Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(30)

“Sure.”

When Rowan entered the hospital-like room off the lab, she felt as though a rock had lodged in her chest. Lars was resting in a bed, hooked up to various beeping machines. He looked so pale she could almost see through his skin.

She sat beside him, and wished she could see him give her that goofy smile again while he flexed his terrible flirting skills. She talked quietly to him, assuring him everything was going to be okay, when she really wasn’t sure if she was lying or not.

When the door opened and Brooks’ head appeared, Rowan had no idea how much time had passed.

“Ready for some lunch?” the man asked.

With a nod, Rowan followed Brooks into the rec room. Natalie was there, sitting at a bench, wearing another smart skirt in black and a red shirt. Her elegant legs were crossed, and she had a set of glasses perched on her nose. She had the sexy-librarian look perfected today.

The archeologist looked up. “Hi, Rowan.”

“Where is everyone?” Rowan asked.

“Training exercise.” Brooks waved to a stool and strode over to the glass-fronted refrigerator, pulling out some pre-packaged salads.

He handed one to Rowan and proceeded to douse his with Ranch dressing. Rowan forced down a few mouthfuls, but toyed with the rest of the food, too churned up to eat. Brooks and Natalie talked quietly.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. Rowan’s head snapped up as an older man with a buzz cut stormed in. He had a grizzled face and wore black fatigues.

His faded blue gaze locked on Rowan.

“Hey, Arlo,” Brooks called out.

The man made a harrumphing sound. Rowan blinked. Brooks and Nat didn’t even react to the strong, unhappy vibes emanating from the man.

“See you’re in your usual good mood.” Nat winked at Rowan. “Arlo, this is Dr. Rowan Schafer. Rowan, Arlo takes care of the warehouse here.”

“Ah, hello.” Rowan fixed a polite smile on her face. Those blue eyes were pinned on her, assessing.

“Heard Hunter jumped off a building for you.”

Rowan didn’t think Arlo sounded particularly happy about that fact. “Lachlan strikes me as the kind of guy who’d do that for anyone.”

Arlo made another grumpy sound. “Come on, you’re with me.”

“I am?” She shot a wide-eyed look at Nat and Brooks, who were grinning. They waved as she slipped off her stool.

Rowan followed the man out of the rec room and down the hall. Her mouth dropped open when she noticed the huge double doors to the warehouse were wide open.

The cavernous space was filled with row upon row of black shelves that rose all the way up to the ceiling, looming high above. Black boxes and crates, of all different shapes and sizes, rested on them. Everything was made of matte-black metal.

As they passed over the huge threshold, she took in the enormous, high-tech locking mechanism on the door. From what she could see, all the crates had fancy locking mechanisms on them as well.

Wow. “All these crates store dangerous objects and ancient technology?” She followed Arlo down one of the rows. He grunted, which she took as a yes.

“The crates all have state-of-the-art bio-locks on them.” His voice was a step beyond gravelly. “Only a few people can open them. Myself, Hunter, Mason, and the director.”

“Amazing.”

At the back of the warehouse, he pointed to a long bench pressed up against the wall. It was covered in tools, papers, and equipment.

“I hate paperwork.” He jabbed a finger at it. “You can help me.”

Rowan was too afraid to tell the crusty man no. Besides, something to keep her busy wasn’t exactly unwelcome.

As she started sorting through the files, he picked up a tool and started to work on one of the black cases. It was empty, and it appeared he was repairing it.

Flicking through the files, she glanced at the paperwork. Most of them were filled with notations and test results for various objects. The majority of the files were identified with numbers and codes, and she wondered what the objects all were, and where they’d come from.

Arlo finished work on his crate, and she watched as he settled an object into the box. The metallic artifact looked like something from a king’s treasury. It was a small club, with what looked like claws at either end.

“What’s that?”

She didn’t expect him to answer. “Vajra.” He slammed the lid shut and pressed his thumb to the pad on the front. There was a beep, followed by the sounds of locks spinning.

Vajra? It sounded Indian. “What’s it do?”

“Nothing good.”

Before she could ask anything else, a siren started blaring.

Arlo’s head whipped up, and pretty fast for an older guy, he rushed toward the door. Rowan followed, sprinting down one of the rows.

“What’s going on?”

Arlo didn’t reply.

They burst out of the warehouse. The siren was louder and red emergency lights were blinking. What the hell?

Across the room, the elevator doors opened, and Lachlan and his team strode out. They were all wearing black fatigues and holding their rifles.

“Status?” Lachlan demanded.

“What’s going on?” Rowan said again.

Brooks ran out of the corridor, his face set in hard lines. Ty was right behind him, looking like a thundercloud about to let loose.