by Anna Hackett
Rowan’s mouth dropped open.
“I could go on. Sunken ruins off the coast of India that are thousands of years old. Highly classified ruins under the ice in Antarctica.”
“No way,” she breathed.
“Human civilization was more advanced than we believed, and was mostly destroyed by flooding at the end of the last ice age.”
“Flooding.” She sat bolt upright like she’d been prodded. “Atlantis?”
He winced. “Atlantis is a hokey myth cobbled together from snippets of truth. Yes, advanced cultures existed, but all over the planet, not in one mythical utopia. There are myths about sunken cities and continents from all over the world.”
“This is…mind-boggling.” She pushed her hair back.
“There are some characteristic signs, like megalithic, large-scale constructions that they left behind. And there are some artifacts…that contain abilities that are dangerous.”
“Like this metallic circle.”
“Yes. I’m guessing Lars accidentally activated it.”
Rowan took a deep breath. “Who the hell could have been living up on Ellesmere Island five thousand years ago? Who had the ability to make something like that? The Pre-Dorset culture lived there around that time, and records show they were people who hunted seals and caribou.”
“I don’t have the answers yet. My team back at base will analyze the artifact, and piece together what they can.”
“Then what?”
“Then the artifact will be secured in a top-secret facility.”
She gripped the armrests of her seat. “What aren’t you saying?”
“That there are a lot of people out there, not nice people, who would kill to get their hands on the artifact.”
Rowan went still. “Terrorists?”
Lachlan nodded. “And arms dealers, crime syndicates, black-market thieves, dictators, unfriendly regimes, and—”
She held up a hand. “I get it. Where’s your base?”
“Nevada.”
Suddenly, her shoulders sagged. “So it’s likely my team dying was just a tragic, meaningless accident.”
“Rowan—”
Her lips trembled and he saw she was trying hard to hold it together. “I was the base leader. It was my responsibility to keep them safe.”
He grabbed her hand. “You couldn’t have prepared for something like this.”
“They’re dead, Lars is hurt, and I’m alive.” Her voice broke.
Survivor guilt. Lachlan knew all too well how that felt. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart. I know you will.”
She shook her head and a tear tracked down her cheek. “It’s tearing me up inside.”
Not caring that his team would give him hell for it later, Lachlan undid her belt and yanked her into his lap. She held herself stiff.
“Let it out, Rowan.”
She shook her head again, a little desperately. “I can’t. I don’t cry. I don’t lose it.”
“You used to cry all the time.”
“Not after you left…I…” Another tear slid down her cheek. “I guess I grew up and got tougher.”
Something slid through his gut. No, she just didn’t have anyone to hold her when she cried anymore. God, her parents had been cold assholes, and he guessed that hadn’t changed.
“I’ve got you, Rowan. Let it out.”
She leaned into him, a sob breaking free. Her hands gripped him. “I’m alive and they’re all dead.” She started crying, not loud and obnoxious, but quiet, her shoulders shaking.
Lachlan pulled her face to his chest and held on tight. She burrowed into him. He rested his chin on the top of her head, wishing he could spare her all of this. He saw his team was all looking away, giving them what privacy they could.
Finally, her crying stopped. When he tipped her face back, her eyes were red and she looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this—”
“Rowan, stop beating yourself up.”
“Your shirt’s a little wet.”
“It’ll dry.” He rubbed a thumb over her damp cheek. “We have a few hours to go. Why don’t you get some rest?”
She made a choked sound. “Like I’ll be able to sleep after all of this.”
Lachlan reluctantly set her back in her seat and watched as she leaned back.
“Lachlan?”
“Yeah?” He met her blue eyes.
“Thank you.” She turned her head to look out the window. It took her three minutes to fall asleep.
He opened an overhead compartment and pulled out a blanket. He gently tucked it around her. Then he stood and moved back to Callie.
“How is she?” Callie asked.
“Hanging in there.” His gaze fell on Lars. “Your patient?”
