Team 52 Box Set: Books 1-3

by Anna Hackett

  Asshole. She glared at him. “I might not be a badass commando or former 007 who can kill with his little finger, but I’m hardly a fainting damsel, Lynch. I gave you a black eye, didn’t I?”

  Seth scowled at her and touched his ear. “Brooks? Yeah.” Seth looked at his boots and cursed. “Acknowledged.”

  “What now?” she asked.

  Ice-blue eyes slid up to meet hers. “There are too many of these fuckers.” He toed the soldiers. “We’re cut off from my team.”

  January swallowed. “Okay. So what do we do now?”

  “Now we need a Plan B.”

  “Have you got one?”

  “Not yet.”

  As Seth jogged through the jungle, he heard the distant gunfire, followed by an explosion. He gritted his teeth, worried briefly about his team. But if anyone could handle themselves, it was Team 52.

  January ducked under some vines. She was holding up. Even caked in mud and clearly exhausted, she was staying steady.

  His admiration for her went up another notch.

  “We need to get away from here,” he said. “Find somewhere to lay low until it’s safe to get picked up by the team later.” They couldn’t trek to Blair and the X8, because that was on the other side of the wreck site.

  January bit her lip, lost in thought. “Do you know where we are?”

  He lifted his chin and told her.

  She snapped her fingers. “I know. We have a satellite dig site not too far away from here. I mean, we’ll have to trek through dense jungle…”

  He nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  “It’s east of here.”

  Seth touched his ear. “Brooks. January and I are headed for a satellite dig site called…” He looked at January.

  “Site Z. It’s run by a colleague of mine, Dr. Andelman.”

  Seth repeated the information.

  “Got it, Seth,” came Brooks’ reply. “I’ll have—”

  The harsh screech of static filled the line. Seth winced. “Brooks? Brooks?” Shit. “Lachlan?”

  There was only silence.

  “What?” January looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “Our comms are being jammed.”

  She pressed her lips together and looked worried. Seth was worried too.

  Drug runners wouldn’t have the tech to jam their comms. The last pair who’d attacked them had fought well—they were better trained than the average drug runner.

  Seth’s instincts were twitching. Hard. Those instincts had saved his life too many times in the CIA. More times than he could count.

  She grabbed the straps of her backpack and set off. “Come on.”

  “Hey, let me lead.”

  She glanced at him. “Why?”

  “Because I have the gun.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a good enough reason for you to lead.”

  Seth pulled in a breath and looked up at the dappled light filtering through the trees. “Do you have to argue about everything?”

  She considered for a second. “Yes.”

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Why me?”

  “If you move your ass, Lynch, and quit bitching, we’ll get out of here faster.”

  Seth took a moment to contemplate strangling her. Or tanning her ass.

  They kept moving and he kept trying the comms. Nothing.

  He turned to face January. “Okay, let’s—”

  The next attack was blindingly fast.

  Several bodies rushed out of the vegetation and slammed into Seth, driving him to the ground. He heard January scream.

  Fuck. He rolled and got a punch to the sternum. He got his feet under him, shoving back at the weight holding him. A blow slammed into his kidneys and he bit off a groan.

  But he’d been well-trained by the CIA. He knew how to fight dirty.

  He rammed an elbow up, took another hit to the stomach, then broke free and rolled across the vegetation. He yanked his knife off his belt, spun, and jammed the blade into the belly of the incoming attacker. The man screamed and staggered back.

  Seth scanned the area and saw January being held against a tree. The bastard pinning her had his hands clamped around her neck. Her face was turning red, but the hellcat was fighting—twisting and kicking wildly.

  Seth lowered into a fighting stance, his gaze going to the other attacker circling him. These guys were good. Too good. They might be dressed like drug runners, but they were not drug runners.

  Feinting, Seth moved left. His opponent fell for it and moved. Seth adjusted course, slamming a kick into the man’s knee. He went down, and Seth sank his blade into the man’s shoulder—deep.

