Page 22 of Striker
“What makes you so sure you’ll find him that quickly?”
He smiled, revealing glistening pearly whites. “We’re Phantom Ops. We get the job done. Now, will you tell me what kinds of questions Rex asked you about your boss?”
Stretching out her legs and feeling more at ease, she laced her fingers together. “He asked where Willy’s meeting points were and who his contacts were.” She shrugged.
Atlas dragged the tip of his thumb beneath his bottom lip. “Interesting. Do you think he was trying to steal from your boss?”
“He never said. But it was obvious he thought I knew more about Willy than I did.”
He nodded slowly. “Well, if anything else comes to mind, please tell me. We still have a while before the guys get here. I’m gonna have a quick shower if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Would you like to call your family?”
She nodded. In truth, she didn’t want to speak to her parents yet. Didn’t want to have to answer their questions and upset them more than they probably already were. However, she had to face the music.
He passed her a bulky device. “It’s a satellite phone. But works for calls and texts like any other. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.”
He went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Molly dialed the phone number she’d had memorized since childhood. Her brain fumbled for the right thing to say, an explanation. Nothing came forth.
“Hello?” Her mother, Sarah, answered. Strain pulled at the greeting.
Sadness crushed Molly’s chest. They must have been sick with worry. “Hi, Mom.”
“Molly! Oh my god. Your father’s out right now. I wish he were here to hear your voice. We’ve been so worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m okay, though.”
“Were you in an accident? Why haven’t you called? Whose number is this?” The questions came out rapid-fire.
She closed her eyes and rolled onto her side on the bed. “It’s a long story.”
“Molly, please tell me what’s happened.”
Tears clogged Molly’s throat.
“I’m coming there. We’ll get on a flight today.” Conviction filled her mother’s words.
“No, you don’t need to do that.” She summoned a breath and then told her mother almost everything that had happened in the last two weeks, skipping over the mention of Rex threatening to sell her.
Her mother sobbed quietly as she listened, and asked pained questions along the way. By the time Molly hung up, after promising to call that night, every cell in her body was drained.
Molly’s tired, scared expression filled Atlas’s mind every time he closed his eyes. He scrubbed his soapy hands over his face. He’d never forget that stabbing look of fear she’d given him when he admitted to killing people.
The distrust, though evident for only a second, cut him to the core. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, dammit. But he also wouldn’t lie. His career was everything to him. And he wouldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t.
Even if that meant she thought him a goddamn monster. In all his thirty-six years, he’d never given a damn if someone thought less of him.
He scoffed away his irritation and flicked off the water. He tore open the shower curtain and grabbed a clean towel from the rack. Stepping out of the tub, he glanced down at where he’d helped her bathe the previous night.
The sight of her bruised and dirty body had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t let his mind wander to what could have happened if he and the guys hadn’t arrived when they had. He scrubbed his body dry and winced as the terry cloth rubbed over the new scar on his chest, beneath his shoulder.
His other healed wound, on his thigh, ached. After he’d walked through the jungle carrying Molly the previous night, the muscle had twinged for hours. Not that he’d tell Rogue that. His boss had already been reluctant to let Atlas return to work. He’d been shot twice just five weeks ago.
