Team 52 Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 8

  The loud sound of a gunshot. A bullet whizzed past her and she swallowed a scream.

  She lowered herself, moving her feet to search for the balcony below. As she climbed lower, a hand grabbed around her wrist.

  “Dr. Schafer, we aren’t going to hurt you.”

  She looked up into a hard face. The man had heavy features and a jagged scar across one eyebrow.

  “We just have questions about the artifact,” he said.

  Ice slid into her veins. She saw in his flat, hazel eyes that he wasn’t telling her the truth. His eyes weren’t just cold and scary like Lachlan’s, they were completely soulless.

  They’d shot at her bed. To incapacitate, maybe, but they obviously didn’t care if they hurt her.

  And she knew they wouldn’t let her live.

  She wriggled in his hold.

  He cursed and lost his grip on her. Rowan fell and let out a little scream. She managed to grip the railing of the balcony below hers, her knees slamming against the wall. She ignored the burst of pain and kept climbing downward.

  She heard shouts and looked up. The scarred man was aiming his gun at her.

  Fuck. Rowan looked down at the gleaming roof just a few feet below her. She could see all the oblivious people enjoying the casino.

  She let go and dropped, fear not even letting a scream past her lips. Bullets pinged off the glass below her.

  Rowan hit the roof with a hard bang. She came up on all fours, gasping to catch her breath. Ignoring all the people far below, she crawled across the glass. It was slick under her hands and knees.

  She glanced back. The men were following her and climbing down the balconies.

  Shit. She looked forward. She needed a way off this roof. Now.

  A warm breeze ruffled her hair and she kept moving. She glanced down and saw that people at the gaming tables below had noticed her. They were pointing up at her with shocked faces.

  “Get her!” someone yelled behind her.

  She looked back. The men were on the glass now. They were closing in, and weren’t crawling. They had their hands out to keep their balance as they jogged across the glass.

  Pulse leaping, she kept moving. Then she reached the edge of the roof.

  Oh, no. Rowan looked over the edge. Below, lay a huge pool area, with a glittering, lagoon-style pool.

  There was nowhere to go.

  Bile rose in her throat. And the bad guys were closing in.

  Lachlan lifted his beer, sipping it as he sat on a stool at the bar at Griffin’s Sports Bar and Grill.

  Seth leaned forward, ordering a serving of hot wings, and sipping his own beer. Axel was on the other side of him. The rest of the team were there as well, everyone decompressing. Griffin’s was their local hangout when they were off duty. It wasn’t fancy, but they liked it, and the best thing…barely any tourists.

  But Lachlan still felt edgy. He had ever since he’d dropped Rowan at the Aurora Casino. She hadn’t looked back.

  He definitely wasn’t thinking about that kiss. Fuck. He took another huge sip of beer.

  “Rowan sure was something,” Axel drawled.

  Lachlan’s fingers tightened on the bottle. He looked at Axel, who was giving him a knowing grin. He glanced at Seth, who was staring at him with a raised brow.

  Blair leaned forward. “Saw you kissing her, Hunter.”

  “Me too.” Axel’s grin widened. “Steamed up my glasses.”

  “You don’t wear glasses,” Smith rumbled.

  “Saw the way you looked at her.” Blair’s bi-colored eyes speared into Lachlan’s. His best friend had always gotten straight to the point. “I hope you didn’t give her your ‘I’m married to my job’ speech.”

  Lachlan hunched his shoulders. “She’s gone, and I am married to my job.”

  Blair shook her head, clearly frustrated.

  Callie leaned back. “I liked her. Despite everything she went through, she held it together, no hysterics. Steady as a rock.”

  “She’s smart and independent,” Lachlan said. “Had to be. Her parents forgot she existed most of the time.”

  “Rough,” Seth murmured.

  Lachlan stared blindly at the row of television screens over the bar, showing various sporting events. But he didn’t see the games. Instead, he saw Rowan’s face, with her big blue eyes and russet hair.

  “I think mi amigo is realizing he was an idiot,” Axel mock-whispered to Blair.