  Another kick sent the man onto his back. He clutched his bleeding shoulder and glared at Seth. Seth brought his boot down and the man slumped.

  Moving fast, Seth spun and ran to January. He could see her kicks were turning sluggish and uncoordinated. The man choking her was tugging at the straps of her backpack.

  Seth came up behind the man, moving silently. He circled his gloved hands around the man’s throat.

  Startled, the attacker released January, and Seth quickly cut off the man’s air supply. January dropped to the ground, coughing and rubbing her abused throat.

  “How’s it feel?” Seth asked. “Suffering the same thing you were just inflicting on a woman half your size?”

  The man made a gurgling sound and Seth eased up. “Who do you work for?”

  No answer.

  Seth asked in Spanish. “Who sent you?”

  Still nothing.

  Cool flowed through Seth’s veins. He kicked the man’s legs out from under him and he dropped to his knees with a choked cry. Seth wrapped an arm around the man’s neck and pulled up hard, denying him air again.

  The man thumped a fist futilely against Seth’s left forearm.

  “Answer my question,” Seth said, his tone low.

  January rose, watching Seth with an unreadable face. Okay, not that unreadable. She was watching him like she’d just discovered a snake that might strike.

  “Last chance.” Seth jerked hard on the man’s neck.

  This time, the attacker made a sound and patted Seth’s arm.

  Seth eased up a little

  “Gaia,” the man croaked.

  Seth frowned. He’d never heard of a criminal group called Gaia.

  All of a sudden, a roar thundered overhead. Shit, helicopter.

  He looked up, and through the canopy, he caught glimpses of the aircraft circling overhead. For a second, he thought it was the X8.

  No. His muscles locked. Not the X8, a Black Hawk.

  Shit. Not one of theirs. He released the man and punched him. Then Seth reached out and grabbed January’s hand.

  “We need to go.”

  “I take it that helicopter isn’t your team?”

  “Correct.”

  He yanked her forward, knocking some vines out of their way.

  Suddenly, machine gun fire tore through the trees from above. January screamed.

  Seth dived, taking her with him. They rolled, and he covered her as they came up against the trunk of a tree.

  Dammit, the helo was armed with a minigun. They could pepper the jungle with thousands of rounds per minute. His CXM was no match for it.

  The gunfire stopped.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” January clutched his vest.

  He pulled her up.

  “Move that pretty ass, James. Now.”

  Chapter Four

  January ran through the jungle, her lungs burning. Seth’s broad back was right in front of her, and the man barely seemed winded.

  A branch hit her shoulder, scratching her skin, but she didn’t slow down. She hadn’t uttered any complaints about the brutal pace that Seth had set for them.

  She had no desire to become machine-gun fodder.

  But every muscle in her body ached. She was drenched in sweat, and hungry, and her neck stung. She was pretty damn miserable.

  But she was breathing.

&
nbsp; Ahead, Seth glanced back at her. The man powered through the vegetation, not slowing or flagging one bit. She hated him more than usual right now.

  “We’ll take a break.” He halted.

  January staggered to a stop. She could have wept from relief. “I can keep going.”

  “We both need a rest.”

  “But I can—”

  He scowled. “Do you argue about everything?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “When it comes to me living or dying, then yes.”

  “Figures.”

  If he wanted to rest, fine. She moved to a fallen log and dropped onto it. She sucked air into her burning lungs.

  “We far enough away from the unfriendlies?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I don’t hear the helo anymore.”

  He sat beside her and opened his backpack. He handed her another granola bar, and she tore it open. She wolfed the snack down in three bites. He smiled at her, seemingly amused, and handed her a water bottle.

  Darn, the man had a hell of a smile.

  January sipped the water. “You got a three-course meal in there, as well?”

  “Sorry.” He handed her a candy bar.

