God. She stroked the ushabti reverently, its gold surface glowing in the lantern-light. Her parents would have loved to have seen this. To know their daughter had been the one to find it.
The necklace was still in pieces, but back in their lab in Cairo, someone would piece it back together. The chunky golden scarab would fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. She carefully lifted the small, dog-like amulet. It was slightly smaller than the scarab, and the canine had a slender body like a greyhound, and a long, stiff tail that was forked at the end. She was sure this was a set-animal, the symbol of the Egyptian god, Seth. She stroked the hieroglyphs on the animal’s body and the symbols that spelled Zerzura.
Unfortunately, none of the hieroglyphs here made sense. She’d spent hours working on them. They were gibberish.
There was a noise behind her. A scrape of a boot in sand.
She turned, wondering who else had stayed behind.
A fist collided with her face in a vicious blow.
Pain exploded through Layne’s cheek and she tasted blood. The blow sent her sprawling into the sand, the set-animal carving falling from her fingers.
Layne couldn’t seem to focus. She lay there, her cheek to the sand, trying to clear her head. Her face throbbed and she heard voices talking in Arabic.
A black boot appeared in her line of sight.
A hand reached down and picked up the set-animal.
She swallowed, trying to get her brain working. Then she heard another voice. Deep, cool tones with a clipped British accent that made her blood run cold.
“Move it. I want it done. Fast.”
She saw more people come into view. They were all wearing black balaclavas.
They started grabbing the artifacts and stuffing them into canvas bags.
“No.” In her head her cry came out loud and outraged. In reality, it was a hoarse whisper.
“Bag everything,” the cold voice behind her said.
No. She wasn’t letting these thieves steal the artifacts. This was her dig and these were her antiquities to safeguard.
She pushed up onto her hands and knees. “Stop.” She swung around and kicked at the knee of the man closest to her.
He tipped sideways with a cry.
“Uh-uh.” The man with the cold voice stepped into her view. All she saw were his shiny black boots. Before she could do anything else, a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.
The pain made her grit her teeth. Tears stung her eyes. She twisted, trying to pull away from him.
“A spitfire. I do like a feisty woman. Shame I don’t have time to play with you.”
He was behind her and she couldn’t see his face. She tried to jerk away but a hard fist slammed into her head again.
No, no, no. Her vision dimmed, the sound of the thieves’ voices receded.
Everything went black.
* * *
Declan Ward strode into the warehouse, his boots echoing on the scarred concrete. Colorado sunlight streamed through the large windows which offered a fantastic view of downtown Denver.
He was gritty-eyed from lack of sleep, and he was still adjusting to being back on Mountain Time.
He’d gotten in from finishing a job in South East Asia sometime around midnight. He’d unlocked his apartment, stumbled in and stripped, and fallen facedown on his bed.
Now, he was headed to work.
Lucky for him, it paid to be one of the owners. He lived above the warehouse that housed the main offices of Treasure Hunter Security.
Most of the open-plan space that had been a flour mill in a previous life was empty. But at the far end it was a different story.
Flat screens covered the brick wall, all displaying different images and scrolling feeds. Some sleek desks were set up, all covered in high-end computers.
There was a small kitchenette tucked into one corner, and next to that sat some sagging couches that looked like they’d come from a charity shop or some college student’s house. Just beyond those, near the large windows, were a pool table and an air hockey table.
“Dec? What are you doing here?”
A small, dark-haired woman popped up from her seat at one of the computers. As always, she was dressed stylishly in dark jeans, a soft red sweater the color of raspberries, and impossibly high heels.
“I work here,” he said. “Actually, I own the place. Have the mortgage to prove it.”
His sister came right up to him and threw her arms around him. He did the same and absorbed the non-stop energy that Darcy always seemed to emit. She’d never been able to sit still, even as a little girl.
“You just got back. You’re supposed to have a week off.” She patted his arms and frowned. She had the same gray eyes he did, but hers always seemed to look bluer than his.
“Finished the job, ready for the next one.”
Her frown deepened, her hands landing on her hips. “You work too hard.”
“Darce, I’m tired, and not really up for this rant this morning.” She had this spiel down to a fine art.
She huffed out a breath. “Okay. But I’m not done. Expect an earful later.”
Great. He tweaked her nose. He’d done it ever since she was a cute little girl in pigtails and dirt-stained clothes tagging around after him and their brother Callum. Dec knew she hated it.
“Hey, Dec. When did you get back?”
Dec clasped hands with one of his team. Hale Carter was a big man, topping Dec’s six-foot-two by a couple of inches. He’d been a hell of a soldier, was a bit of a genius with anything mechanical, and a guy who managed to smile through it all. He had a wide smile and dark skin courtesy of his African American mother, and a handsome face that drew the ladies like flies.
But Dec knew the man had secrets too, dark ones. Hell, they all did. They’d all been to some terrible places with the SEAL teams. All had seen and done some things that left scars—both physical and mental.
Dec never pried. He offered jobs to the former soldiers who wanted to work—ones where they normally wouldn’t get shot at while doing them—and he didn’t ask them to reveal all their demons.
