Page 92 of Striker
Atlas stood. Locking his hands behind his neck, he paced from the dining area to the living room. Angst pulsed across his forehead. Hours ago, Molly had been safe with him. In their suite just down the hall.
Now, he’d fucked everything up. Left her alone.
Christ.
His brain hurt. He’d missed something—a pivotal piece of Rex’s operation. How could he have been so stupid?
“What’d he say?” he said, pivoting toward the table, stabbing Rogue with his gaze. “Rex.”
Rogue sighed. “I told you guys. He had no idea. Honestly, I believed him.” His tone was grave, remorseful.
“Well how the hell can he be innocent? He tried to kill her more than once already.” Atlas threw his hands out in the air before letting them drop to his sides.
“Look, I get what you’re saying, but he?—”
“I don’t think it was him,” Viper said. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“Sure it does,” Atlas snapped. “We saw how his stripper— What the hell was her name?”
“Jenna,” Rogue said.
“Jenna. She set us up at Kat’s house. They knew we were coming. Who’s to say that the second she called Rex, he didn’t tell her to have men go after Molly?”
The certainty in Rogue’s expression fell away. “That’s possible.”
“No shit,” he spat.
“Then we go to the club,” Havoc declared. “Someone there will know what the hell’s going on.”
Rogue lifted a shoulder. “Probably a good idea. Striker, you and Viper can go since you look like you’ll jump out of your skin any second if you don’t move. Havoc and I will stay here and finish getting into the security system.”
“Already done,” Havoc announced with triumph.
Atlas was around the table in seconds. Hell, they needed a miracle—and at this point, any clue would serve as one.
“Hang on,” Havoc said. “Just finding the right clip. What time do you think she was taken?”
Atlas gave him the approximate time she would’ve been at the café.
A view of the side street where the accident had taken place filled the screen. They watched for several seconds. Vehicles came and went.
“Fast-forward it,” Viper said.
Havoc hit a button and the clip moved. Then a small black sedan turned onto the street and slowed to wait for someone to pull out of a parking spot near the curb. Havoc returned the video to normal speed.
“That’s her car.” The words squeezed from Atlas’s throat. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck, and his nerves spurred in a frenzy.
He watched as a vehicle slammed into the back of Molly’s car. He saw her body jerk, and though he couldn’t see her face, he felt her terror.
I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you.
A young woman jogged over to her window. Within seconds the attacker was out of his vehicle, and he smashed the concerned pedestrian over the head with the butt of his gun.
Molly was yanked from her car, her body resisting and fighting the rough hands restraining her. A van rolled up and the side door opened. She was pushed inside.
The van peeled away and she was gone. Fucking gone.
Atlas locked his teeth together. Rage brought his blood to a boil. He needed to move, to expel the fury, but he stood rooted to the spot. Paralyzed.