  She moaned. She tore it open in a blink, and took a bite. She closed her eyes, savoring the rich, chocolatey flavor. When she opened her eyes, Seth was watching her, with a funny expression.

  God, he might annoy her, but she was damn glad he’d come for her.

  Suddenly, the impact of everything hit her, all at once. She started to shake. She’d almost died—multiple times. She’d survived the plane crash, the jungle, bad guys after them, the helicopter firing at them.

  A firm hand gripped the back of her neck. “Deep breath, James.”

  She pulled in a ragged one. Tears pricked her eyes.

  Dammit. She never cried. She’d done a lifetime of crying in her teens, and vowed to avoid it as a grown woman.

  Seth moved closer and slid an arm across her shoulders.

  “We’re okay. You’re holding up like a trooper.”

  She gave a hiccupping laugh. “God, do not be nice to me, Lynch.” Or she’d fall apart.

  He smiled again. It pulled at his scars, which did nothing to detract from the sexiness. January had never liked perfection, anyway.

  “I mean it,” she said. “I’m two breaths away from a massive meltdown. Don’t be nice, or you’ll regret it.”

  “Fine. Even though you’ve survived some really bad circumstances, and have a fucking core of steel in your spine, you’re still a harpy.”

  The tension inside her eased a little. “And you’re a prick.”

  His face turned smug. “Well, I do have a big one.”

  She groaned. “An arrogant prick, too.” She gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

  He lifted his chin.

  Then she froze. Not all the muck on his skin was mud. Some of it was red.

  “You’re bleeding.” She scrambled to face him. “I can see blood on the side of your neck.”

  “Got nicked by a knife earlier.”

  “Oh, my God. Why didn’t you say anything? We need to stop the bleeding.”

  “James—”

  She grabbed his backpack. “Infection is a real risk here in the jungle.” She tugged the pack toward her.

  He pulled it back toward him. “James—”

  She shook her head. “Take your shirt, or armor, or vest, or whatever you call it, off.”

  She gave another hard tug, knowing she sounded slightly hysterical, but she didn’t want Seth to die and leave her alone.

  She caught his eye. “Please.”

  He stared at her, eyes glittering, then he nodded.

  She rummaged through his pack. “You have a first aid kit in here, right?”

  “Right.” He sounded resigned.

  She found the small, red kit and yanked it out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him set his armored vest down beside the log. When she had some antiseptic wipes in hand, she lifted her head. He was pulling his black T-shirt over his head.

  She froze. Sweet Jesus.

  He had a perfectly sculpted chest. Not bulky, more like a swimmer’s body. He was beautiful.

  There were more scars on his right side, mostly covered by the black ink of a tattoo. They’d been done with a knife, she realized. Again, they enhanced his attractiveness, they didn’t detract.

  They all had scars, which showed they’d lived, survived, conquered. She had her own. They just weren’t as visible.

  The tattoo was some sort of bird of prey. It perched on his shoulder and bicep, its outstretched wings covering his hard pec and probably part of his back. It suited him.

  January cleared her throat and shifted closer. The cut was where his neck met his shoulder.

  She swiped at it, cleaning off the mud and blood. She tossed a dirty wipe down into his backpack and grabbed another one. Then she fished around in the kit until she found a bandage.

  “You’re lucky it wasn’t deep,” she said.

  She pressed the bandage against his skin. He was so warm under her fingers. Like he burned hotter than a mere mortal.

  She smoothed her hand over the taut flesh of his shoulder. Then she did it again. He felt so good. She sucked in a breath. She was just starved for human contact, that was all. This was Seth Lynch, of all people.

  He made a raw sound and her head jerked around. Their faces were only an inch apart. The air rushed out of her.

  His blue eyes were blazing with something…heat. Desire.

  God. God.

  January’s brain turned off. She turned her head the last inch, and her lips brushed his.

  He groaned.

  “You tell anyone I kissed you, I’ll say you’re lying,” she said.

  “Shut up, James.” He leaned forward.

