Page 76 of Striker
Wraith nodded. “Got your six.”
“Test,” Reaper said, and everyone checked their earpiece.
Rogue moved forward to a break in the trees, his fist held up at a ninety-degree angle. The pool sat fifty yards away. A three-foot high cement wall circled the perimeter of the backyard, boxing in the pool and lounge area.
Rex stood. He wore red swim shorts, and a cigar dangled out of his mouth. Kat stretched out naked on a lounger.
“Move,” Rogue commanded.
They rushed forward. Atlas kept his gun trained ahead, one eye watching the east side of the dwelling, where the guards had disappeared moments before. Twigs snapped beneath his boots and large ferns brushed against his sleeves. He ducked and dodged around the swaying foliage.
Rex laughed loudly and pinched Kat’s nipple.
Christ, he wanted to blow the fucker’s hand right off. The creepy bastard who’d threatened Molly. Who’d tried to kill her. Rage filled him. He forced away the impulse to step out of line.
To end Rex.
They got closer, traveling in a V formation. Movement on his right made him swivel his head. “Hostiles three o’clock. On your go.”
“Go,” Rogue said immediately.
Atlas pulled the trigger and hit one of the guards between the eyes. Clean shot. His two friends frantically turned toward where the shots had been fired, but Atlas was faster. He got one of the guys in the shoulder and the third threw himself behind the house for cover.
Kat screamed and raced for the sliding door, a towel now wrapped around her.
Rex stood firm, his old but fit body vibrating on the spot. The bastard knew they wanted him alive. He was worth too much.
Ten yards before the wall, Rogue slowed and held up his hand. Right now, they were still out of view due to the thick foliage.
“Come and get me!” Rex shouted. A laugh followed. He spread his arms wide and turned in a big circle as if he were king shit on turd island. Only the wall and the pool separated them.
“Lemme just put a bullet in his brain and call it a day,” Atlas murmured to Rogue.
“No. Spread out.”
Atlas veered right and Wraith left.
He moved quickly, getting closer to the property. As if on cue, the remaining eleven men rushed into the fight—four from the west, five from the sliding door of the house, and two from the east. Atlas reached the cement wall and ducked low. A large fern shielded him.
From where he knelt, he could see the east corner of the house and the driveway, which held two sedans and three heavy-duty jeeps.
The guards formed a circle around the half-naked asshat. A flash of red moved among the tangle of cargo-covered legs.
“Come on out!” Rex taunted. “No one’s gonna hurt you.” He let out another laugh.
Atlas dipped his head to the scope and narrowed in on one of the guards pointing at the jungle in Rogue’s direction. “Target in sight.”
“Hold fire. Wraith, prepare to throw.”
“Frag ready.”
Atlas froze, waiting for the drop.
“Shoot!” screamed Rex. “Just shoot the whole fucking jungle up!” He pumped his arm in the air.
His men obeyed.
Eleven guards unloaded bullets into the foliage. The clap of gunfire echoed over the trees.
