37
Peter
I give the formula to the girl as soon as we’re on the plane, and she feeds her baby sister, shooting frightened looks at us the entire time. She’s overdoing it a bit—the real Mrs. Esguerra wouldn’t let her fear show—but since my guys don’t know Nora and everything she’s been through, it works.
“How did you do it?” Yan asks quietly when the baby finally falls asleep and the girl has calmed down enough to look out the window instead of at the couch where I’m sitting with the twins. “How did you get Esguerra?”
“I shot him.” My reply is curt and matter-of-fact, but I’m not going to make up an elaborate story for this. “Blew his head off.”
“Did you get the proof?” Ilya asks, frowning. “Because Novak will need—”
“Here.” I pull out a phone that I also “stole” from a guard and show
