Page 90 of Striker
His guts wrenched with worry.
Viper called Havoc as he peeled away from the curb and swung in a U-turn.
Havoc answered on the first ring. “Hey, where are you guys?”
Viper filled him in on what they’d found, and for once, Atlas was grateful for his friend’s voice. Viper carried the weight of the conversation. All Atlas could do was stare out of the windshield.
They stopped at a red light and impatience rushed through him. Before he could snap at Viper to blow through it, the light flicked to green.
Five minutes later, they pulled into the hotel parking garage.
He hopped out and Viper ran behind him. No way he was slowing down. Every goddamn second counted.
Please, God. Keep her alive until I find her.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Molly dropped to her knees beside the rock cliff. The guards’ voices carried over the edge—so close.
If they came down, she’d be caught.
She stared out at the onyx waves. The water roiled, and swells rose from the depths of the sea. She wouldn’t last five minutes if she had to swim. Rain pelted the water, leaving divots on the surface and shore. Her hair and clothes stuck to her head and body.
She pressed her back to the smooth slate, curling her knees against her. Her teeth chattered and the howling breeze stole what little warmth her body could generate.
“What, ya think she fucking swam, Chris?” one of the men hollered. He laughed derisively.
The wind blew hard. Rain hammered against her cheeks. A flashlight beam hit the shore and the air left from her lungs. Her frozen fingertips dug into the sides of her legs.
She pulled herself into a tight ball and glanced high above her, blinking through the drops rolling over her eyes.
The edge of the cliff was in view, only about six feet over her head. She needed cover—anything to hide her from their sight.
Bright yellow panned over the rocks and the waves rushing up the sand, coming dangerously close to her toes.
“You better hope not or you’re going after her,” the other guard retorted.
“Willy said to take the boat out. If she tried to swim, she wouldn’t have made it far.”
“Goddammit.”
“Head to the stairs. We need to search the shore anyway. If we don’t find her below, we’ll search the water around the island.”
Molly glanced to her right. Sure enough, farther down the shoreline was a set of wooden stairs leading down to the sand. A motorboat bounced and swayed violently against the dock.
She had minutes before they got to her. Minutes before she was dragged back to the room and drugged.
The thought of Willy’s slimy hands touching her body made her shift quickly to her knees. The men were quiet now, likely heading toward the stairs. She stayed low, sticking close to the rock wall as she felt around the slippery surface. There had to be a place she could hide. A large rock—anything.
Her fingers disappeared into a wide crack in the slate. Cold sweat mixed with the rain on the back of her neck. Her teeth chattered. Her breath wheezed through her nose.
Moving closer, she spotted a hole about three feet in diameter etched into the rock wall. Hope ignited and she let out a giddy laugh. Dipping her head inside, she tried to see how deep the hole was, but it was too dark. Boulders jutted out from the sides but there was enough space for her to crawl into.
Pushing off the sand with her toes, she crawled past the boulder. The rough walls pulled at her clothes, snagging the material and scratching her sides as she army crawled her way into the deep crevice.
Claustrophobia roared through her senses as she lay sandwiched between the rocks, making her desperate to crawl back out into the open.
