Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(17)

“Exactly. How advanced, we aren’t sure. Have you heard of Hueyátlaco?”

She shook her head.

“It’s an archeological site in Mexico. Archeologists worked there during the sixties and discovered stone tools and animal remains in situ, seemingly undisturbed. Two different dating methods dated the site up to two hundred and fifty thousand years old.”

“What?” she breathed.

“And then there’s G?bekli Tepe in southern Turkey,” he added.

“I’ve heard of that. An archeological site that was made a world heritage site, right?”

“Right. Discovered in the sixties, it was mostly ignored, but archeologists have been working on it over the last few years and G?bekli Tepe doesn’t make sense. It’s Neolithic, with the world’s oldest megaliths, skilled construction, and amazing carvings.” He paused. “It is also twelve thousand years old. It predates Stonehenge, Sumer, and writing by six thousand years.”

Rowan’s mouth dropped open.

“I could go on. Sunken ruins off the coast of India that are thousands of years old. Highly classified ruins under the ice in Antarctica.”

“No way,” she breathed.

“Human civilization was more advanced than we believed, and was mostly destroyed by flooding at the end of the last ice age.”

“Flooding.” She sat bolt upright like she’d been prodded. “Atlantis?”

He winced. “Atlantis is a hokey myth cobbled together from snippets of truth. Yes, advanced cultures existed, but all over the planet, not in one mythical utopia. There are myths about sunken cities and continents from all over the world.”

“This is…mind-boggling.” She pushed her hair back.

“There are some characteristic signs, like megalithic, large-scale constructions that they left behind. And there are some artifacts…that contain abilities that are dangerous.”

“Like this metallic circle.”

“Yes. I’m guessing Lars accidentally activated it.”

Rowan took a deep breath. “Who the hell could have been living up on Ellesmere Island five thousand years ago? Who had the ability to make something like that? The Pre-Dorset culture lived there around that time, and records show they were people who hunted seals and caribou.”

“I don’t have the answers yet. My team back at base will analyze the artifact, and piece together what they can.”

“Then what?”

“Then the artifact will be secured in a top-secret facility.”

She gripped the armrests of her seat. “What aren’t you saying?”

“That there are a lot of people out there, not nice people, who would kill to get their hands on the artifact.”

Rowan went still. “Terrorists?”

Lachlan nodded. “And arms dealers, crime syndicates, black-market thieves, dictators, unfriendly regimes, and—”

She held up a hand. “I get it. Where’s your base?”

“Nevada.”

Suddenly, her shoulders sagged. “So it’s likely my team dying was just a tragic, meaningless accident.”

“Rowan—”

Her lips trembled and he saw she was trying hard to hold it together. “I was the base leader. It was my responsibility to keep them safe.”

He grabbed her hand. “You couldn’t have prepared for something like this.”

“They’re dead, Lars is hurt, and I’m alive.” Her voice broke.

Survivor guilt. Lachlan knew all too well how that felt. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart. I know you will.”

She shook her head and a tear tracked down her cheek. “It’s tearing me up inside.”

Not caring that his team would give him hell for it later, Lachlan undid her belt and yanked her into his lap. She held herself stiff.

“Let it out, Rowan.”

She shook her head again, a little desperately. “I can’t. I don’t cry. I don’t lose it.”

“You used to cry all the time.”

“Not after you left…I…” Another tear slid down her cheek. “I guess I grew up and got tougher.”

Something slid through his gut. No, she just didn’t have anyone to hold her when she cried anymore. God, her parents had been cold assholes, and he guessed that hadn’t changed.

“I’ve got you, Rowan. Let it out.”

She leaned into him, a sob breaking free. Her hands gripped him. “I’m alive and they’re all dead.” She started crying, not loud and obnoxious, but quiet, her shoulders shaking.

Lachlan pulled her face to his chest and held on tight. She burrowed into him. He rested his chin on the top of her head, wishing he could spare her all of this. He saw his team was all looking away, giving them what privacy they could.

Finally, her crying stopped. When he tipped her face back, her eyes were red and she looked exhausted.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this—”

“Rowan, stop beating yourself up.”

“Your shirt’s a little wet.”

“It’ll dry.” He rubbed a thumb over her damp cheek. “We have a few hours to go. Why don’t you get some rest?”

She made a choked sound. “Like I’ll be able to sleep after all of this.”