Page 75 of Striker
“Yeah.” He sipped again.
“How did you find out where she lives?”
He grinned. “Rogue found Damian again—the guy waiting outside your apartment the other night. We brought him in for another round of questions this morning and lo and behold, he had an address for us.”
Wow. “That came together.”
“Usually does. One piece at a time. How ’bout I teach you a game of poker?”
She wrinkled her nose and placed the cards back on the table. “I’m not sure I have the capacity to learn something new right now. I’m too nervous.”
“All right.” He picked up the deck of cards. “Name your game.”
She grinned. “Why mess with a good thing? Blackjack.”
He rolled his eyes and shuffled the deck. She propped her chin on her hand. At least kicking Viper’s ass at cards wasn’t boring.
“How many?” Atlas kept his gaze on his scope. He was staring at Kat’s property. Watching Rex fuck the woman in her pool made his skin crawl more than the hissing of the critters coming from the jungle floor at his knees.
Rex finished thrusting then rolled away from the woman with long red hair. He leaned his elbows on the edge of the pool. At the moment, the two were alone. Five minutes and fifteen thrusts earlier, there’d been three guards in the pool area. Rex had sent them away.
Rogue was still gathering drone footage, otherwise they would have gone in minutes ago.
“Looks like three more inside, plus three smoking at the front of the house.”
“Five against six,” Wraith said. “Damn good odds if ya ask me.”
Urgency filled Atlas’s veins with ice. They were so fucking close to ending this. To wrapping up the job, getting Molly safe, and going home.
“Bringing the drone in. Let’s get that sonofa?—”
The rumble of a motor sounded in the distance. The hair on the back of Atlas’s neck jumped to attention. He swiveled his gaze to his boss. Rogue’s mouth hardened. Sweat dotted his brow.
He turned the tablet to Atlas. He watched on the screen as a large jeep rolled up the road running parallel to where they were staked out. Another one was right behind it. Both vehicles pulled into the driveway, and a bunch of men jumped out of both.
Dread wrapped his vocal cords in a death grip.
“Who the fuck is that?” Wraith spat, snatching the tablet from Rogue. “There’s eight more hostiles. Fourteen total.”
Atlas dragged his palm over his face, pulling the sweat off his pores but leaving the anxiety.
He looked at Rogue again. He’d seen his friend pissed. Seen him unsure. Never had he seen him nervous.
“Were we spotted?” Havoc asked.
“Nah,” Wraith said. “They’re geared up, though.”
“They must be expecting us.” Even as Atlas spoke the words, he wanted to deny them. They’d been so goddamn careful except for one thing. Only one person could’ve done this.
“The stripper,” Rogue growled. His menacing gaze shifted to the pool, where Kat let out a squeal of laughter.
“Had to be,” Wraith said. “She tipped us off. Knew we’d find the place, then alerted Rex.”
Atlas stood, letting out a sigh. “Doesn’t matter. This ends now.”
“Copy,” Rogue said brusquely.
The team moved in to stand in a tight circle. “Reaper, Atlas, and I will push out early,” Rogue said. “Wraith and Havoc, you come in behind us. We’ll close in on the pool and secure the target.”