  Blair grunted and bit into her burger.

  Then Lachlan’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out. It was Brooks.

  He pressed it to his ear. “Don’t you sleep, Brooks?”

  “Lachlan.”

  The man’s tone made him straighten. He set his beer down on the bar with a crack. “What?”

  “It’s on the police band. There’s an incident in progress at the Aurora Casino.”

  Fuck. Lachlan pushed to his feet and glanced at his team. They all stood.

  “Talk to me,” Lachlan ordered.

  “There are reports of a red-headed woman out on the glass roof of the casino in her pajamas. She’s being chased by three armed men.”

  “Fucking hell.” Lachlan saw his team stiffen. “We’re on our way.”

  He snatched his keys off the bar. “Rowan’s under attack at the Aurora Casino. Let’s move.”

  As he slammed out of the door, he didn’t have to ask if they were armed. His own SIG Sauer 226 was tucked in its holster.

  Outside, his team jogged toward the black Suburban parked out front. Lachlan made his way to his Kawasaki Ninja. A calm coolness washed over him and his focus sharpened. He jumped on his bike and started it, revving the engine. The bike vibrated beneath him.

  He roared out of the parking lot and onto the road. He left the SUV behind, zipping through the traffic. Soon, he turned onto South Las Vegas Boulevard, speeding toward the glass spire of the Aurora.

  Be safe, Rowan. Hold on.

  He dodged around several cars, and then spied the casino entrance. He turned, speeding across several lanes of traffic. He tore into the front entrance of the Aurora and pulled to a stop. Several police cruisers were screeching to a halt nearby.

  Lachlan leaped off his bike and strode toward the front door. He followed the commotion into the main casino area. A crowd was gathered, looking up at the glass roof above.

  He spotted her instantly. Rowan was kicking out at a man trying to grab her.

  Bastards.

  Lachlan sensed bodies closing in and saw his team had arrived.

  “Axel and Seth, with me. We’re going out on the roof.”

  Blair nodded. “Rest of us will be outside, and deal with crowd control.”

  Lachlan nodded and looked for the nearest stairwell. He shoved open the door and then pounded up the stairs, Seth and Axel right behind him. He felt a heaviness in his chest he couldn’t quite ease.

  He was going to make these assholes pay for scaring Rowan. And if she was hurt…

  “There,” Seth said.

  Lachlan shouldered out the door. There was a large terrace outside, with a bar and low seating areas clustered around. It looked out onto the glass roof just below. A crowd had gathered, leaning against the railing, staring at Rowan and her attackers struggling on the far side of the roof.

  As they watched, Rowan kicked out at a man. He lunged for her and she jerked back.

  Seth hissed.

  “Ay, Dios mío,” Axel bit out.

  Fuck, no. Lachlan watched in horror as Rowan slipped off the edge of the glass.

  She fell, managing to grab the edge with one hand, dangling off the side of the building.

  Fury burst through Lachlan—strong and raging. He pressed a hand to the rail and leaped over, pulling out his SIG at the same time.

  “Lachlan! Fuck,” Seth called out.

  Lachlan landed on the glass roof with a bend of his knees.

  “Hey!” Above, he saw several security guards rushing toward them.

  “I’ll t
ake care of them,” Seth said. “Go.”

  Axel leaped over the railing and landed beside Lachlan. He lifted his own Glock. Together, they jogged across the glass.

  Lachlan focused on the first attacker, his jaw tight. The man didn’t hear him coming.

  A swift kick sent the man tumbling. He hit the glass with a shout and started sliding. The other two men turned, lifting their weapons.

  But Lachlan and Axel were ready. They both fired.

  The gun flew out of the hand of one man. With a scream, he gripped his injured hand and fell to the glass.

  The final man had ducked, dropping to his knees. Lachlan kicked the gun out of his hand. The man tried to run, but Lachlan grabbed his shirt with his prosthetic hand. He lifted the man up, dangling him off the glass. His eyes widened, and Lachlan noticed he had a scar on his eyebrow.

  “What the fuck?” The man growled, kicking his feet.

