Mission: Her Protection (Team 52 Book 1)

by Anna Hackett

  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.”

  The other woman grabbed his arm. “You sure?”

  He met their gazes. “I’m sure.”

  As they looked him in the eyes, their smiles faded. One shivered, and the one touching him stepped back.

  “Ah…okay.” The lip-licker was now biting her lip.

  They skirted around him, heels clicking on the sidewalk as they scurried away.

  A faint smile tipped his lips. He was used to the reaction. Women either avoided him, or the wilder, bolder ones threw themselves at him. Blair, his pain-in-the-ass best friend and his second-in-command, had once told him, “Lachlan, you’ve got a hell of a body and a rugged, handsome face designed to make a woman weep…until she looks at your golden eyes. Tiger eyes. Flat, scary, and predatory.”

  Of course, Blair wasn’t scared of him. She and the rest of his team got a few good laughs over the way people froze and took a step back in his presence. Lachlan didn’t give a shit. He’d been intense as a kid, too, and only one neighborhood friend hadn’t been afraid of him. The memory of a sassy little redhead with sad blue eyes sprang into his head. Hell, she’d been ten and he’d been thirteen when he’d moved away.

  When his dad had put a gun in his mouth and ended his life.

  Lachlan shook off the past. He knew there were far worse things out there than him, and he was more than happy to wade through the scum in order to protect his country.

  He’d seen the shitty underbelly of life. Crawled facefirst through the muck and mire of war, having seen and dealt with things he never wanted to think about, ever again. He flexed his right hand. His entire right arm was a high-tech prosthetic, and when he was off-duty and back in Vegas, he kept it out of sight under a Henley and a thin, skin-colored glove. He opened his titanium fingers, hidden under the glove. Yep, he’d gotten up close and personal with the worst of the worst.

  And he’d keep doing it, to ensure that women could dress up in pretty dresses and have fun, so families could sleep safely in their beds at night, and his mom could enjoy her happy retirement in Florida.

  He’d done it as a Marine, and now as leader of the covert, black ops group known as Team 52.

  Reaching the glass doors to the store, he stepped inside. He came in enough that he was a regular. The tense atmosphere hit him in the face instantly.

  In a split second, he took in the situation—the stressed, terrified young man behind the register, and the man in front of the counter with his back to Lachlan. The man appeared tense and jumpy, and was shouting. He was also waving around a Smith & Wesson 9mm. A man and woman were cowering in the aisle near the fridges.

  “Hey, Ricky,” Lachlan called out, striding toward the beer fridge. “How’s it hanging?”

  Ricky, who was tall but hadn’t yet filled out, looked at Lachlan with wide eyes. “Uh…hey, Lachlan.”

  “Just needed some beer.” Lachlan grabbed a six-pack of Coronas.

  He nodded at the couple, and gave them a discreet wave to move back. Then he turned, strolled to the front of the store and set the beer on the counter.

  “How much?” he asked.

  “Are you stupid?” the man beside him screamed.

  The guy stank and was clearly high. His clothes were stained with sweat and food.

  “Nope,” Lachlan said.

  “This is a robbery!”

  Lachlan raised a brow. “No, it’s not. This is you choosing to do the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong place.” Lachlan lowered his tone. “It is not your day, friend.”

  “I’m not your friend!”

  Lachlan just stared at the man.

  As Lachlan’s look clearly penetrated, fear skittered over the man’s face. Then the addict dredged up some bravado, spluttering as he swung the gun toward Lachlan.

  Lachlan moved fast. He slammed his hand to the back of the man’s head. The man’s face smashed into the counter.

  When he came up, his nose was broken and blood dripped down his face. He howled.

  Ignoring him, Lachlan grabbed the gun, and thrust the side of his prosthetic palm into the man’s throat.

  Gagging, the man dropped to his knees, clawing at his neck.

  Lachlan looked at Ricky, who was standing there, his mouth hanging open.

  “Duct tape?”

  “Huh?” Ricky blinked.

  “You got any duct tape?”

