As the plane touched down on the tarmac, Rowan jerked awake. She turned her head and looked out the window.

They were back in Las Vegas.

She stared at the distinctive line of garishly lit casinos. She had the absurd thought that the Team 52 guys had the oddest commute.

“Ready?” Natalie leaned forward in the seat beside Rowan. She was smiling, but looked tense. There had been no update before they’d left the base.

Since the artifact had been stolen and Team 52 had left, the vibe around the base had not been good—and that was putting it mildly. When the plane finished taxiing and stopped, she followed Natalie down the steps and onto the tarmac. She straightened at the sight of Lachlan and Callie standing by a black SUV, wearing civilian clothes.

The change of outfit didn’t soften them a single bit. They still radiated badass vibes.

Rowan’s gaze locked on Lachlan. He looked so good in his faded jeans and, this time, a tight, gray T-shirt. He also looked really unhappy.

“Did you get the artifact?” Rowan asked.

Lachlan’s mouth flattened. “No.”

Her chest tightened. “What?”

“We intercepted the plane just as it landed, but Airman Kowalski got away.”

“How?” Nat asked.

“We found an emergency door open at the back of the plane,” Callie said. “She somehow snuck off.”

“Oh, no.” All Rowan could think about was that the artifact was out there, somewhere. And that someone with very bad intentions wanted to use it.

For a second, she was back at the research base, the horror of the attack shuddering through her. Right at this moment, she better understood the importance of the work Team 52 did.

“The others are out searching,” Lachlan continued. “Smith is a hell of a tracker, and Seth is good at asking questions and finding things.”

Rowan nodded. “So, if the bad guys have the artifact, they won’t be interested in me, right?”

Lachlan straightened. “I’m not taking any risks with your life.”

His deep voice had warmth igniting in her belly. No one had really cared for her before. Her parents had made sure she was fed and educated, but that was about it. She’d bandaged her own skinned knees since she’d started school.

“Okay,” she said.

He leaned down, cupping her jaw. “Likely the focus is off you, but I’m not taking any chances. Now, I need to get back out there with the team. You’re staying with Natalie.”

Rowan looked at the archeologist, who was grinning at them. Callie was pretending to stare off across the runways, but she was smiling too.

Natalie winked. “Looks like I’m your tour guide and bodyguard.”

Rowan raised her eyebrows. “You can fight in those heels?”

The woman’s smile widened. “I can do anything in these heels.”

Lachlan drove them to Natalie’s place, pulling up in front of the MGM Grand Casino.

Rowan swiveled to look at the archeologist. “You live in a casino?”

“Sure do. Twenty-four-hour room service, and someone else does all the cleaning. Besides, if I want some nightlife, it’s right out my front door.” Nat smiled. “There’s an amazing magic show on ice that’s on right now.”

Lachlan led them into a tower that Nat explained was only for residents. They traveled up in the private elevator. The doors opened onto a stylish corridor lined by photographs of the desert. Nat led them into an apartment that was sleekly decorated, but accented with pops of color. There were gorgeous, hardwood floors with plush rugs, and, of course, a killer view. A huge vase of lilies dominated the black dining room table. It all suited Natalie.

Lachlan made them wait in the entry while he quickly cleared the apartment. “Nat, I need to use your secure line to make a call.”

“Sure.” The woman kicked off her heels and waved them into the living area. She grabbed a tablet and handed it to him.

Curious, Rowan watched from the side as Lachlan put a video call through. A moment later, a woman’s beautiful face appeared. Her dark hair was cut in a sleek bob that skimmed her jaw.

“Treasure Hunter Security.”

“I need to talk with Declan Ward,” Lachlan said.

The woman’s blue-gray eyes sharpened. “Who’s calling?”

“An ally. I’m acquainted with Special Agent Burke from the FBI Art Crime Team.”

Now, the woman’s eyes rolled. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Hang on.”