“Not great.” Callie tucked her dark hair back behind her ear. “I’ve no idea what the artifact did to him, but it looks like his organs are failing.”
Shit. “Okay, keep him comfortable, and keep me updated.”
Again, Lachlan found his gaze drawn back to Rowan. Despite himself, he felt a pull toward her, and a desperate need to keep her safe.
But this mission was almost over, and once they got back, she’d be out of harm’s way and able to go home. Back to her normal life.
His prosthetic hand curled. Another reminder that he wasn’t just a normal guy. Lachlan was well aware of the things he’d done, the things he’d seen, the man he was now. He also knew he’d never, ever risk hurting someone he cared about.
He’d watched his mother live everyday in terror that her husband would snap, and hurt her or Lachlan. Lachlan had lived that nightmare and he’d never inflict it on a woman.
Someone as smart and beautiful as Rowan Schafer should never have to live with that.
Chapter Six
Rowan blinked awake, stretching in her seat. She heard the quiet, deep-voiced murmurs of Team 52, and could feel the aircraft descending. She glanced out the window. Beige desert stretched as far as the eye could see, and the sun was hovering just above the western horizon.
She’d slept for hours, awakened briefly by Lachlan, who’d forced some food and coffee into her before she’d fallen asleep again. Despite the sleep, however, she felt gritty-eyed and disheveled. She’d kill for a hot shower.
Lachlan appeared, sitting beside her. He was dressed all in black now—cargo pants and a black shirt. He didn’t look tired or disheveled.
“You got some rest?” he asked.
She nodded. “How’s Lars?”
“No change.”
She looked out the window again, and spotted a large, white patch on the ground below. “What’s that?”
Lachlan leaned over, his shoulder brushing hers. Again, she felt that disconcerting zing race through her. Of all the times for her hibernating body to decide to come to life.
“Groom Lake salt flat.”
She stiffened. “Wait! Groom Lake… Your base is Area 51?”
He shot her a grin that softened his face. “No. We’re based next door at Area 52, also known as the Tonopah Test Range. It’s a restricted military installation northwest of Area 51.”
“Wow.” Rowan pressed her fingers to her lips. “So, while everyone’s focused on Area 51, you guys are quietly hiding a secret base of powerful ancient artifacts next door?”
“That about covers it.”
Shaking her head, she relaxed back in her seat. Lachlan leaned over and fastened her belt. His fingers brushed her belly and she sucked in a breath. The slightest touch from him seemed to send her body haywire.
Gold-brown eyes flicked up to hers, and she saw that sexy, half-smile again. Axel might have a delicious full-on, mega-watt smile, but it didn’t seem to have the effect on her that Lachlan’s small one did.
“We’re coming in to land,” he said.
The jet-copter landed like a helicopter, swinging in to set down in front of a large hangar.
Blair ducked out of the cockpit. “Welcome home, l
adies.”
There were some good-natured grumbles. Seth followed Blair out with a shake of his head.
Lachlan slid the side door open, and as Rowan unbuckled, she saw Smith and Callie maneuvering Lars’ stretcher off. She stared at Lars’ slack, pale face and her gut cramped.
When she reached the door, Lachlan gripped her waist and lifted her down. Warm, dry desert air hit her in the face. God, it felt so strange after months in the Arctic. It left her feeling weird.
She could see a lot of runways and other hangars in the distance. “This is an Air Force facility?”
“A lot of different agencies conduct work here,” he said. “Everyone operates under an Air Force permit.”
Lachlan pressed a hand to her lower back as they walked inside the large hangar. Blair moved ahead, walking with a loose-limbed stride Rowan wished she could emulate, with Axel sauntering beside her. Seth carried the box Rowan knew held the artifact.
She looked around, spotting a mixture of armed guards in black, and some in Air Force blue-gray camouflage uniforms. They were all standing, alert and focused, as Team 52 moved past.
Inside the hangar, Rowan blinked as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. It looked like a regular aircraft hangar, filled with various planes and helicopters, and maintenance equipment. She was a bit disappointed. She’d expected something…more.