  “Who sent you?”

  The man kept struggling. Lachlan shifted, holding the man over the side of the building.

  “Who do you work for?” Lachlan asked.

  The man’s face twisted, and he yanked something from his belt. Another gun.

  Lachlan let him go. The man screamed as he fell.

  “Lachlan.” Rowan’s voice was strained.

  He dropped to his knees. Her white face looked up at him. He reached for her, but she was just out of reach.

  “Hang on,” he said.

  He went flat on his belly, leaning over the edge to get to her.

  “I’m…slipping.” Panic flashed in her eyes.

  “Hold on, dammit.” His fingers brushed hers.

  But that’s when she lost her grip. Her fingers slipped and she fell.

  “Lachlan!” she screamed.

  Lachlan didn’t hesitate. He moved into a crouch and launched himself off the roof.

  He slammed into Rowan midair, wrapping his body around hers.

  “Lachlan.” Her arms and legs clamped onto him. The rush of the wind tore at them.

  “I’ve got you.”

  They hit the casino pool with a huge splash, the water closing over them.

  Chapter Eight

  Rowan came up sputtering. Lachlan wrapped an arm around her and yanked her to the edge of the pool.

  She looked up. Holy cow. Her stomach rolled. They’d fallen a long way, and if he hadn’t grabbed her, she’d likely have landed on concrete.

  If he hadn’t arrived, those men would have killed her.

  Lachlan climbed out of the pool, pulling her with him with a flex of his arms. Water streamed off them both.

  “Rowan?”

  She blinked up at him. Water clung to his eyelashes. The man had really long eyelashes.

  “Hey, stay with me.” He cupped her cheek. “You’re okay.”

  That’s when she realized she was probably a little shocky. “I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

  His fingers tightened on her. “Rowan—”

  Blair materialized, looking pissed. “You both all right?” The woman touched Rowan’s arm.

  “Hi, again.” Rowan pushed her water-soaked hair from her face.

  Blair gave her a faint smile, then looked at Lachlan. “Plan?”

  “We keep her safe. I want to know who these assholes are. Tomorrow, she’s coming back to base.”

  Rowan cleared her throat. “Don’t I get a—”

  Lachlan scowled down at her. “No.”

  She glared at him. “Excuse me, but I was the one getting shot at.”

  His face changed, his gold eyes glittering. She snapped her mouth closed, and almost took a step back. He looked three degrees beyond scary.

  “Here.” Callie appeared, holding some pool towels.

  Lachlan grabbed one and wrapped it around Rowan. That’s when she became aware that her drenched pajama tank was clinging to everything. She clutched the towel tighter.

  “Whatever I have to do to keep you safe, I’ll do it,” he said, tone firm.

  Rowan’s heart clenched. No one had ever said those words to her before.

  Callie took another towel and covered the dead man on the concrete. “Police are coming. Let’s move.”

  Rowan quickly looked away and Lachlan nudged her forward. They moved through the curious crowd, flanked by Blair and Callie. They skirted around the edge of the main casino and came out the front entrance. A second later, a black SUV pulled up at the curb. The door opened, and Rowan spotted Smith behind the wheel.

  Axel and Seth materialized out of nowhere.

  Rowan took one step toward the SUV, but Lachlan stopped her.

  “Rowan’s with me tonight. I’ll get Brooks working on figuring out who did this, and report to the director. Blair, can you get her stuff?”

  “Sure,” Blair replied. “What about the cops?”

  “Call MacKade.”

  Blair’s face didn’t change, but Rowan felt something shift in the woman’s demeanor. Behind her, Axel pressed his tongue to his teeth and studied his boots.

  “Who’s MacKade?” Rowan asked.

  Blair’s nose wrinkled. “An arrogant asshole.”

  Lachlan made a sound. “A detective at the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police and our contact. Call him.”

  “Fuck. Fine.” Blair stomped off, her blonde ponytail swinging.

  Rowan had questions, but right now, her energy was flagging. She wanted to curl up and block out the world for a bit. “I need some chocolate.”

