Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(23)

Ugly emotions filling her chest, she spun around. She wasn’t going to sit here feeling sorry for herself. She had a night in Vegas in a fancy hotel, and she was determined to enjoy the hell out of this sweet room.

In the huge bathroom, she flicked on the faucet, running a bath and tipping in some of the sweet-smelling bubble bath. After stripping, she took her time soaking in the bubbles. The hot water worked wonders on her tense muscles.

When she was finished, she wrapped herself in a fluffy robe and couldn’t stop herself from checking the phone. There were no messages.

Rowan ordered room service. She ate some of her steak and salad, and sipped her glass of wine. She tried to watch a movie, but found herself thinking of poor Lars and her dead friends. She hated the thought of Isabel, Emily, and the others lying cold and still in a morgue at Area 52.

Flicking off the television, she glanced at the still-silent phone, then moved over to her bag. She dropped the robe and pulled on some pajama shorts and a tank top in a deep green. It felt like forever since she’d worn warm-weather clothes. It was going to take a while to get used to not wearing an arctic coat everywhere.

Knowing she’d never be able to get to sleep yet, she flicked off the lights and curled up on the huge couch that sat, facing the windows. She grabbed a soft throw blanket, pulled it over herself, and stared at the lights outside. In the distance, she saw a dancing fountain, and watched as lights strobed through the night sky.

She wondered what Lachlan and his team were doing.

No. She squashed that thought. Lachlan had made it clear that, while he was happy to see her again, that was as far as his interest went. She’d been a job, with a side of childhood nostalgia, that was it.

So why the hell did it hurt so much? She pulled her knees to her chest. Tomorrow, she’d get back to New York and do what she always did—get on with things. If nothing else, Dr. Rowan Schafer knew how to put one foot in front of the other.

The loneliness sank onto her shoulders like a stone. Surprisingly, while sitting there in the darkness watching the Las Vegas lights, she fell asleep.

Rowan jerked awake, with no idea how much time had passed. She pushed her hair back. She’d been dreaming about hearing that horrible roar echoing through the base.

She blinked groggily in the darkness and heard a noise.

Breathing.

Terror slid through her veins, bringing her to full wakefulness with a jolt. Was the thing here?

Rowan shook her head. The artifact was locked up in a secure base. Keeping still, she slowly turned her head and watched as a shadow moved by the bed across the room.

Then, flashes of light sparked in the room, accompanied by a muffled sound. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her body jerked. God. Gunshots with a silencer.

Her heart pounded in her chest like it was out of control. Being as quiet as she could, she slid off the couch and to the carpet. Her mouth was dry. Shit. Shit.

“She’s not here,” a voice muttered.

“Find her,” another deep, masculine voice said.

Rowan crawled across the floor. Where should she go? She spotted another big shadow standing by the front door. Dammit, she couldn’t get out that way. She detoured, heading toward the sliding doors leading to the balcony.

“Bag’s here. She must be here somewhere.”

“Maybe she’s down in the casino?”

She made it to the glass door and reached up slowly. If they looked this way, they’d see her silhouetted against the lights outside. She flicked open the lock. Slowly, she started edging the sliding door open, praying it wouldn’t make too much noise.

Suddenly, the bedroom was flooded with light.

“There she is!” a man shouted.

Rowan exploded up and out the door, banging her hip as she pushed through. The night air was cooler, but still felt warm to her. She ran down the long balcony.

And of course, there was nowhere to go. Shit. Shit. Shit. Luck was not on her side. It never was.

She glanced back and saw the three men pushing out the door. They were all holding guns.

Desperation thumping in her chest, she threw a leg over the railing. She looked down at the Aurora’s huge, glass casino roof below. It wasn’t far down and was flat. There were only a few balconies between hers and the roof. Looked like she was going for a climb.

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.