  “Uh…yeah.” The young man fished around in a drawer, then handed a roll of silver tape to Lachlan.

  With quick, practiced moves, Lachlan taped the would-be robber’s wrists and ankles together. He was sobbing now.

  “Call the cops, Ricky,” Lachlan ordered.

  The kid nodded jerkily and turned to the phone.

  Lachlan glanced at the couple. “You guys okay?”

  They both nodded, creeping forward, their gazes darting between Lachlan and the sobbing robber.

  “We’re okay thanks to you,” the man said.

  Lachlan lifted his chin, then glanced back at Ricky. “How much do I owe you for the beer?”

  “Nothing, man. Wow, you were like—” he made a motion with his hand “—I dunno, Batman or something.”

  Lachlan tried not to wince. If Blair ever heard that, she’d bust her gut laughing. “Minus the dumb mask.”

  “You were so cool, dude,” Ricky breathed.

  A vibration in his pocket. Lachlan pulled out his sleek, black phone. It looked like a normal cellphone but was actually satellite-equipped, plus had a few hidden extras as well. “Hunter.”

  “Hey, where are you?” Blair’s throaty voice came through the line.

  “Getting beer.”

  “I’m at your place. We just got called in. I was close, so I volunteered to pick you up.”

  Lachlan frowned. “We just got back.”

  “Apparently, emergencies don’t wait for us to take time off,” Blair said dryly. “And this mission is priority.”

  Shit. It was serious, then. Dreams of a quiet night and a few beers disappeared in a puff of smoke. There was a flash of blue-and-red lights outside and Lachlan saw the police cruiser pull up.

  “Okay, let me deal with the police, and I’ll be back in ten.”

  “Police?”

  “Someone decided to rob my local convenience store.”

  There was an amused snort. “They still breathing?”

  “Yes, but not through his broken nose.” Lachlan shot the man a glare and he shrunk back.

  “Stupid bastard,” Blair said. “The X8 is fueled and waiting for us.”

  “Acknowledged. Where are we headed?” Lachlan would get a full briefing on their high-speed jet-helicopter, but he liked to be prepared.

  “Northern Canada.”

  Brr. “See you in ten.”

  He closed the phone and watched the police officers step inside. Ricky rushed over, and launched into an excitable account of what had happened. The older officer looked at the sobbing robber, then to Lachlan.

  “Military?”

  “Former,” Lachlan answered. What he did now was classified.

  “Special forces?”

  He nodded.

  “SEAL?” the officer asked.

  “Marine Force Reconnaissance.” Most people lost interest after that. While they’d often heard of the exploits of Navy SEALs, Force Recon was less well known. Which was just how they liked it.

  The officer’s eyes widened. “Force Recon.” Clearly, he’d heard of the Force Reconnaissance teams. “Well, thanks for not killing him.”

  Lachlan quickly gave his statement, his mind already turning to his upc
oming mission.

  Someone out there needed him and his team. He flexed his gloved hand. It was time for Lachlan to do what he did best.

  Chapter Three

  The experimental, jet-powered X8 helicopter came in low over the Gilman Glacier.

  Lachlan pressed one hand to the doorway leaning into the cockpit, watching Seth and Blair in the pilot seats, bringing them closer to the Hazen Research Base.

  The X8 not only had coaxial dual rotors, it had a wide body with jet engines, giving the aircraft the best elements of both helicopter and plane. It possessed more than double the speed of most helicopters and had an increased range. They’d had to do a mid-air refuel en route, but they were now coming in on their target.

  Ahead, Lachlan took in the stunning view of the ice glinting in the morning sun through the X8’s wide windshield.

  “Who the hell would want to come out here?” Seth said. “On purpose.”

  Seth Lynch, a former CIA agent from the Agency’s Special Activities Division, sounded bored. Lachlan knew the man well and knew that wasn’t the case. Tall, dark, and lean, Seth was very good at letting people only see what he wanted them to see. Lachlan had given up trying to work out how many languages Seth spoke or how many accents he could mimic.