Some demons could never be vanquished. He felt his gut tighten. Dec had accepted that long ago.
“Got in last night. Nice to be home.” But even as he said the words, Dec knew it wasn’t true. He was already feeling the itch to be out, moving, doing something.
It had been two and a half years since he’d left the Navy and stopped heading into the world’s worst war zones. Hell, he didn’t leave—they’d booted him out. He’d just barely avoided a dishonorable discharge, but they’d wanted him gone anyway, and he didn’t blame them.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. In those two and a half years, he’d put together Treasure Hunter Security with his brother and sister, and he’d never looked back. Or at least, he tried not to.
Hale was one of their newest recruits and had fit right in.
Dec made his way to the kitchenette and poured a cup of coffee from the pot. Darcy would have made it, which meant it was barely drinkable, but it was black and strong and had caffeine, so it ticked the boxes.
He saw his best friend slouched on one of the couches, his boots on the scarred coffee table and his long legs cased in well-worn jeans. He was flicking a switchblade open and closed.
“Logan.”
“Dec.”
Logan O’Connor was another SEAL buddy, and the best friend Dec had ever had. They hadn’t liked each other at first, but after a particularly brutal mission—followed by an equally brutal bar fight in the seedy backstreets of Bangkok where they had saved each other’s backs—they’d formed a bond.
Logan was big as well, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt showing off his muscled arms and tattoos. From the day they’d left the military, Logan had let his brown hair grow long and shaggy, and his cheeks were covered in scruff. He looked exactly how he was—dangerous and just a little wild.
His friend eyed Dec up and down, then raised a brow
. “How was the job?”
“The usual.”
Actually, the jobs were never the same, and you were never sure what was going to happen. Providing security to archeological digs, retrieving stolen artifacts, occasionally turning some bad guys over to the authorities, doing museum security, or running remote expeditions for crazy treasure hunters…it kept things interesting.
“Anyone shoot at you?”
The female voice came from over by the computers. Morgan Kincaid sat cross-legged on top of a table. She was one of the few females to pass the rigorous BUD/S training for the Navy SEALs. But when the Navy had refused to let her serve on the teams, she’d left.
The Navy’s loss was Dec’s gain. Morgan was tough, mean, and hell in a firefight. She was tall, kept her dark hair short, and had a scar down the left side of her face from a knife fight.
“Not this trip,” Dec answered.
“Too bad,” Morgan murmured.
“All right everyone, listen up.” Darcy’s voice echoed in the warehouse.
They all headed over to where Darcy stood in front of her screens. Logan and Hale dropped into chairs, Morgan stayed sitting on top of the table, and Dec pressed a hip to a desk and sipped his coffee.
“Where’s Cal?” he asked.
“He flew out a few days ago on another job. An anthropologist got snatched by a local tribe in Brazil.”
“Hate the jungle,” Logan said, his voice a growl.
“And Ronin?” Dec asked.
Ronin Cooper was another full-time Treasure Hunter Security employee. Dec kept a small full-time team and hired on trusted contractors when he needed more muscle.
“Coop’s in northern Canada on an expedition.”
Dec raised his brows, trying to imagine Ronin in the snow.
Hale hooted with laughter. “Shit, not too many shadows to hide in when you’re in the snow.”
Dec sipped his coffee again. Ronin Cooper was good at blending into the shadows. You didn’t see him coming unless he wanted you to. Another former SEAL, Ronin had gotten out earlier than Dec, and had done some work for the CIA. Lean and intense, Ronin was the scary danger no one saw coming.
Dec settled back against the desk. “What’s this new job?”
“An archeological dig in Egypt got attacked yesterday.” Darcy pointed a small remote at her screens. A map of Egypt appeared with a red dot out in the Western Desert. “It’s being run by the Rhodes University out of Massachusetts.”
Dec raised a brow. Rhodes had a hell of an archeological department. They had their fingers in digs all over the world and prided themselves on some of the biggest finds in recent times. Every kid with dreams of being the next Indiana Jones wanted to study at Rhodes.
“The dig is excavating a newly-discovered tomb and surrounding necropolis,” Darcy continued. “They’d recently found some artifacts.” She pointed again and some images of artifacts appeared. “All gold.”
Hale whistled. “Nice.”
Dec’s muscles tensed. He knew what was coming.
“And now the artifacts are gone.” Darcy leaned back on the desk. “The head of the dig was working on the artifacts at the time and was attacked. She survived. And now, we’re hired. One, to ensure no more artifacts are stolen, two to ensure the safety of the dig’s workers, and three—” Darcy’s blue-gray gaze met Dec’s “—to recover the stolen artifacts.”
Dec felt a muscle tick in his jaw. “It’s Anders.”
“Ah, hell.” Logan tipped his head back. “This is not good.”
Hale was frowning. “Who’s Anders?”
“Dec has a hard-on for the guy,” Morgan muttered.
Dec ignored Logan and Morgan. “Ian Anders. A former British Special Air Service soldier.”
Hale’s frown deepened. “Heard those SAS guys are hard-core.”
