Page 55 of Striker
The five of them moved from the parking lot shrouded by sleeping and abandoned buildings. The area was quiet, but that also meant their presence could be easily spotted.
They reached the edge of the lot and Atlas and Viper broke away from the group to cross the street. The other guys turned right, sticking close to the shadows the warehouse provided. Atlas and Viper ducked into the alleyway at the back of the building.
Heat radiated off the asphalt even though the sun had gone down. The air was thick and humid.
Anticipation made his steps light, his breath slow. He couldn’t promise he’d leave Rex unscathed once he got his hands on the man. Rogue wouldn’t like it, but there was no way he was walking away without putting the fear of god into the bastard.
One heart wrenching memory of Molly stained his mind—chained to the wall at that damn house in the jungle wearing a dirty, smelly men’s shirt, bruises discoloring her pretty face, her body thin and dehydrated.
He clenched his weapon. Yeah, there was no fucking way he was turning Rex in without knocking out the bastard’s teeth.
They passed a dumpster, then rounded a corner that led to the rear parking lot. A few cars were parked beneath a streetlight, and a road jetted off from the alley, slithering to the loading dock.
A truck was parked at the dock, and someone held a flashlight while a man rolled a dolly out of the warehouse and up the ramp leading to the back of the truck. Viper jerked his head, and they ducked behind a parked SUV forty feet from the two men.
“See any other guards?” Viper asked.
Atlas studied the dark space beyond the man holding the flashlight. It was too dim to see inside that area of the building. “No.”
Viper spoke into his mic. “We’ve got eyes on the dock. They’re loading right now. One driver and what appears to be one of Rex’s guards. Any more we can expect here?”
“Harry mentioned that only one man was taking care of the load tonight,” Rogue said. “He said they’re short-staffed—thanks to us.” His tone held satisfaction.
“Copy.”
The man wheeled another load into the back of the truck, then hopped down and made his way to the driver’s side. He started the engine and the headlights came on.
White beams swept over the pavement. The truck passed them and drove toward the alley. In a second, the taillights were gone. The guard stood outside the raised loading dock door with a phone to his ear, a gun hanging across his chest. He wore a tight black T-shirt and black cargo pants.
“Move,” Atlas ordered.
He stayed low with Viper on his six, ducking around cars and inching closer to the loading dock. They got to the exterior wall of the building and skimmed along the brick toward the set of stairs that led up to the platform on which the man stood.
“I’ll take him.” Atlas reached for the knife tucked into the holster around his ankle. He yanked the blade from its sheath.
“Hold for Havoc,” Viper said. “Havoc, you got the scrambler?”
“On it.”
The device would disconnect the internet service temporarily and disrupt the camera feed. To anyone inside the building, it would seem as if the connection had simply been lost for a moment. By that time, the team would be in the building.
The guard paced. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he hit a button on his screen. Curses floated from the phone.
“Look,” the guard said impatiently. “You’ve got every right to be pissed, but if you have concerns, you’ve gotta take them up with Rex.”
“I would if he’d answer his damn phone!”
The guard turned his back, and Atlas climbed the cement steps.
“Done,” said Havoc.
Eagerness invaded Atlas as he approached the guard from behind.
“Sure, I’ll tell him.” The guard ended his call and reached to slide his phone into his back pocket.
Atlas leapt forward. He caught the man’s head with his free hand, jerked it back, then swiped the blade over his throat. Blood gushed in a stream. He shoved the man off the platform, and he landed on the cement.
“Let’s go.” Viper was already up the steps. “Someone will notice he’s gone soon.”
