Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 #1)(6)

Reaching her office dome, Rowan made her way to the comms room. She was shivering now, but she gritted her teeth against the cold. She inched inside the room, searching for any sign of movement.

Samuel Malu was slumped on the floor by the communications computer. Grief hit her like a tidal wave. The Nigerian scientist had been soft-spoken and smart, with a sense of humor she’d enjoyed. Rowan crouched and closed the man’s eyes. He too, was coated in ice, and the comms equipment was smashed. She prayed that the sweet, smart man had gotten a message out.

Whether help was coming or not, she was the expedition leader. She straightened. It was her team, and her responsibility to keep them safe.

She made it to her office and the storage locker on the far wall. She punched in the code on the pad. The doors opened, and Rowan quickly grabbed a pistol. She checked the Glock, loaded it with ammunition, then closed the locker door.

When she turned, she noted the base heating controls on a wall panel. The lights were all on and a steady green. The system was working. She shivered again. Clearly whatever had attacked them had caused a breach.

She left her office, moving stealthily along the wall. She needed to find Emily and the others.

Moments later, she arrived back in the rec dome. It was still empty, half eaten meals still sitting on the tables and a few chairs overturned. God, had it only been an hour ago that she’d sat here talking with her excited team? She noticed a small circle of something clear and gleaming in the center of one table. With a frown, she touched it. Cold. Water.

She looked up.

Her stomach revolted. “Oh, no. Emily.”

Her young friend hung, suspended from the ceiling of the dome, encased in a web of ice that held her in place. Her eyes were clouded over, her mouth open in a scream. One slender arm was held out and frozen in place, like she was fending someone—or something—off.

Rowan pressed a hand to her mouth, bile a bitter taste in her throat.

Emily was dead, too. God, was anyone else left alive, besides her?

Fear and grief made Rowan’s chest tight. She could barely draw a breath. The entire base was silent now, and a voice in her head murmured that it was likely her entire team was dead.

Fuck that. Rowan lifted her handgun. She strode down to the final dome—the living quarters.

She reached the door. The lights were flickering, and when she took a step forward, she saw the bodies lying on the beds.

Nausea punched through her. She saw Isabel and the rest of her team.

They were all dead.

Isabel. No! The woman had fought back against her attacker, and was lying near an overturned bunk. Her dark hair was stark against her icy skin.

Rowan took a shaky step backward and bumped into a chair. It teetered, before crashing to the floor.

The sound was so loud. She froze.

Then she heard that same animal roar reverberate through the domes.

Shit. Rowan turned and ran. She sprinted blindly through the tunnels and domes. Where to go? If she went out on the ice, she was as good as dead. If she stayed in here, she’d end up like the rest of her team.

Without conscious thought, Rowan ended up back in the first lab. She looked around frantically.

Then she heard heavy breathing and the scrape of something on the floor.

It was coming.

She scanned the dome and went very still, searching the room. Nothing. She couldn’t see whatever the hell it was.

A footstep. Another.

It was coming from the opposite tunnel.

Rowan aimed her pistol. Her hands shook wildly. But the instinct to hide was too strong. Swallowing a cry, her gaze fell on the cabinet she’d hid in earlier. She dived back into it, and pulled the doors shut. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely manage to close the damn doors.

This time, they closed all the way.

She gripped the pistol in front of her, her breaths shuddering in and out of her lungs.

Rowan couldn’t see anything, but suddenly, she felt the temperature drop another couple of degrees, and she heard the heavy footsteps outside her hiding place.

Whatever the thing was, it had just entered the lab.



*

Lachlan Hunter strode down the Las Vegas sidewalk. In the distance, the glow from the casinos lit up the sky, and he could almost feel the pulse of energy from the Strip.

But tonight, he had no desire for noise, light, or people. They’d just gotten back from a mission. He was pretty sure some of his team would hit the casinos and clubs to blow off some steam, but all Lachlan wanted was a decent steak, a beer, and some sleep.

Of course, he’d returned to an empty apartment, and an even emptier fridge. Okay, not an entirely empty fridge. There had been something moldy growing on the top shelf.

Anyway, the lack of beer, combined with the science experiment, had forced him out of his apartment and toward the local corner store to grab a six-pack. He’d order a pizza later, and get groceries delivered tomorrow. Preferably after eight solid hours of sleep.

Female voices made him lift his head. Two women—both dolled up in short, sparkly dresses—were heading toward him on the sidewalk. No doubt bound for one of the clubs. He watched their gazes sharpen and run over him. He saw one lick her lips and smile.

“Hey there,” the lip-licker called out. “We’re headed to the casinos for a good time. How about you join us?”

“Not tonight,” Lachlan replied. “Have a good evening.”