Page 51 of The Lazarus Protocol

“You guys have a castle.”

The one they’d left her with in the truck in Syria, who told her his name was Ice, tossed a crate onto the back of a Polaris UTV. He grabbed the rung with one hand and swung onto the seat. “Home sweet home.”

The vehicle pulled out, all four of the guys inside—including the injured one.

The team leader, Nix, came down the plane steps behind her.

She spun to him. “Wait. There was another guy before. In Syria.”

“Jay. He made his own way home from Turkey.” Nix stood at the bottom of the airplane steps, arms folded across his chest.

“He doesn’t live here?”

“Are you going to quit deflecting with questions and talk to me about what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t need to, either. You shouldn’t have brought me here. You should’ve dropped me off somewhere else.”

He stared at her, his face impassive behind a pair of Aviators. “I don’t do well being told what to do.”

“Is that why I’m still alive?” And here, instead of being cut loose at the first sign of trouble. Wherever here was. “You know what, who cares? I’m leaving.”

She set off toward the far end of the runway where a rundown hangar stood, looking like some relic from decades past. The rocks on the ground dug into her feet, and pretty soon she was limping in dirty tube socks. But walking always helped her think.

Nothing about any of this made sense. Not these guys, or the contact she’d had with the CIA since she ran into these guys. The one corollary? These guys.

She turned back and found Nix was far closer to her than she thought. Her foot landed on a sharp pebble that hit an abrasion on the sole of her foot, and she hissed out a breath.

He grasped her elbow. “Easy.”

She shook him off. “Why are you following me?”

“You won’t get far in those socks.”

As if that was an answer to her question. “I doubt any of the guys have shoes in my size. And since you were ordered to kill me, why would I stick around looking for help?”

“The best offer I can give you is to fake your death.”

“No deal.” She shook her head. “I can’t lose my job.”

“Seemed like it was pretty final on the phone. What did they say?”

She glanced at the trees, ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes. “I’ve been burned.”

“Meaning you can’t get your job back? I thought that kind of thing was a done deal.”

She shook her head. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Being part of the CIA means that much to you?”

“Why are you even interested? You don’t owe me, and I don’t owe you. Thanks for ruining my life. Goodbye.” But she didn’t move. A breeze brushed over the tree line, and she might’ve heard the howl of an animal. Nope. “Can your pilot take me somewhere?”

“Not until he does repairs on the plane.”

“Look, Nix…” She rounded on him.

“It’s Adam.”

She frowned. “Adam?”