Page 50 of Striker
Ah, hell. He’d just let his emotions get the best of him. He might as well have put a bull’s-eye on his forehead.
Rogue’s brows lifted with interest. “Never thought I’d see the day when the single stallion would fall for a chick.”
Single stallion. That’d never been his nickname, but maybe that’s how they thought of him. “Don’t act like you had many girlfriends while you pined for Laine for six years.”
“Pined for her for more than that,” Rogue quipped, unabashed.
“Leave Striker be,” Viper interjected. “The more he gets laid, the less grumpy he’ll be.”
Atlas shook his head and managed not to roll his eyes. If they didn’t refocus on work, they’d grill each other for hours. “Did you get any intel on Damian’s phone?”
Havoc nodded. “Yup, we got through the password protection and read his texts. He was messaging someone while Molly was being attacked. Said his friend Shane was inside her place and would be done any minute.”
“Did you trace the number?”
Havoc’s mouth twisted. “Whoever he texted—presumably Rex—was using an encrypted line.”
Fuck.
“Doesn’t really matter,” Havoc continued. “We know where the asshole is and we’ll have him caught tonight.”
Atlas hoped to hell he was right. “Did we get a visual on the warehouse?”
“Yep,” said Reaper, who’d been mostly quiet. He sat on the couch, a laptop on the coffee table in front of him. “I tracked down blueprints of the space. It’s three stories, eight thousand square feet. Loading dock in the back and an underground parking garage.”
“That’s why we didn’t spot his vehicle when we drove through the industrial district last night,” Havoc said.
Atlas moved to the sofa and sat next to his friend. He studied the two-dimensional floor plan. The plumbing, electrical, and ventilation systems were all noted as well. “This is great, but where’s his office?”
“Harry said he’s on the top floor, southeast corner,” Reaper said.
Atlas leaned forward and pointed to the far right of the screen. “Must be right here then. Looks like his office window faces the alley. Where’s Harry now?”
Reaper grunted. “Home. He said he’s going back there this evening.”
“We should wait until he’s there,” Havoc said. “He can be our eyes on the inside.”
Trepidation ripped through Atlas. He didn’t want to wait five minutes, let alone several hours. He looked at Rogue, whose face was pulled into a frown. “We said we’d go ASAP.”
Rogue crossed his arms. “That’d be ideal, but if we know Harry will be there soon, then we should wait a bit. That place is huge and probably crawling with armed guards. If we can take out some of the guesswork, we should.”
Atlas glanced at his watch.
“One of us will stake out the warehouse,” Rogue said. “That way, we can keep an eye on all comings and goings. Who volunteers?”
Reaper raised his hand.
Rogue nodded. “Good. Suit up.”
Reaper stood, tucked his phone in his pocket, and moved for the door.
Atlas scooted into the seat he’d vacated. While he’d have preferred to leave now too, he also knew he’d be sitting in a car twiddling his thumbs until it was go time.
At least this way he could hang with Molly before he needed to take off.
Molly rolled onto her stomach on the fluffy bed. She’d just ended a call with her mom and dad, and her heart felt lighter, even though it hadn’t been an easy conversation.
She’d been so removed from normal life that it was hard to remember people were worried and waiting to hear from her. Her parents’ questions about what’d happened were insistent. She’d had to share a few details about how she’d been treated—which had resulted in colorful language from her father.