  Seth wasn’t bored. Far from it.

  “Apparently, a team of scientists from universities all around the world,” Lachlan answered. “To study glacial ice.”

  Seth looked back over his shoulder and raised a dark eyebrow. He was wearing his all-white, cold-weather gear, his hands moving easily over the X8’s controls. One side of his face was smooth skin, while the other side was covered in a mass of scars.

  “Sounds like they ended up with more than ice.”

  “Yeah,” the blonde woman beside Seth said. “They had an unwelcome visitor.”

  Blair Mason’s blonde ponytail swung behind her. Lachlan’s best friend and second-in-command was also former Marine Force Recon.

  She was tough and competent as hell, and had fought beside Lachlan for years. He’d saved her life a time or two, and Blair had more than returned the favor. The woman was an expert in close-quarter combat, and fought mean. There was nothing the woman loved more than tossing bad guys on their asses, usually after she toyed with them for a bit first.

  “Yeah.” The frantic transmission he’d listened to had been playing over and over in Lachlan’s head. A man identifying himself as Dr. Samuel Malu had called in a distress call requesting help. The transmission had ended on a terrified scream, and the sound of…something else.

  Lachlan spotted the outlines of the domes in the distance. He turned to the rest of his team. In the back of the aircraft, Smith Creed, Axel Diaz, and Callie Kimura all sat, bodies relaxed and also clad in white cold-weather gear. Big, burly Smith, a former Navy SEAL, was cleaning his rifle. Former Air Force Pararescueman Callie—the Team 52 medic—was sorting out her medical backpack. Axel looked like he was asleep, but Lachlan knew the former Delta Force soldier could be awake and move fast when required.

  “Okay, listen up. We’re nearly at the camp.” His team all looked up. “Something appears to have attacked these scientists, but we have no idea what. There should be nothing out here but ice. We’ve tried to establish contact with the base, but there’s been no response.”

  “You think someone attacked them?” Axel’s voice was a smooth drawl.

  “I don’t know.” Lachlan never speculated. He planned for all the contingencies he could think of, but he waited for the facts.

  “And why has our little outfit been called in for this mission?” Blair called back from the cockpit.

  “Team 52 was activated based on a comment by Dr. Malu, and an email sent earlier by the expedition leader, a Dr. Schafer.” Lachlan looked at them all. “Malu was rambling and afraid, but he mentioned some unusual object they’d found in the ice. An object that was perhaps made of metal, and with possible strange carvings on it.”

  Smith leaned forward. Born and raised in the Colorado mountains, with his brawn and beard, he looked like a mountain man. The former Navy SEAL knew more about weapons than anyone Lachlan had worked with. He was also a hell of a tracker. “How old’s the ice on this glacier?”

  “Five thousand years old.”

  Smith blinked. “Well, I take it we’re here to find out what happened and procure the object.”

  “You guessed right.” Lachlan looked back out the window and studied the connected domes rising up off the ice. He could see one large dome was damaged, like a giant had punched its way out. “We’re here. Let’s get ready to go. Be prepared for anything.”

  Lachlan checked his high-tech CXM7 integrated assault rifle. The experimental weapon had an integrated grenade launcher and combat shotgun, as well as assisted targeting. He watched his team ready themselves. All of them were professionals, from all branches of the armed forces. Like him, their traditional military careers had ended for various reasons—he flexed his prosthetic hand—but because of their skills, they’d been offered an opportunity with Team 52.

  His covert team was tasked with collecting and safeguarding artifacts and objects deemed highly dangerous or classified. Artifacts that no one wanted falling into the wrong hands.

  Lachlan might still feel the odd pang of loss for his Force Recon days, but working with this motley crew, and the strange assignments they took on, had proved rewarding. They did good work. Important work.

  “Landing now,” Blair said.

  Seth and Blair set the X8 down close to the camp. Lachlan slid the side door open and leaped out first. He scanned the surroundings, then waved the others to follow. Moments later, his team fanned out beside him.

