Page 31 of The Lazarus Protocol

She bent forward and tried to draw in long breaths to stave off the frantic sensation of panic she couldn’t control. Tears filled her eyes. She squeezed them shut and tried to force the feeling away, but that never worked. She had to ride the wave, and it had come again now that there was a prospect of getting out of here.

The first had been the sheer relief of being out of the house, the scent of charred flesh in her nostrils. Now someone was here to rescue her—if they didn’t get themselves killed in the trying. Almost there. Safety was so close she could practically taste it. But knowing that and believing it were two different things. She still had miles to go before she reached real safety. Now wasn’t the time for relief that brought a panic attack in its wake.

Outside someone thudded on the ground.

A gunshot.

Boots pounded the dirt and gravel toward her. She tucked herself against the wall, trying to push the mental images out. Now she could add these two heroes to the mix, and their gruesome deaths. Because of her. This is why I work alone.

It was also why she had found herself in over her head, with no way out except one.

She touched the necklace hanging around her neck. The one she’d refused to give up. I’m never alone.

“Time to—” He quit talking and grabbed her arms. “You good to go?”

Steph lifted her gaze but couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows of the barn. “I’m good.”

No one would believe that, but he snagged her hand and they raced to the back of the barn. The other guy slammed the door shut and barred it from the inside.

Her hero dragged her, far too fast, to the other end of the room. She couldn’t keep up without stumbling and had to brush hair out of her face so she could see. Pain lanced through her temple, and other places she didn’t want to think about.

He let go of her hand to push boards out, and she heard wood splinter. Light spilled in from outside. He looked down. “You don’t have shoes.”

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He tugged on her hand. “You first.”

So they could shoot her as soon as she crawled out? That would be a better fate than what had been planned before she interrupted their best-laid plan for a fantastic explosion. Nailed it. Nearly took out the whole house, but the message had been communicated loud and clear.

Thanks, but no thanks.

I’m out.

Steph scrambled on all fours for a couple of feet, then tried to get up. Her rescuer grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. “Up the hill.”

She didn’t mean to groan aloud.

He said, “Dan?”

The other guy got under her arm, and the two of them hauled her up between them. Sure, it hurt her shoulders and the bumping wasn’t great, but her feet were off the ground and they were making far faster progress than she’d have managed.

A gunshot cracked behind them, but Steph was the only one who flinched. “I lost my knife.”

“You don’t need it.” Not-Dan angled to the right, and they were between trees. He slowed a little and dislodged her arm from his shoulders with a shrug. “Get her to the truck.”

Dan scooped her up in his arms.

“This is ridiculous.”

He raced up the hill. “I’ll get you a mirror. It won’t seem so.”

“Good to know I look awful.” She tried to look over his shoulder, but it was impossible.

He didn’t sound winded, and he never broke a sweat. Behind them, gunshots sounded like a conversation. A question, followed by an answer.

“Does he need backup?”

Dan only snorted.