A triangular logo appeared on the screen, but a second later, it blinked off and a man who was clearly a male version of the woman who’d answered appeared.

“Ward,” the man said, his voice deep.

“Ward, my name is Lachlan Hunter.”

Ward stiffened. “Team 52. Recognize your voice.”

Lachlan inclined his head.

The man crossed his arms. “Still pissed at you about Africa.”

“Which mission?”

“Both of them.”

Lachlan smiled. “Then it’s lucky me and my team saved your ass in Antarctica.”

Antarctica? Rowan wondered what the hell a security company specializing in archeological digs was doing in Antarctica.

“Why are you calling me?” Ward demanded.

“I need any intel you have on the Red Wolves.”

Ward grimaced. “Out-of-control bastards with outlandish ideas on how they’re helping the country by committing domestic terrorism. Bunch of conspiracy theorists. The more bizarre the idea, the more likely they’ll believe it.”

Lachlan cursed under his breath.

“You have a run in with them?” Ward asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“We tangled with them on a dig in New Mexico. They were after some artifacts. Not much thought goes into their plans. They’re messy, lack control and training, and their leadership is more concerned with themselves.”

“So they’re unlikely to act behind the scenes, or take a more subtle approach?’

“They wouldn’t know subtle if it stood in front of them and dropped its pants.”

Lachlan nodded. “Thanks, Ward.”

The man heaved out a breath. “Call me Declan.”

“Declan. And thanks.”

With a nod, Declan leaned forward and touched something. The screen went blank.

“So the Red Wolves probably didn’t bribe Airman Kowalski and steal the artifact,” Nat mused.

“I need to go.” Lachlan stood. “I’ll be back when I can.” He touched Rowan’s cheek, then strode away.

She watched him walk to the door, her gaze drifting down to where his jeans hugged his very fine ass. The door closed behind him.

“I’ve never seen Lachlan so…” Nat tapped a nail against her cheek. “Actually, I’ve never seen him with a woman, so I’ve never seen him like this at all.”

“Oh?”

“The man is a workaholic.” Nat detoured to the kitchen. She reached up and pulled out a bottle of red wine, then found some glasses.

“Lachlan was the most important thing in my life when I was ten.” Rowan dropped onto the suede couch. “He listened. Truly listened. And he cared.”

Nat handed her a glass of wine and sat. “He still does. I know he’s been through a lot. Force Recon doesn’t get the air time that the Navy SEALs do, but they’re just as skilled and their missions are just as dangerous.”

“They do similar stuff to the Navy SEALs?”

Nat nodded. “Although they tend to be stealthier about it. Force Recon focuses on intelligence gathering, usually deep into enemy territory. They also specialize in unconventional special operations.”

Rowan felt a lick of discomfort. “What’s that mean?”

“I have no idea, but I know it’s dangerous, and Lachlan was very good at it.”

And while doing it, he’d hardened, and he’d lost his arm. “I can tell.”

“So good that even after he was injured and discharged, Jonah recruited him for Team 52.” Nat leaned back. “Ty gave Lachlan his high-tech arm.”

“And Blair’s eye is a prosthetic.”

Nat nodded. “All the team suffered various injuries that ended their military careers. They have scars—some more visible than others.”

Rowan looked at her wine. “He scares me now. I mean, I know he’d never hurt me physically, but…”

“Emotionally?”

“He wouldn’t mean it, but yes. I can feel he holds himself back.” Rowan lifted her gaze. “I’ve lived with that all my life, my parents are…distant. I want more.”

“He’s different with you,” the archeologist said quietly.

Time to change the subject. “How did you come to join Team 52?”

“I was working at Stanford.” Nat crossed her legs. “I specialized in studying various ancient cultures, but had a focus on megalithic prehistory.” She smiled. “I posted some…controversial theories under a pen name on a blog. I couldn’t have the conservative halls of academia finding out that I had some queries over strange artifacts and sites. I’d seen facts and dates that didn’t match up with the accepted theories and timelines on how civilization on our planet had evolved. Jonah discovered it and made me a job offer. It’s fascinating work.”

