Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Molly dropped to her knees beside the rock cliff. The guards’ voices carried over the edge—so close.
If they came down, she’d be caught.
She stared out at the onyx waves. The water roiled, and swells rose from the depths of the sea. She wouldn’t last five minutes if she had to swim. Rain pelted the water, leaving divots on the surface and shore. Her hair and clothes stuck to her head and body.
She pressed her back to the smooth slate, curling her knees against her. Her teeth chattered and the howling breeze stole what little warmth her body could generate.
“What, ya think she fucking swam, Chris?” one of the men hollered. He laughed derisively.
The wind blew hard. Rain hammered against her cheeks. A flashlight beam hit the shore and the air left from her lungs. Her frozen fingertips dug into the sides of her legs.
She pulled herself into a tight ball and glanced high above her, blinking through the drops rolling over her eyes.
The edge of the cliff was in view, only about six feet over her head. She needed cover—anything to hide her from their sight.
Bright yellow panned over the rocks and the waves rushing up the sand, coming dangerously close to her toes.
“You better hope not or you’re going after her,” the other guard retorted.
“Willy said to take the boat out. If she tried to swim, she wouldn’t have made it far.”
“Goddammit.”
“Head to the stairs. We need to search the shore anyway. If we don’t find her below, we’ll search the water around the island.”
Molly glanced to her right. Sure enough, farther down the shoreline was a set of wooden stairs leading down to the sand. A motorboat bounced and swayed violently against the dock.
She had minutes before they got to her. Minutes before she was dragged back to the room and drugged.
The thought of Willy’s slimy hands touching her body made her shift quickly to her knees. The men were quiet now, likely heading toward the stairs. She stayed low, sticking close to the rock wall as she felt around the slippery surface. There had to be a place she could hide. A large rock—anything.
Her fingers disappeared into a wide crack in the slate. Cold sweat mixed with the rain on the back of her neck. Her teeth chattered. Her breath wheezed through her nose.
Moving closer, she spotted a hole about three feet in diameter etched into the rock wall.
Hope ignited and she let out a giddy laugh.
Dipping her head inside, she tried to see how deep the hole was, but it was too dark.
Boulders jutted out from the sides but there was enough space for her to crawl into.
Pushing off the sand with her toes, she crawled past the boulder. The rough walls pulled at her clothes, snagging the material and scratching her sides as she army crawled her way into the deep crevice.
Claustrophobia roared through her senses as she lay sandwiched between the rocks, making her desperate to crawl back out into the open.
She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Atlas filled her mind’s eye. His dazzling blue-green orbs, the perfect slope of his nose, the scruff of his beard that she’d do anything to feel. Tears leaked through her lashes.
She let her imagination drift to the feel of his embrace. When his warm, strong arms were around her, everything else fell away. He was a rock of strength. A solid foundation. If he were here right now, in her position, he would survive.
And she had to as well.
He wouldn’t stop looking for her. She was as sure of that as she was that the ocean lay beyond her hiding place. Her heart ached knowing he was out there, aimlessly searching for her.
And he wouldn’t find her.
Not here.
She had to get away from the island. Eventually they’d give up, and once they did, she might be able to reach a boat or flag down passersby. Willy was evil and vengeful, but he’d throw in the towel eventually.
Hopefully before she died of dehydration. If it kept raining, she’d try to gather some water in her hands—
“I see footprints!”
Her stomach dropped. Her eyes shot open. She dug her fingers into the stone and pushed herself as far from the opening as possible. Her back hit the end of the crevice, the wall digging into her spine.
Fear locked her muscles in place. Every raging beat of her overactive heart made her chest ache. A set of feet appeared in the sand where she’d been only minutes before.
“Looks like she crawled into this hole.” A light whipped into the cave, hitting her in the eyes.
She gasped. Her whole body shook.
“Told ya,” the man said smugly. “Found you. Get your ass out here before we shoot.”
A small cry escaped her throat. She covered her face with her hand, refusing to accept her fate.
“I swear to god I’ll shoot!”
She peeked through her fingers. The long end of a rifle stared back at her.
There was nowhere to run.
They’d follow through with their promise, but at least once she was dead, there’d be no use for her.
“We’ll smoke her out. Hang on. I bet there’s a flare in the boat.”
“No,” she whispered involuntarily.
Alarm rose in her chest and tears filled her eyes.
“Come on,” the man said, with bright and fake smile. “Make this easy on both of us. Crawl your scrawny ass out here.”
“Go to hell!” she bellowed.
He smirked. “Suit yourself. I like me a good bonfire.”
“Dude. Just eat something. It could be hours before we find her.” Rogue set a bottle of water and a protein bar on the table in front of Atlas.
The thought of putting food in his stomach made his gut revolt.
He turned his attention to the laptop screen next to him. When Atlas and Viper had walked into the hotel room, Havoc had already been at work trying to hack into the café’s security system.
“This better not take hours,” Atlas said. “You’ve hacked into far tighter systems.”
“Won’t take hours,” Havoc said, his gaze focused on the screen. “If you’d all shut up for five minutes this would be done.”
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.
Rogue folded his arms across his chest. “They didn’t shoot her.”
Atlas screwed up his face. “Huh?”
“They didn’t shoot her.” He gestured at the screen. “Don’t you think it would’ve been quicker and easier to just put a bullet in her head and get outta Dodge?”
“Obviously, but that would’ve caused a scene.”
“They already caused a scene. They even attacked a bystander. Taking her was a big risk, and I think that should give you comfort that there’s a damn good chance she’s still alive.”
Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted comfort. Any type of relief would extend his life expectancy right now, but he couldn’t be delusional either. They’d come too close to killing her in her apartment to assume otherwise. “I hope you’re right.”
Rogue flashed a devilish grin and nudged him with his elbow. “I’m always right.”
Atlas looked at Havoc. “Think you can get a trace on the van?”
Havoc’s mouth twisted. “I can’t make any promises. Track down Jenna and I’ll keep working on this end.”