Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Molly moved in a fog. If it weren’t for Atlas’s arm around her as they returned to her apartment to gather her things, she’d have fainted.
With a small bag packed, she leaned against him as they walked out of her bedroom. She glanced toward the bathroom door even though Atlas had closed it when they’d passed it the last time.
Thankfully she hadn’t seen her attacker’s body again. “What do we do about that?” she asked, unable to even mention the dead man.
“Not for you to worry about,” he said curtly. They reached the front door and he paused. “Do you need anything else?”
Scanning her apartment, she fought a surge of despair. She’d never feel safe here again. Never be able to look at her quaint little space without remembering those hooded, soulless eyes. Without the memory of being pinned beneath the water. “No.”
He pulled her to his side again, and they walked through the building. Briefly she wondered if anyone had called the police. Would she need to make a statement? Relive the whole incident again?
Five minutes later, they reached Atlas’s SUV. He opened the passenger door and reached for her.
“I can—”
He caught her around the waist, lifted her into the seat, and buckled her up in one quick swoop.
“Atlas, you don’t have to baby me.”
He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Gimme one good reason not to.”
Before she could open her mouth, he kissed her forehead. Warmth spread over her cheeks and her lips tingled.
He shut the door, came around the hood, and hopped into the driver’s seat.
“What about that guy?” She glanced over her shoulder toward where the silver sedan had been parked.
“Already taken care of.” He turned over the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
He rubbed the tip of his knuckle under his chin. “Not for you to think about, babe.”
The endearment lifted her spirits a little.
He covered her thigh with his big, strong hand. “I just mean I don’t want you to worry about that stuff. This is our job.”
“Wait, what about Rex? You’re supposed to be working.” And instead, he was here, whisking her away and shouldering every worry that’d assaulted her.
“Part of the team is out looking for him. Rogue, Viper and I were resting while waiting for intel from the others.”
It could be hours or days before they caught him. What would happen to her? She couldn’t just cling to Atlas’s shirt and follow him around like a wounded puppy.
“I know you’re worried, but just know we’re doing our job.”
“It’s not your duty to protect me, Atlas. I know I called you, and as much as I want you here, I understand I’m not your responsibility.”
He stopped at a red light and turned to stare at her. “You’re in danger. That alone makes you my responsibility. Never mind that I—”
He clamped his lips together then looked back at the road. The light turned green. He accelerated.
“You what?”
His palm slid from her thigh to envelop her hand. “That I want to protect you.” The statement came out strong, without a sliver of doubt.
Delight swirled in her belly.
He brought their joined fingers to her lips. “I’m taking you back to our hotel, where you can sleep.”
“Okay.” She wanted to ask a million other questions—among them, what would happen to her when Atlas had to leave?
She couldn’t go there right now. She let her head fall back against the seat and closed her eyes. For now, she was with Atlas, and this was the only place she wanted to be.
He’d offered, but Molly had insisted she didn’t want a shower or a bath. He hadn’t been thinking, goddammit. She was surely traumatized.
When they’d gotten to the hotel, he’d gone straight to the front desk and rented another room for privacy. He wanted Molly to have her own space—with him.
He glanced over at her sleeping form next to him on the bed. At least she’d changed into dry clothes. It’d taken her a while to pass out. After watching her toss and turn for several minutes, he’d checked on her and she’d asked him to lie with her.
After he’d changed into jogging pants and taken off his shirt, he’d forced himself to get under the covers. Despite the fury and adrenaline coursing through him, he’d held her so she could rest. In minutes she’d fallen asleep.
He couldn’t, though. Not yet.
Not until he put Rex six feet under.
Hell, he couldn’t even do that because their instructions were to capture the bastard alive.
He checked his phone. Still no word from Havoc, Wraith, or Reaper. Which meant they’d either found Harry and were persuading him to talk or hadn’t located him yet.
Rogue and Viper had taken the guy in the silver sedan waiting outside Molly’s apartment. He’d received a text from Viper twenty minutes ago. They’d brought the guy to an empty field to beat information out of him.
Molly moaned in her sleep.
He tucked his phone under his pillow and swept his hand up and down her back. But she didn’t stop.
