She should have been surprised. Wasn’t. She searched for context.

Emilia had deplaned late, had seemed oblivious to their target’s existence, and whatever had put that look of death on her had happened before arrival, because the distress was already obvious from her first step into the terminal.

Kara shifted to stretch, looked up into Nick’s face, and yelped.

She hadn’t heard or seen him come in.

Had no idea how long he’d been watching her.

He raised his eyebrows and gave her that look, the one offering pity while also laughing at the way she lost sense of time or place.

Aaron and Juan trooped in, carrying a plastic locker.

She pulled the buds out of her ears.

Nick nudged the bed with his knee, said, “You get something?”

She glanced toward the door.

The pieces she’d found made lies out of what the war room had given them, but she didn’t have enough yet to know what truth might look like, and these weren’t things she could discuss in front of the others.

Nick motioned her up and out.

Kara shut the laptop and carried it toward the door. Behind her, Aaron made a kissy noise, just loud enough that she wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

But Nick had heard it, too. He stopped short, doubled back and, voice low, almost a whisper, said, “Do that again, you’ll be using those lips for teeth.”

Kara, one foot over the threshold, froze.

Juan, arm buried elbow deep in the locker, stopped moving.

Nick didn’t anger easily, and a quiet Nick was a terrifying Nick.

Aaron put both hands up, defensive, apologetic.

Nick turned without a word, and Kara followed him down the hallway, toward the stairwell, conflicted, concerned. Belittling behavior like Aaron’s was everywhere. She’d had a lifetime to grow inured to it. More here wouldn’t make much difference to her, but a rift between Nick and his men certainly would, and to a kid like Aaron, what had just happened wasn’t a superior quashing insubordination and disrespect so much as white knighting. That would make things worse.

Nick reached the stairwell. He said, “What’s the damage?”

It took a second to switch from no good options to no good way to put this.

Her mouth opened. Words were slow in coming.

She said, “Did you know Emilia was in Frankfurt this morning?”

Nick’s head tipped right. “Emilia Flynn, Emilia?” he said.

“Yeah. On our flight out of Dallas.”

“Emilia Flynn?”

“Yes, Nick. That Emilia. On our flight.”

If they were different people, Emilia might make for a touchy conversation, but things weren’t like that between them.

He said, “And you know she was on our flight because . . . ?”

“Because I saw her outside the terminal—stared right at her while she was getting into a taxi—and because she was in footage with deplaning passengers.”