“They are,” Dec confirmed.
Darcy stepped forward. “Declan and Logan’s SEAL team was working a joint mission with Anders’ team in the Middle East.”
“Caught the sadistic fucker torturing locals.” Even now, the screams and moans of those people came back to Dec. A nightmare he couldn’t seem to outrun. “He kept them hidden, visited them every few days. Men, women…children.” Dec let out a breath. “No idea how long he’d had them there.”
“You saved them?” Hale said.
“No.” Dec stood and took his mug to the sink. He tipped the coffee he could no longer stomach down the drain.
“You did the right thing, Dec,” Logan growled.
Silence fell. Dec was not going to talk about this.
Darcy cleared her throat. “The British Military gave Anders a slap on the wrist.”
“Shit,” Hale said. “So what’s he got to do with stolen artifacts?”
“When he left the SAS, he got into black-market antiquities,” Declan said. “We’ve run into him a few times on jobs.”
“The guy is whacked,” Logan added. “He likes to hurt and kill. And he likes the pretty cash he gets for selling artifacts.”
“And you think this is his work?” Hale looked at the screens.
Dec had learned to trust his gut. Sometimes despite the facts or evidence, despite the fact you had nothing else to go on. “Yeah, it’s Anders.”
“Logan, Morgan, and Hale, this is your assignment,” Darcy said. “You’ll head to Egypt to meet Dr. Layne Rush.”
Another screen filled with a photo of a woman.
Dec blinked, feeling his belly clench, even though he’d never seen this woman before.
He wasn’t even sure what warranted the gut-deep response. She was attractive, but not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. In the photo, she had sunglasses pushed up on her dark hair. Her hair was chocolate brown and straight as a ruler. It brushed her shoulders, except for the bangs cut bluntly just across her eyes. Her skin was so incredibly clear, not a blemish on it, and her eyes were hazel.
She had smart stamped all over her. Hell. Dec had a thing for smart women.
But he usually steered well clear. He wasn’t made for hearts and rainbows. He’d just seen too much and done too much. His relationships generally lasted one night, and he enjoyed women who wanted the same as him—uncomplicated, no-strings sex.
“I’m going.” Dec’s voice echoed in the warehouse.
Darcy’s beautiful face got a pinched look. “Declan—”
“No arguments, Darce. I’m going.”
“You’re going because of Anders,” she said.
Dec glanced at the photo of Dr. Rush. “I’m going to pack.”
His sister sighed and looked at Dec. “You’re sure you won’t change your mind.”
“Nope.”
Another sigh. “The jet’s fueled and waiting. Logan, please keep him out of trouble.”
Logan snorted. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
Darcy shook her head. “All of you, have a good trip…and stay safe. Please.”
Dec smiled, trying to break the tension. “You know me.”
A resigned look crossed her face. “Yes. Unfortunately, I do. So when the trouble hits, call me.”
Treasure Hunter Security
Undiscovered
Uncharted
Unexplored
Unfathomed
Untraveled
Unmapped
Unidentified
Undetected
Also Available as Audiobooks!
Preview - Hell Squad: Marcus
In the aftermath of a deadly alien invasion, a band of survivors fights on…
In a world gone to hell, Elle Milton—once the darling of the Sydney social scene—has carved a role for herself as the communications officer for the toughest commando team fighting for humanity’s survival—Hell Squad. It’s her chance to make a difference and make up for horrible past mistakes…despite the fact that its battle-hardened commander never wanted her on his team.
When Hell Squad is tasked with destroying a strategic alien facility, Elle knows they need her skills i
n the field. But first she must go head to head with Marcus Steele and convince him she won’t be a liability.
Marcus Steele is a warrior through and through. He fights to protect the innocent and give the human race a chance to survive. And that includes the beautiful, gutsy Elle who twists him up inside with a single look. The last thing he wants is to take her into a warzone, but soon they are thrown together battling both the alien invaders and their overwhelming attraction. And Marcus will learn just how much he’ll sacrifice to keep her safe.
Hell Squad
Marcus
Cruz
Gabe
Reed
Roth
Noah
Shaw
Holmes
Niko
Finn
Theron
Hemi
Ash
Levi
Manu
Griff
Dom
Also Available as Audiobooks!
Also by Anna Hackett
Team 52
Mission: Her Protection
Mission: Her Rescue
Mission: Her Security
Mission: Her Defense
Mission: Her Safety
Also Available as Audiobooks!
Treasure Hunter Security
Undiscovered
Uncharted
Unexplored
Unfathomed
Untraveled
Unmapped
Unidentified
Undetected
Also Available as Audiobooks!
Eon Warriors
Edge of Eon
Touch of Eon
Heart of Eon
Kiss of Eon
Also Available as Audiobooks!
Galactic Gladiators: House of Rone
Sentinel
Defender
Centurion
Also Available as Audiobooks!
Galactic Gladiators
Gladiator
Warrior
Hero
Protector
Champion
Barbarian
Beast
Rogue
Guardian
Cyborg
Imperator
Mission: Her Freedom: Team 52 #6 Page 18