  Apart from the several flags fluttering on the nearby flagpoles, there was no sound.

  “Spooky,” Seth murmured, his pale-blue eyes alight.

  “Stay sharp.” Lachlan moved forward. “Let’s clear the place and look for survivors.”

  They all nodded. Lachlan moved forward and as he reached the entrance to the first dome, he lifted his weapon.

  It was cold inside. They moved quickly to clear the first dome.

  “What the fuck?” Seth moved forward, staring at the macabre scene.

  Lachlan’s mouth firmed. A woman hung from the roof, frozen in a web of ice, her face etched in fear. What the hell had happened here?

  “Let’s clear the rest of the domes, then we’ll cut her down and bag her.”

  Lifting his rifle again, he waved two fingers at Smith, Axel, and Callie. The trio split off. Seth and Blair fell in behind him. They methodically moved through the domes.

  They found more bodies in the labs and sleeping quarters. Lachlan studied the icy-white eyes, and the coating of ice covering the scientists’ skin and clothes. Several had wild slashes on their chests.

  Blair knelt beside a young woman with dark hair. “She froze to death.”

  Lachlan rubbed his prosthetic thumb against his rifle. “Yeah.”

  Blair leaned closer. “This isn’t from exposure, Lachlan. It’s cold in here, but not that cold. See their eyes? And their veins? Frozen solid. I’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever happened, it happened quickly.”

  Seth frowned, his gaze scanning the room around them. “Flash frozen?”

  Blair stood. “Something like that.”

  Lachlan stared at the bodies. “We’ll bag the bodies and take them with us. Ty will want to examine them.”

  Axel and the others appeared. “These are going to make the doc bitch and moan.” Axel’s thick brown hair fell over his dark eyes.

  Dr. Ty Sampson was Team 52’s lead genius. The big man was a former Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA, scientist, once responsible for developing emerging technologies for the military. Now he did it for Team 52 and he was grumpy as hell, especially when he had a mystery to solve.

  “Let’s clear the last two domes.” Lachlan moved forward. “Blair, you and Seth start bagging the bodies. Check to see if we’re mis
sing anyone.”

  His second nodded and waved at Seth. “You’re with me, Lynch.”

  “Smith, with me,” Lachlan ordered. “Axel and Callie, you check the other dome.”

  Lachlan and Smith found a dark-skinned, older man next to a destroyed communications system. He matched the photo of Dr. Malu. Lachlan stared numbly at the man’s face. It had been a long time since death had made him react.

  Shit. Maybe he’d been doing this too long? He remembered his dad. A Marine to the bone, Douglas Hunter had come back from Vietnam and never been the same. He’d had a numbness in his eyes mixed with pain that could explode into rage without warning.

  Lachlan shoved the old memories away and focused. There was an empty office he assumed belonged to the base leader, Dr. Rowan Schafer. He had a grainy, black and white picture of her that was particularly unflattering. They hadn’t found her yet.

  Smith opened the door to the attached storage room. Nothing.

  Lachlan touched his earpiece. All the team wore state-of-the-art microdot communicators. So tiny they were barely visible to the naked eye.

  “Clear. Whatever did this, it isn’t here now.” Lachlan glanced at Smith and the man nodded.

  “Clear.” Axel’s voice.

  “Clear,” Blair added. “We’re starting work on bagging the bodies.”

  Lachlan nodded at Smith. They moved back through the tunnels and into the main lab dome. Benches and shelves had been tipped over and torn up. Glass crunched under his boots.

  As they moved to join the others in the rec dome, something danced along Lachlan’s senses. He turned in a slow circle. The lab was silent and cold. Nothing moved.

  “Boss?” Smith asked.

  “Go. I want to take one last look around. See if I can find this object they discovered in the ice.”

  Smith nodded and tapped his ear. “Just holler if you need me.”

  After he’d left, Lachlan carefully traveled the perimeter of the dome. There had definitely been a struggle in here, and something had rampaged through the lab. He reached the back wall and noted several boxes on the floor, and a shelf leaning against the wall. A shelf?