Her eyelids fluttered in the moonlight streaming through the curtains. Her brow furrowed. “No. No.” She gasped as if she couldn’t breathe.
“Molly,” he said softly, jostling her a little.
Her eyes sprang open and she inhaled sharply, lifting her head.
“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. I’m right here.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.
She sighed and lowered her head back down. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” She ran her hand up his bicep.
“Nope, just lyin’ here.”
“You haven’t slept?”
“I slept earlier.”
She snuggled closer. “I owe you a thank-you. Not just for coming to help me, but for everything. You saved me. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”
He brushed his fingers over her hair, combing back the strands. “You don’t need to thank me, Molly.”
Especially since she’d almost died the minute he left her. He’d been so focused on finding Rex and getting revenge that he’d underestimated the man. Hadn’t thought he’d have the ambition to find her.
Damn, he’d been wrong. So wrong. And Molly had suffered because of him.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her sweet voice entering his thoughts.
He smiled. “I was thinking you need more sleep.”
She rose onto her elbow. “I must have had a solid power nap because I’m not even tired.”
He settled onto his back. He wanted to pull her closer, but hell, he wanted to stare at her beautiful face, too.
“Well, I guess we’ve got time to kill then.”
She settled back down to lie next to him, her hand pillowed under her cheek. “Can I ask you a question?”
He dragged his fingers in a slow circle over her shoulder. He didn’t normally engage in much small talk when women were in his bed. Usually, they were there for one thing only, and so was he.
With Molly . . . it was different.
“Shoot.”
“When your shirt was off this morning, I saw a scar on your chest.” She hovered her fingers over his gunshot wound.
He covered her hand and brought it down on his chest. “I got shot.”
“When?” She tilted her head back to gaze at him.
Hell, he didn’t want to talk about that night. He’d revisited it countless times in his head, hating himself more with the memory. Last thing he wanted was for Molly to see him as weak. Injured. A victim.
“You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” If talking about that night made her forget what had happened to her earlier, he’d relive the event over and over.
“I was watching over Rogue’s girlfriend and her daughter one night. They were a target and I was the one stationed with them while Rogue went in search of their attacker.”
His insides twisted. He’d almost died, and Laine and Emmy had been taken. Had almost been killed.
It was a memory that weighed heavily on his conscience. Stole his dignity. Every fucking time his chest ached or pain shot down his thigh.
“I was sleeping on the couch. Thought I heard something and stood, then someone shot at me through the living room window. Hit me in the chest, just missing my lung. The other bullet got my leg.” He gestured to his left thigh. “Didn’t hit any bone at least.”
“Ohmigod,” she wheezed, rising back onto her elbow. “That’s terrible. It’s a miracle you’re alive.”
He grunted. “Rogue and Wraith kept me breathing until the paramedics got there. Which is icing on a shit cake because I know Rogue just wanted to go after Laine and Emmy and felt he couldn’t until I was taken care of.”
Her lips turned down at the corners. “I hope you don’t blame yourself. How could you possibly anticipate they were going to shoot through the window?”
“That’s just it, honey. In this world, I’ve got to anticipate everything or face the consequences. Which usually means death for me or someone else.”
She stroked his cheek. Her touch was so soft, so damn sweet.
He caught her hand and kissed her palm, tasting the vanilla flavor of her skin. He smoothed his thumb over the bandage still on her wrist.
Her eyes locked on his, drilling him to the spot. Desire rushed through him faster than a flashfire. He twined his fingers into the strands at the back of her head and brought her face closer to his. Her pouty lips quivered, tempting him.
He wanted to kiss every inch of her, erase every bruise and bad memory. But she’d been through so much.
Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, and her nails lightly bit into his muscle. Her breasts were pressed to his chest. Seconds suspended them in limbo while he fought a battle he didn’t want to fight.
“Atlas,” she whispered, almost pleadingly.
“Goddammit, Molly.”
She blinked, drawing back an inch. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Christ, no.” He let loose a breath and stroked his thumb along her jaw. “You’re so perfect, Molly.”
She lowered her dark lashes. “You don’t need to sweet-talk me. I already want you.”
His pulse kicked up a notch, falling into sync with his throbbing cock. He needed to pull away. To back the fuck up before lust consumed him.
But he couldn’t take his gaze off her face.