  “You’d better be a good kisser, Lynch—”

  His lips cut her off, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Oh, yeah.

  She kissed him back, craving him, the kiss hard and desperate. His mouth. God, his mouth.

  He groaned against her lips and his tongue stroked hers. He was beyond a good kisser, and heat shot straight through January. His arms locked around her, the kiss turning almost punishing.

  All-consuming.

  It was the distant boom of an explosion that made them both jolt and pull apart. January sucked some air into her burning lungs.

  “Grenade,” he said. “It’s a long way off, but we should keep moving.”

  She nodded. “Ah…yes.”

  She cleared her throat as he rose. Then she gripped his hand, sorry to lose the crazy, intimate moment.

  “Seth, I didn’t say it earlier, but thanks for the rescue. Thanks for coming for me.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “You’re welcome, James.”

  They’d made good distance, but Seth could see that January was clearly exhausted. Yet she hadn’t voiced a single complaint.

  “Tell me about this dig site?” he asked, partly to take her mind off their punishing pace.

  “Another Snake King site. It’s a crumbling pyramid. Josh—Dr. Andelman—has a small team, and they’re working out if we’re going to need a larger team to excavate the ruins. The rest of my team are at another, larger, site to the south. Where I flew out from.”

  “And you found all these sites from scans?”

  She nodded, her face lighting up. “Lidar scans. Advanced laser scanning. We uncovered previously unknown Mayan structures. Thousands of them. Buildings, defensive structures, farms, irrigation systems, pyramids. All hidden by dense jungle.”

  “Incredible.”

  January paused, her voice lowering. “The archeologist in charge of the scanning was on the plane.”

  Shit. “Sorry to hear that.”

  She nodded, then lifted her chin. “We know so little about the Snake King Dynasty. It’s only been during the last few decades that archeologists started piecing together information about them. Forty years ago, they were just a rumor. Twent
y years ago, they were believed to be unimportant local kings. Now we are discovering that for a time, they ruled the most powerful Mayan kingdom ever. It started when their emblem, the grinning snake, was first noted at various sites. Then, a few years back, a magnificent, well-preserved frieze in a pyramid at the site of Holmul was discovered. It showed amazing images of the Holmul king, and there were lots of glyphs, including the Snake King glyph.”

  “Why are they so special?”

  “They came out of nowhere. Their center of power was at a site called Calakmul in Mexico. But there was no record of them in earlier times. The first snake glyph appeared at another site called Dzibanché. Here in Guatemala, lots of work has been done at Tikal, and we know that the Tikal kings dominated the Maya lowlands. Tikal is covered in exquisitely carved stelae documenting their history…except for a strange gap from about 560 AD to 690 AD. There were no stelae created during that period. Turns out, that was when the Snake Kings invaded and took over Tikal, intent on building their own empire. That ambition appears to have started with the Snake King called Stone Hand Jaguar.”

  “Cool name.” Seth held some vines aside for her to pass through.

  “The Snake Kings were obscured for so long, and we’re only just now realizing how powerful they were. They had advanced cities and agriculture. For several generations, they flourished. It was Stone Hand Jaguar who saw that Tikal was vulnerable. He spent years gaining allies at various sites surrounding Tikal. Unfortunately, he died before he could make the final move, so it fell to his successor, Sky Witness—who was likely his son—to make the final move.”

  “They knew how to name their kings.”

  She smiled. “Sky Witness was said to be big and powerful, and a great warrior.” Her nose wrinkled. “Sometimes these kings get exaggerated in stories, but a team discovered his tomb at Dzibanché. He was tall and strong, and had lots of scars from old battle injuries.”

  “I know all about that.”

  She paused. “I guess you do.”

  “So, the Snake Kings wanted war.”

  “Not exactly. The Mayan empire was made up of lots of city states, each with their own king. The Snake Kings envisioned an empire with themselves as King of Kings. It was unique for the time. The Mayans were happy with the way they had things.”