Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(35)

She grabbed the man’s balaclava and yanked on it.

More curses filled the air, and they almost rear-ended the sedan. The driver slammed on the brakes, and Rowan gripped on to the man to keep from flying into the windshield.

The man in the passenger seat grabbed at Rowan. She struggled, trying to hit him. Then the driver moved, elbowing her in the head.

Pain exploded through her face and, with a cry, Rowan slumped back in the seat, cradling her left eye. Ow.

“Sit fucking still.” The driver snapped at her, his balaclava askew. His face was surprisingly handsome in a strong-jawed, boy-next-door way.

The passenger swiveled and aimed a gun at her. “Do as he says, or I will shoot you.”

She glared at him. The driver righted himself, muttering more curses. He grabbed the wheel, and the vehicle jerked forward again.

They picked up speed, pulling back into traffic. Then the driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Motherfuckers.”

Rowan spun and her pulse leaped.

Two black SUVs were bearing down on them. Fast.

Rowan decided to strap in and clipped her seatbelt closed. The driver sped up, weaving wildly in and out of traffic. She heard horns honking and saw cars swerve out of their way.

The gray sedan moved alongside them and she watched the men in it signal her driver. Then it fell back, drawing closer to the lead Team 52 SUV.

God, what now? She saw the sedan’s windows lower, and guns were aimed at the black SUVs.

No. Her chest locked. Gunfire cracked through the air, and the SUV dodged. But what they didn’t do was slow down. They were still gaining speed.

Then, she spotted Blair hanging out one window, face composed, returning fire.

That’s when Rowan saw the second black SUV roaring forward. Her eyes widened. It was going to— It rammed into the back of the sedan. The sound of screeching tires and more honking horns followed the crunch of metal on metal. The sedan veered into the median in the center of the road, and crashed into a palm tree.

“Fuck!” Rowan’s driver bit out.

“Keep going,” the passenger yelled. “Faster.”

Rowan looked back. Blair was still hanging out a window, firing at them.

Suddenly, Rowan’s SUV swerved, and the driver’s curses got damn creative.

“They hit a tire!” the driver yelled.

“Keep going. There’s more traffic ahead. Blend in.”

No. That was a terrible idea.

The driver turned sharply, tires squealing. They sped into the other lane, and Rowan was jerked against her belt.

They roared closer to the cluster of traffic ahead. The driver weaved in and out of cars and trucks. Vehicles swerved, and more horns honked.

Oh, God. They were going to crash.

Team 52 was right behind them and suddenly, the crumpled silver sedan rejoined the chase.

It sped recklessly toward one black SUV, with Blair still firing from the side. But as it drew alongside, Blair ducked back inside, and the SUV jerked toward the car.

It rammed into the side of the sedan. The car veered off the road. It bumped over a curb, and crashed into the driveway of the casino before smashing into a fountain. Water sprayed everywhere.

“Yes!” Rowan grinned.

The passenger swiveled and shot her a dirty look. She glared back.

“Shit,” the driver said.

Rowan looked up and saw a slow-moving RV right in front of them. The driver jerked the wheel to avoid it.

It swung them right up alongside one of the Team 52 SUVs.

Rowan saw Blair in the passenger seat, and Lachlan at the wheel.

She pressed her lips together. They’d come for her again. He’d come for her.

The other SUV pulled in close behind them.

Suddenly, the traffic cleared. Lachlan’s vehicle roared forward and then swung in front of them.

The SUV’s taillights flashed on.

Oh, shit. She braced herself, and heard the driver swear. They rear-ended the black SUV with a crunch of metal and breaking glass.

Rowan was tossed hard against her belt.

The man in the passenger seat wasn’t strapped in. He sailed through the windshield. The driver’s air bag went off with a bang. She heard him groaning.

Rowan’s ears were ringing again, and she shook her head a little to try and clear it.

Suddenly, the doors were yanked open. She watched the airbag deflate, and the driver was pulled out of the vehicle.

Her door opened, and she blinked up at Lachlan. He reached in, unlatching her belt.

“Okay?” His face was set in hard lines, those gold eyes extremely pissed off.

She nodded as he helped her out. As soon as she was vertical, her knees gave way. Lachlan scooped her into his arms, and she held onto him.

“You’re not okay,” he muttered.

She slid her arm along his shoulders. “I am now.” Then she passed out.





Chapter Eleven





Lachlan paced his living room, watching Callie check Rowan over. She had an ugly bruise and swelling forming on the left side of her face.

Heat roared through him. One of those bastards had hit her. She was lucky she didn’t have a concussion or a broken cheekbone.

He’d just returned from dropping the men they’d captured off in the secure bunker beneath their hangar at the airport. They’d attempted to question the driver of the vehicle, but the man wasn’t talking. Lachlan had left him in Seth’s capable hands. The man was a hell of an interrogator.