  Axel grinned at her, and then Lachlan was pulling her away from the SUV. She frowned. Where were they going?

  Lachlan stopped in front of a motorcycle. A sleek, modern-looking beast of a thing. He took the towel off her and tossed it over a low brick wall. Then he swung a long leg over and grabbed a helmet from the handlebars.

  “I’m not getting on that,” she said.

  Damn, he looked so good on it—tough and sexy.

  “Yes, you are.” He looked at her, his eyes glittering again. “Someone tried to kill you tonight. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to end up dead, and I’m going to keep you alive. Now, get on the bike.”

  She huffed out a breath. The man had dived off the building for her. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle like this before.”

  His face softened the tiniest fraction. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Rowan was starting to believe that. She gingerly climbed on behind him and he settled the helmet on her head. She tried not to focus on the fact that she was braless, in tiny pajama shorts, and no shoes.

  A moment later, the bike’s engine vibrated to life beneath her.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  Rowan felt a strange thrill and wrapped her arms around him. She’d been on a motorbike before, but it had been a rattling death trap that they’d used on a jungle research trip in Central America.

  This bike was nothing like that.

  He took off, the bike zooming forward. She tightened her hold, pressing into him until she was plastered against his muscled back.

  It didn’t take long for the warm wind to dry her wet clothes. They zipped through traffic, and a new energy filled her. This rocked. There was nothing but Lachlan and the wind on her skin.

  He weaved in and out of cars, and soon they entered a more residential area not far from the Strip. It wasn’t fancy, but not rundown, either.

  He slowed down in front of a nice condo building, and a second later they drove into an underground parking lot. He parked the bike, and reached back and took her helmet.

  His gaze locked on her. “You okay?”

  She blinked. “I think so. Uh, I’d love another ride sometime.”

  The faintest smile touched his mouth before he took her hand and helped her off. He led her toward the elevator. Before she knew it, he was leading her down a carpeted hallway and into his condo.

  As he flicked lights on and tapped a code on a fancy security system, Rowan looked around with interest. The place screamed “man lives here.” He had dark-stained wooden floors. A huge,
black-leather sofa faced an enormous television. Off to one side was a galley kitchen with granite counters and shiny appliances, and a cool wall covered in shiny silver metal. The appliances didn’t look like they got much use. Lachlan didn’t strike her as the cooking type. Cart a rifle around, no problem, but probably not a spatula.

  He grabbed her hand again, and this time, tugged her down the hall and into a bedroom.

  Rowan sucked in a breath. The bed was huge and covered in a forest-green cover. Lachlan moved to a chest of drawers, opening one. He turned and handed her a T-shirt.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “We will.” He touched a strand of her still-damp hair. “After you shower and change. You’ve had a rough night, on top of a rough few days.”

  He turned her and nudged her toward the adjoining bathroom. Then he stalked out.

  He was still looking out for her. Her fingers brushed the soft fabric of the T-shirt. She’d almost been killed—more than once, in fact—and her parents hadn’t even returned her calls. But Lachlan had come to her and jumped off a building for her.

  In the bathroom, Rowan looked in the mirror. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her partly dried hair was a tangled mess. She flicked on the shower inside the big glass enclosure. When she stepped under the hot water she stifled a moan. It felt like heaven.

  Lachlan only had a simple bottle of multi-purpose shower gel. It would have to do. After she’d washed her hair and rinsed herself, she toweled off and grabbed her discarded pajamas and panties. She rinsed off the chlorine smell and threw them over a railing to dry.

  Then she pulled on Lachlan’s T-shirt. It was huge and dwarfed her. At least it fell low enough that it covered up the fact she had no panties to wear. The shirt had the Marines emblem on the front—the eagle, globe, and anchor. She fingered the soft material again, trying not to imagine it resting against Lachlan’s hard chest.

  When she headed out into the living room, she found him leaning against the countertop, drinking coffee. He obviously had a second bathroom, as he’d showered and changed as well. His jeans were a step beyond worn and white at the seams. His black T-shirt clung to tight muscles, the sleeves cutting into his biceps.