the same time as Adam, who put on the one Dan gave him. “Extra magazines.”

Steph said, “Thanks.”

“Let’s go.” Adam took the lead, and they jogged up the gangway to the ship, yet another reason why she didn’t think this thing was deserted. Just the deck at least, and the pilot house that looked down on them from the central tower.

The boat seemed bigger from here. And a little too quiet.

Adam found a door on the back side of the central tower and kicked it open. His boots pounded each stairstep on his descent. Steph turned, taking the steep set of stairs facing the rungs so she could move fast and watch his back on the way down.

Through the rungs she spied a long corridor with multiple doors on either side. “It’s going to take forever to clear this whole place.” She hopped off the bottom stair and turned to Adam, who had waited for her to catch up.

He headed down the hall. Gun up in front of him, shoulders squared. He moved in a way that told her he’d been doing this for so long it had become natural. Operating for him was like putting on a second skin. He probably struggled with shrugging it off. Someone like Kai, with his more relaxed demeanor, likely helped them all cut loose a little and blow off steam.

In a sense, she would never be part of a group like this. Not without changing what they were into something new. For the sake of giving up her independence? Steph wasn’t sure she was prepared for that kind of an exchange, even if she wouldn’t mind living in a castle and working with a team.

“On your left.” Jay eased up beside her in the narrow hall and took the left fork into another corridor that bisected this one.

To her right, a man crossed the end down that way. Steph instantly recognized him and took off running. The guys called after her, but they had a job to do and so did she—and despite Kai’s crack about “Mom and Dad,” none of them needed to get used to her being part of their unit.

The door had been left ajar.

Steph went in, gun first. “Sebastian.”

When she entered, he sat at a desk, a frown creasing his brow. The guy had to weigh thirty pounds less than the last time she’d seen him, and he’d grown a beard. The clothes he wore, a pair of jeans and a gray cotton shirt, seemed grimy.

He looked over at her through bloodshot eyes. “Stephanie.”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Steph shook her head. “You were thrown out of a van in Germany.”

“That was just a decoy.” He shook his head, easing back in his chair as if trying to escape but unable to make much progress in his aim. “You shouldn’t have come.”

She crossed the sparsely furnished room, probably reserved as the captain’s quarters when the ship was in service. Now the shelves were broken, books had tumbled into a heap at the bottom of the bookcase, and the seams of the couch were coming apart. Apparently, someone had destroyed the coffee table’s glass top but had cleaned up, leaving only the frame.

Steph went to the desk and crouched by the corner so she could see his face. He looked at the gun in her hand and winced. She spotted a web of scars on his neck, above the shirt collar. “Sebastian, let’s get out of here.”