Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(11)

“Yeah, they are. I’m sorry.”

She swiveled to look at him again and those blue eyes hit him. “They’re dead, and it’s all my fault.”





Chapter Four





Rowan sat on a chair in the rec room, wrapped in a blanket.

Someone had finally shut off the door to the damaged dome, and the air was starting to warm up inside. She finally felt like she was thawing out. Unfortunately, as her body lost its numbness, so did her head.

She couldn’t believe what had happened. Emily, Isabel, Samuel…

Rowan cleared her throat. “I need coffee. Really strong coffee.”

She glanced around at the white-suited team, all holding futuristic-looking rifles slung over their shoulders. None of them were smiling, and they all looked like they had badassness running through their veins. She sighed. She wasn’t sure badassness was a word.

“Here.”

She looked up and saw that her rescuer had brought her a steaming-hot mug of coffee. It wasn’t topped with chocolate, but it would do.

Rowan wrapped both hands around the mug and took a sip. It was heavy on the sugar, and to her caffeine-starved system, it was heavenly. Her gaze moved back to Lachlan’s face as he sat across from her. Okay, this man might be easy on the eyes, but he didn’t just have badass running through his veins, she was pretty sure it permeated his cells.

Luckily, Rowan didn’t scare easily. He was handsome, in a rugged way, with dark scruff on his cheeks and jaw. From what she could tell, under the bulky, cold-weather gear, he was big and muscled. She looked at the other soldiers lining the rec room. They were all big and tough, except for the two females. They just looked tough.

“Dr. Schafer?”

Her gaze came back to the man in front of her. He had scary eyes, flat and assessing, and they were an unusual color—gold, like a tiger’s eyes.

She froze. It couldn’t be…

“What?” He tilted his head, a move that unlocked memories from a long time ago.

“Lachlan?” she whispered.

He went still.

“Lachlan Hunter?”

He blinked slowly, his face still impassive, but she got the impression that she’d surprised him.

“It’s Rowan,” she said. “Rowan Caswell.”

Now his eyes widened. “Little Rowan?”

She set her drink down. “Not so little anymore.” Without stopping to think, she moved, cupping one of his cheeks. This was the boy next door, who’d snuck her chocolate and made her childhood bearable. “God, it’s been years.”

“Over twenty.”

When his family had moved away, she’d been devastated. Of course, his father’s suicide had changed everything. She’d spent hours in her treehouse with Lachlan, both of them escaping their homes and the difficult lives within.

Lachlan had always been quiet and intense, with those tiger eyes. He’d been trying to avoid his father’s depression and vicious mood swings, and at times, his fists. She’d been escaping her parents’ indifference, and her endless hours of homework, violin lessons, and tennis lessons.

“Rowan.” Lachlan pressed a big hand over hers.

“Lachlan?”

Rowan dropped her hand and looked up at the blonde woman watching her with an assessing gaze. Rowan blinked. The woman had two different colored eyes—one bright blue and one that was…silver? She realized it was some kind of prosthetic.

“Rowan, this is my second-in-command, Blair Mason,” Lachlan said.

Blair’s blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked like she’d pull out your fingernails if you made a wrong move. Note to self: stay on Blair Mason’s good side.

“Rowan was my neighbor when we were kids,” Lachlan said.

“I was a lot more gangly then, with braces and unruly red hair.” Rowan knew she’d been awkward and plain. Thankfully, she’d grown out of that phase.

“You grew up nicely.” A faint smile tipped Lachlan’s lips.

Rowan felt a tingle. She liked the way his lips curved. She wondered what it looked like when he outright smiled.

“Schafer?” Lachlan’s smile disappeared. “You’re married?”

She shook her head. “My parents divorced a few years after you moved. My mother changed my surname to hers.”

Lachlan nodded, his face turning serious. “As glad as I am to see you again, we need to talk about what happened here, Rowan.”

Rowan’s stomach dropped away. The small amount of coffee she’d drank curdled in her belly. “Someone got the mayday call.”

Lachlan nodded. “They sent my team in. You managed to survive the night.”

A quick nod. “I snuck out and pulled a blanket into the cupboard, but I was getting colder by the hour and so scared—” Her voice cracked.

“Take your time. Let me introduce my team. You’ve met Blair.” Lachlan gestured at a lean, dark man leaning against a table. “This is Seth Lynch.” The man inclined his head at her, his pale eyes unreadable. One side of his face was handsome, while the other was covered in terrible scars.

“Smith Creed.”

The big, bearded man had dirty-blond hair that looked several weeks past needing a haircut, and a beard shades darker. His arms were crossed over his immense chest, and Rowan had the crazy thought that he needed an axe in his hand. He lifted his chin at her.