There were more armed airmen standing beside a large industrial elevator. Callie pushed the stretcher into the elevator, and the rest of Team 52 followed. Lachlan nudged Rowan in, and her boots thumped on the black, metal grate floor.
Lachlan touched the controls and the doors closed. The elevator shot down.
Way down.
They descended in silence. Rowan tried to estimate how far underground they were, when the elevator finally slowed. The doors opened and they exited into a huge, cavernous space.
Holy. Hell. Rowan looked around, her mouth dropping open. The black walls absorbed the light, but the place was well lit. To one side, stood huge, double doors that were tightly closed.
“That’s our storage facility,” Lachlan said.
He nudged her toward the left and through a doorway. They entered a corridor lined by glass-walled rooms.
One larger room looked like a rec room, similar to the one they’d had at the research base, except this one was sleeker and better equipped. The kitchenette gleamed, and there were tables and chairs, along with streamlined black couches.
“Welcome to Area 52, Rowan,” Seth said.
She nodded at him, taking in his cool tone. He clearly still wasn’t sure about her.
“Hey, you’re back.” A good-looking man wearing dark-framed glasses strode into the room. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but instead, had on jeans and a tight-black shirt that showed off a muscled chest and tattoos down one arm. His shirt had “Pew Pew” written on it in Star Wars font.
He smiled at Rowan, a lock of brown hair falling over his forehead. “Hi, I’m Brooks. Brooks Jameson.”
“Hi. Rowan.”
“I know.” The man’s smile widened. He had a sexy, hot geek thing going on that worked well for him. “I do comms and intel for the team. I know all.” He fluttered his fingers.
“Where’s Ty?” Lachlan asked.
“In the lab.” Brooks’ face turned serious. “He’s waiting.”
Callie whisked Lars’ stretcher past them and down the corridor. Rowan had to trot to keep up with Lachlan’s long strides. Brooks kept pace right beside them.
“The boss is incoming, too.” Brooks’ eyebrows rose.
“Boss?” Rowan asked.
“The man in charge,” Brooks said. “Jonah Grayson. He’s the man in charge of Area 52.”
She wondered what kind of man was put in charge of an operation like this.
Lachlan led Rowan into a lab. She jerked to a stop and couldn’t help but drool a little. The place was amazing, and filled with all kinds of equipment designed to be a scientist’s wet dream.
“Where is it?” a deep voice demanded.
Rowan turned, her eyes widening as she took in the African-American man bearing down on them, his white lab coat flaring out behind his powerful body.
Wow. His dark hair was cut super short, his face was too rugged for handsome, and he had a sexy goatee. The man had a presence.
“Dr. Ty Sampson, Dr. Rowan Schafer,” Lachlan said. “And we’re fine, thanks for asking. Survived the mission with only minor injuries.”
Ty grunted. “You’re all walking, so I didn’t bother asking.”
“Hello, and welcome to our home away from home.” A woman joined them. Her long, black hair was loose and had a hint of a curl. She wasn’t wearing fatigues. Instead, she wore a long, fitted gray skirt, a pale-pink shirt, and killer heels. She looked like she’d just stepped out of the boardroom, or someone’s librarian fantasy.
“Hey, Nat.” Lachlan murmured.
“Hi,” Rowan said.
“I’m Dr. Natalie Blackwell.” The woman shook Rowan’s hand.
If Rowan wasn’t mistaken, the woman had a soft Australian accent and some Asian heritage.
“I’m the chief archeologist here, while Dr. Grumpy here is our technology guru. He’s also a medical doctor.” She looked at Ty and pulled a face. “Overachiever.”
He bared white teeth.
“Callie needs help with our patient,” Lachlan said.
Ty’s face turned serious. “I’ll be back.”
Seth hefted the containment box on the bench.
“I’m sorry about your ordeal,” Natalie said softly to Rowan.
Grief hit Rowan again, and she managed a nod. “I guess I should be grateful to be alive.”