“The mysterious Jonah,” Rowan murmured.

“Now there is one gorgeous man…who scares the pants off me,” Nat said. “Thankfully, he’s an excellent boss.”

Suddenly, the sound of smashing glass echoed from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Rowan leaped to her feet, heart pounding. Nat jumped up, set her glass down on the side table, and yanked open a drawer. She pulled out a handgun.

“Stay here.” The archeologist’s face was set in serious lines, and she held the gun with ease.

But she’d only taken two steps when the sound of something rolling made them both freeze. A metal object tumbled across the sleek floor.

Rowan stepped back. Bang.

Piercing noise. Flashes of light.

Bang. Smoke filled the air.

Her ears were ringing and she heard shouting, but it was muffled. Her eyes stung.

Rowan stumbled forward. She couldn’t see Nat, only gray smoke. Then she heard another sound.

God, were those gunshots?

Heart in her throat, Rowan staggered through the smoke, trying to find Nat. Suddenly, hands grabbed her from behind and lifted her off her feet. She kicked out, tears running down her face.

She was spun around violently, coming face-to-face with a big man wearing a red balaclava.

Not good. Rowan fought harder, kicking and trying to get her arms free. The smoke was just starting to clear.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something on the ground. A slim body. Oh, no, it was Nat. She was slumped on the rug, not moving.

“No!” Rowan kicked out, catching the man between the legs. He went down with a groan.

Spinning, she aimed for the door. She had to call Lachlan. Arms grabbed her again, and she found herself tossed up and over someone’s hard shoulder.

“Let me go!” she shouted.

Someone else stepped closer, and a dark cloth bag was pulled over her head, cutting off the light.

“Quiet,” a low voice filled with menace said. “Or I’ll put a bullet in you.”

Rowan bit her lip as she was carried out of Nat’s apartment. Shit.

* * *

Rowan found herself tossed in the back of what she guessed was an SUV. She yanked the bag off her head, and thankfully, no one complained.

Two men, faces hidden by red balaclavas, slid into the front seats. Out the windshield, she saw two other men dressed the same way get into a gunmetal gray sedan in front of them.

She quickly scanned the interior of the vehicle. All the windows were tinted and there were no door handles, no buttons, or handholds of any kind. The engine roared to life, and the two vehicles abruptly pulled out onto the road. Rowan was thrown back against the seat.

God, please let Nat be okay. Rowan’s stomach was rolling and she fought back her panic. Her eyes were still watering, stinging from whatever was in the grenade.

They sped down the busy Strip, the casinos whizzing past. Rowan cautiously ran her hands over the doors, hoping to find some way to open them. Nothing.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Where are we going?”

The men ignored her. Dammit.

Think, Rowan. They get you far away from here, and you’re dead. Then, through the windshield, she spotted two black Suburbans speeding toward them.

It had to be Team 52. And they were about to speed past, with no idea that she was in here.

In about four seconds, Team 52 was going to be gone, and she’d end up somewhere very bad.

She didn’t think, she just knew she had to do something.

Rowan dived through the gap between the front seats and leaped on the driver.

She tried to grab the wheel. She’d surprised the driver enough that he swerved wildly. Curses filled the cab, and ahead, she saw brake lights flash on at the back of the sedan.

She grabbed the man’s balaclava and yanked on it.

More curses filled the air, and they almost rear-ended the sedan. The driver slammed on the brakes, and Rowan gripped on to the man to keep from flying into the windshield.

The man in the passenger seat grabbed at Rowan. She struggled, trying to hit him. Then the driver moved, elbowing her in the head.

Pain exploded through her face and, with a cry, Rowan slumped back in the seat, cradling her left eye. Ow.

