Page 81 of Striker
Molly straightened and powered down the glass with trembling fingers. “Thank you. I’m okay. I just need to call?—”
Crack!
The woman’s head snapped to the side. Blood sprayed. Terror coated Molly’s skin. A scream erupted from her throat.
A man dressed in black reached into her window and hit the unlock button.
“No!” she screamed, clawing at his wrist.
He yanked open the door and his hands reached in. He unbuckled her seatbelt and tore her from the seat.
“No! Help!”
He dragged her across the pavement. Two bystanders stood nearby, gaping at the scene but not interfering.
“Help, please! Call the police!”
A van door rattled open and greedy hands reached for her. The man pulling her threw her forward, into the open vehicle. Faces shrouded in black ski masks filled her vision . . . three men.
Her stomach bottomed out. “No!” she screamed, lunging for the door.
Rough, angry hands anchored her in place. Something cold and sharp stabbed the side of her neck. Shooting pain lit a path across her skin. Her body jolted and her limbs stretched. Her vision faded as the door slammed shut.
Atlas secured the torniquet around the top of Wraith’s thigh. Sweat dripped down his friend’s cheeks as he sat on the ground with his back against a tree. His skin was ashen beneath the red blotches on his face.
With Wraith in bad shape, they couldn’t walk to the small field where Viper would land the chopper.
Rogue had retrieved their bags from the jungle and returned with their vehicle, which they’d parked away from the road. Atlas had helped load Rex and Kat, and Rogue and Havoc had left to hand over the prisoners.
At least that part of the mission was done.
Now, they had to get Wraith to safety before he lost too much blood. Reaper was rummaging through the pockets of one of the dead guards.
With a satisfied smile, he stood and brushed back the few sweat-damp curls that’d fallen from his ponytail. He rattled the keys in the air. “Found us a ride.”
“Took ya feckin’ long enough.”
Atlas stretched out his hand to Wraith. “Come on. Viper will be here soon.”
Reaper approached, and they got the Scot to his feet and half carried him to the jeep. Reaper swung open the door, and they helped him into the back.
Wraith’s eyes flickered before jerking open, then lost focus.
Atlas glanced at Reaper. “You drive.”
Fear pinched his chest. He hopped in the back next to Wraith and pulled out his medical bag. Reaper got into the driver’s seat and moments later they were cruising down the dark, dusty road.
Atlas pulled a pack of electrolytes from his bag and opened it for his friend. Wraith accepted the package and tossed the liquid back.
Next, Atlas took out rations. His goal was to keep Wraith from passing out.
“Thanks.” Wraith took a bite of the coconut-flavored bar.
While Wraith chewed, Atlas peered at the shirt Rogue had tied around the wound. Despite the torniquet, blood seeped through.
Reaper met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “How long till Viper gets here?”
Atlas glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes or so.”
