Ellie rode at the back of the line with the rest of the mules carrying the equipment.Adam hadn’t tried to connect with her.There wouldn’t have been any point.It wasn’t as though they’d have any privacy for a chat with Dawson clinging to Adam like a burr on his shorts.
Normally, Adam would enjoy thinking of creative ways of getting rid of the man, but his hands were tied.He couldn’t afford to disabuse Dawson of his belief that Adam had ‘come to his senses’ and sided with the Order of Albion, or he’d send his plan straight to hell.
Not that it was much of a plan.
Adam knew he’d have his best chance of getting Vanika out if he waited until after nightfall, but he’d messed things up good when he’d outed the girl’s bluff the night before.When he had caught her eye briefly earlier that morning, she had treated him to a single glare before resolutely looking away.He needed to find a way to convince her that she could still trust him—without letting Jacobs know that Adam cared about her.
Fix things with the kid.Avoid Jacobs.Play nice with Dawson.Keep from rousing Borthwick’s suspicions.
And hope the damned Brahmastra was far enough away to give him time to make his move.
Adam might’ve managed worse situations before… but notmuchworse.
“The climate here is truly terrible.”Dawson wiped his sweating face with his handkerchief.“I don’t know how the local people tolerate it.Perhaps they have different glands.”
Adam moderated his tone by sheer force of will.“Pretty sure we’ve all got the same glands.”
Jacobs glanced back at them from further up the line.His mouth stretched into a slightly gloating smile.
The man clearly meant to make Adam’s life as difficult as possible.Adam had to admire the Machiavellian skill in the way he’d found to do it.
“And I have broken out in a rash in four different places!”Dawson whined.
Adam could’ve escaped from Dawson—if he’d walked with Borthwick.Dawson was as wary of the colonel as a kicked dog.If Adam caught up to the spy chief, Dawson would finally leave him alone.
But to do it, Adam would have to slip into that other skin again—the one he’d worn back in San Francisco.The notion made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.His palms slicked with sweat as his pulse jacked up, and he fought the urge to either punch something or run away.
No—he wouldn’t go back to that again if he could possibly avoid it.Even if that meant putting up with Dawson.
Adam just hoped he could manage it without kicking the man down the mountain.
“So then I said—that’s what youmightthink… if you didn’t know the first thing about Phoenicians!”Dawson finished triumphantly.
Singh Rao’s deep, steady voice cut through Dawson’s rambling.“Mr.Bates.”
The subedar was equal to Adam in height, his features elegantly stern over his well-groomed beard.His shoulders were broad and fit under his khaki uniform.The blade on his belt wasn’t military issue.Adam guessed it was ceremonial in purpose, perhaps related to his Sikh faith.
“Apologies for interrupting.If I might speak with you for a moment?”Singh Rao’s request was smoothly courteous in a way that made it impossible to refuse.
Dawson opened his mouth to try anyway.
“Of course,” Adam offered quickly.He forced himself to give Dawson an apologetic look.“We can keep talking later.”
Adam tried not to let it sound like a prison sentence.
Singh Rao motioned for Adam to join him, and the two men used their longer pace to leave Dawson behind.
Adam could feel the professor’s annoyed glare on his back.
He felt an involuntary burst of gratitude toward the Sikh officer—not that he believed Singh Rao had done any of this for Adam’s benefit.
Singh Rao’s question was tactfully phrased.“You and the professor are… friends?”
“Something like that,” Adam muttered.“What’d you want to talk to me about?”
The subedar’s gaze was quietly assessing.“You wanted to intervene in the tent yesterday when the colonel threatened the girl.”
Adam’s pulse kicked up along with his sense of threat.He wondered if he had just walked into a trap.