“Sit fucking still.” The driver snapped at her, his balaclava askew. His face was surprisingly handsome in a strong-jawed, boy-next-door way.

The passenger swiveled and aimed a gun at her. “Do as he says, or I will shoot you.”

She glared at him. The driver righted himself, muttering more curses. He grabbed the wheel, and the vehicle jerked forward again.

They picked up speed, pulling back into traffic. Then the driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Motherfuckers.”

Rowan spun and her pulse leaped.

Two black SUVs were bearing down on them. Fast.

Rowan decided to strap in and clipped her seatbelt closed. The driver sped up, weaving wildly in and out of traffic. She heard horns honking and saw cars swerve out of their way.

The gray sedan moved alongside them and she watched the men in it signal her driver. Then it fell back, drawing closer to the lead Team 52 SUV.

God, what now? She saw the sedan’s windows lower, and guns were aimed at the black SUVs.

No. Her chest locked. Gunfire cracked through the air, and the SUV dodged. But what they didn’t do was slow down. They were still gaining speed.

Then, she spotted Blair hanging out one window, face composed, returning fire.

That’s when Rowan saw the second black SUV roaring forward. Her eyes widened. It was going to—

It rammed into the back of the sedan. The sound of screeching tires and more honking horns followed the crunch of metal on metal. The sedan veered into the median in the center of the road, and crashed into a palm tree.

“Fuck!” Rowan’s driver bit out.

“Keep going,” the passenger yelled. “Faster.”

Rowan looked back. Blair was still hanging out a window, firing at them.

Suddenly, Rowan’s SUV swerved, and the driver’s curses got damn creative.

“They hit a tire!” the driver yelled.

“Keep going. There’s more traffic ahead. Blend in.”

No. That was a terrible idea.

The driver turned sharply, tires squealing. They sped into the other lane, and Rowan was jerked against her belt.

They roared closer to the cluster of traffic ahead. The driver weaved in and out of cars and trucks. Vehicles swerved, and more horns honked.

Oh, God. They were going to crash.

Team 52 was right behind them and suddenly, the crumpled silver sedan rejoined the chase.

It sped recklessly toward one black SUV, with Blair still firing from the side. But as it drew alongside, Blair ducked back inside, and the SUV jerked toward the car.

It rammed into the side of the sedan. The car veered off the road. It bumped over a curb, and crashed into the driveway of the casino before smashing into a fountain. Water sprayed everywhere.

“Yes!” Rowan grinned.

The passenger swiveled and shot her a dirty look. She glared back.

“Shit,” the driver said.

Rowan looked up and saw a slow-moving RV right in front of them. The driver jerked the wheel to avoid it.

It swung them right up alongside one of the Team 52 SUVs.

Rowan saw Blair in the passenger seat, and Lachlan at the wheel.

She pressed her lips together. They’d come for her again. He’d come for her.

The other SUV pulled in close behind them.

Suddenly, the traffic cleared. Lachlan’s vehicle roared forward and then swung in front of them.

The SUV’s taillights flashed on.

Oh, shit. She braced herself, and heard the driver swear. They rear-ended the black SUV with a crunch of metal and breaking glass.

Rowan was tossed hard against her belt.

The man in the passenger seat wasn’t strapped in. He sailed through the windshield. The driver’s air bag went off with a bang. She heard him groaning.

Rowan’s ears were ringing again, and she shook her head a little to try and clear it.

Suddenly, the doors were yanked open. She watched the airbag deflate, and the driver was pulled out of the vehicle.

Her door opened, and she blinked up at Lachlan. He reached in, unlatching her belt.

“Okay?” His face was set in hard lines, those gold eyes extremely pissed off.

She nodded as he helped her out. As soon as she was vertical, her knees gave way. Lachlan scooped her into his arms, and she held onto him.

“You’re not okay,” he muttered.

She slid her arm along his shoulders. “I am now.” Then she passed out.