Page 21 of Striker
Molly’s nerves bunched into knots. Her hand was sweating inside Atlas’s large palms, but she didn’t pull away.
Even though his words had rocked her.
The man was huge, imposing, and a trained soldier.
Atlas was dangerous.
Goosebumps erupted over her skin.
Military trained without the badges. Was he some kind of mercenary? He’d told her that all the guards in Rex’s house were dead. So he’d killed them. That fact hadn’t registered until now.
“You’ve killed people?” Her words came out thin and wiry.
His brow puckered, pinching the skin above his nose. She could stare at his face and body all day. Get to know every line of ink, every wrinkle and scar. His eyes were twin pools of blue-green intensity, his sandy hair close-cropped, and his stubble . . . god, she wanted to touch more than his hand.
The realization had her reeling. She’d just asked if he killed people, for god’s sake, and in the next instant needed to wipe the drool from her chin. Maybe she needed a hospital after all.
“Well, yeah,” he said slowly. “A lot of people. The guards, to name a few.”
Her mouth went dry.
She should be incredibly disturbed by his admission. Rex’s men had been cruel and evil, but other people? Only she wasn’t disturbed. Not in the least. Instead, excitement licked her belly.
“I need a drink,” she rasped, reaching for the orange juice as if it held more than a dose of vitamin C.
Letting go of his hand, she unscrewed the cap and took a big swig, then gasped.
He chuckled and pried the plastic from her fingers. “You’re gonna drown yourself, there, Molly.”
She wiped her mouth and pulled her knees closer. Her fingers itched to slide back into the calloused cushion of his palm. She mentally kicked herself for having pulled away. Reaching for him now might be awkward.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His lips tipped up at the corners. “I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else, either. But yes, I’ve killed plenty of people who’ve deserved it, and I’ll do it again.”
He leaned back in the chair and rested his palms on his thighs. “I can’t tell you much about our mission. Matter of fact, I’ve already told you enough to get me thrown off the team.”
Guilt rushed through her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. But this shit’s serious. We’ve got a major drug lord who needs to be taken down.”
She hadn’t realized that was Rex’s specialty. He’d questioned her many times about Willy’s business dealings, but given the threats and innuendos he’d made about selling her, she’d assumed he was into human trafficking. She supposed drugs fell close enough to that category.
“What happens to me now?”
He lowered his gaze and seemed reluctant to answer. “We take you back to Panama City. I assume you’ve got a place there?”
She nodded.
“Friends? Relatives?” A boyfriend? Though he didn’t ask the question, the words hung silently in the balance making her cheeks warm. Or maybe she just imagined his interest.
She lifted a shoulder. “I-I don’t have a lot of friends there, no. My coworker, Tara, is the only person I really talk to.”
“Can you stay with her so you’re not alone? You might need some help as you get your strength back.”
“Oh, no. She has an eight-year-old son, and they live with her mom. I wouldn’t want to endanger them.”
“You’re not in any danger—not anymore. We’ll find Rex today. Tomorrow at the latest. He’s not looking for you. He’s too busy hiding from us.”
Hearing his conviction loosened some of the tension in her shoulders. She hadn’t wanted to voice the fear embedded deep in her psyche: she was terrified Rex would come looking for her.