As Lachlan stepped forward to open the box, they all crowded around. Natalie snapped on some gloves, then reached in and removed the artifact. She set it on a tray on the bench.
“Well, hello there.” Her face lit up and she was clearly completely absorbed.
Rowan watched the archeologist pull out some sort of device and start scanning the artifact.
“I’ve been running the history of Ellesmere Island,” Natalie said. “Trying to see if anything pops on who could have created this artifact.”
“I was telling Lachlan that the ice where we pulled the artifact from was about five thousand years old,” Rowan said. “About when the Pre-Dorset culture lived on the island.”
Natalie nodded. “Five thousand years ago, the temperatures were warmer than they are now.”
Rowan raised a brow. “That’s right. The ice samples we were pulling back up that theory.”
“It would have helped people flourish on the island.”
“But the Pre-Dorset were hunters of sea and land mammals.”
Nat nodded. “They didn’t leave much for us to find. A few settlements and stone tools. It appears they had the bow and arrow, and other tools that made them good hunters.”
Rowan threw her hands in the air. “Nothing suggests they were a super-advanced race of people developing high-tech devices.”
Nat pressed a hip against the bench. “Imagine if this base was destroyed, and thousands of years from now, people sifted through the remains. Imagine they picked apart the wires and chips of a computer. What would they guess it was? Would they be able to deduce what it was capable of?”
Seth grunted. “I’d guess they’d suggest it was ceremonial and used to worship the gods.”
“The Pre-Dorset and their successors, the Dorset, have been shown to have no genetic link to the Thule Inuit who followed them,” Nat said. “They came from somewhere—where we don’t know for sure—and adapted very well to living in extremely cold weather. I couldn’t find much on the Pre-Dorset time period, but the Dorset left a little more behind.”
Rowan frowned. “They were still hunters, and carved soapstone and built simple stone longhouses.”
“Ah, but with some fascinating differences from their pre-cursors. Unlike their Pre-Dorset ancestors and the Inuit who came after them, the Dorset
didn’t hunt land animals, but focused on sea mammals. Large sea mammals, like walrus and narwhal.”
Rowan frowned. “Okay.”
“And it appears that the Dorset didn’t use bow and arrows. Their ancestors did, but the Dorset stopped using them.” Nat smiled. “Yet they hunted large sea mammals comfortably.”
“You’re saying they found other ways to hunt.”
“Most likely. I also found some interesting Inuit legends about the Dorset culture. They called them the Tuniit or Sivullirmiut, the First Inhabitants. They were said to be giants, who were taller and stronger.”
“What?” Rowan breathed.
“Shit,” Lachlan muttered.
“A Canadian poet wrote about the Dorset giants who drove the Vikings back to their longships,” Nat finished.
Rowan sucked in a breath. “Giants?” She turned to look at Lachlan. “The artifact made Lars larger and stronger.”
Lachlan’s face hardened. “Just like a giant.”
Lachlan found Rowan in the kitchen area, nursing a hot chocolate.
“How are you?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “This all feels surreal.” She looked through the glass wall out toward the large doors leading to the warehouse. “I’m in a secret base in Nevada, and just a day ago, I was leading a multidisciplinary team on the Gilman Glacier.” She looked into her drink. “Now they’re all dead.”
Lachlan wanted to hold her again, but held back. He knew that nothing but time would help heal those wounds. “I’m guessing you’d like to contact your parents. Let them know you’re okay.”
She nodded.
“And would a shower help?”
She looked up, her blue eyes lighting. “I’ll bear your firstborn child if you let me have a hot shower.”
Her words made his body lock. First, he imagined exactly what it took to make a child, then he imagined what Rowan would look like with a swollen belly. He cleared his throat, and noticed her cheeks were pink.
“Childbirth isn’t required,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led her down to his quarters. He could have organized some spare quarters elsewhere for her, but for some reason, he wanted her closer. He watched her take in the sparse room. Bunk, cupboard, desk. Nothing fancy, and he hadn’t added anything personal.
