Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(53)

Rowan shot to her feet, just as the Red Wolves rushed in. “Stop!”

Aimee let out a roar that rattled the windows. Someone tackled Rowan, and she hit the floor again, hard. The breath was knocked out of her and she tried to fight. But her attacker was bigger and heavier, and she felt a knee press into her lower back, holding her down.

Her gaze went to Aimee, who was struggling with the net.

“Don’t hurt her!” Rowan yelled.

“Hold the creature down,” a voice called out.

Rowan struggled, and the man holding her pushed down harder. He pressed a hand to the floor beside Rowan’s head. She sucked in a breath. There was a Trident tattoo on his wrist.

They were Legion de Mer. They were only pretending to be Red Wolves.

She couldn’t let them get the artifact.

“You have no idea what you’re doing.” She struggled again.

The man crouched, his face close to hers, his gray eyes were depthless and cold.

“I assure you, Dr. Schafer, I know exactly what I’m doing.” This man’s accent was definitely French. “That weapon is very valuable. Reverse engineered, I can sell it to the world’s militaries.” He smiled now, but it was icy. “Imagine a new breed of super-soldier suits. I’ll be the wealthiest man on the planet.”

“It’s too dangerous,” she insisted.

He gave her a shrug. “Life is dangerous.” He lifted his balaclava a little and she saw that the bottom half of his face was scarred, much like Seth’s. “Better to have weapons to protect you and yours.”

Aimee threw herself backward, sending one of the men crashing into the wall. Two big men stepped forward, holding long prods. As they jammed them into Aimee, her body shuddered, and she made pained noises.

God, they were really hurting her. Rowan tasted bile as she watched. Another soldier, this one a sandy-haired female, knelt down. She reached through the net and gripped the artifact. She tugged, trying to pry it off Aimee’s chest.

The woman shook her head. “I think we’ll have to kill the host.” This woman’s accent was South African.

The scarred man stood, yanking Rowan to her feet. “Very well.”

“No.” Rowan slammed herself into the man. She managed to knock the man off balance, and together, they stumbled into the wall.

Someone grabbed her arms and wrenched them back painfully. She was dragged off the scarred man.

He scowled at her, straightening and tugging on the hem of his shirt. Then he swung out, backhanding her.

Ow. Rowan tasted blood and pain detonated across her cheek.

“A bad choice, Dr. Schafer.”

“I’d do it again, asshole.”

“Sir,” a soldier called out.

Rowan swiveled and her breath caught.

Lachlan was running down the hallway, holding his high-tech rifle. God, did the damn man think he was impervious to bullets? Her heart leaped into her throat.

The soldiers opened fire and Lachlan dived into a side room.

And that’s when bodies dropped from the ceiling panels, right on top of the balaclava-clad men around her.

Rowan watched Blair launch into a roundhouse kick, taking down a soldier. Smith slammed two men together. Axel, Seth, and Callie exploded into action.

Her heart soared. Team 52 had arrived.



*

Lachlan spun around the corner and charged toward the fight.

He fired his CXM and when he was close enough, launched into the fight. Kick. Jab. Cross. One soldier went down and Lachlan spun, dropping to one knee. He rammed his fist into another soldier’s gut.

Ahead, Blair and Seth were fighting together. They were taking on three balaclava-clad soldiers. Blair kicked a weapon from one man’s hand, and then jabbed the heel of her palm into the man’s nose. Seth spun, slamming a punch into the neck of another.

Nearby, Callie fired on two others, while Smith fought with his usual strength and debilitating blows. Axel looked like he was out for an evening stroll—all fluid grace and casual ease. But he packed a punch that got the job done.

Lachlan’s gaze locked on Rowan. There was more swelling on her face, and his jaw clenched. Someone would pay.

He punched another soldier hard enough that the man slammed into the wall.

Rowan was crawling over to where Airman Kowalski lay on the ground, moving sluggishly.

“Rowan.” Lachlan dropped down beside her.

She reached for him, hugging him tight. “God, Lachlan.”

“You’re okay?” She was whole and in his arms again. Thank God.

She nodded. “We need to help Aimee.”

Lachlan pulled out his knife and quickly cut off the net. The woman lay prone on the ground, her chest heaving.

“We need to get the artifact off her.” Rowan reached out with cautious hands, touching the artifact.

Lachlan kept one eye on the fight. The bastards were almost all taken care of. “The Legion assholes couldn’t remove it.”

“Because they were hurting her and she was agitated.” Rowan leaned over Aimee. “Aimee, you need to relax and let it go.”

Milky eyes locked with Rowan’s, and Airman Kowalski let out a shuddering breath. Her tense muscles relaxed.

The artifact came off in Rowan’s hand.

Kowalski’s body began to shrink back to normal, her skin turning pink again. In seconds, there was a naked, exhausted woman lying on the floor.