Atlas wiped his knife on his pant leg and slid it back in its sheath. Then, with his hands locked on his rifle and aimed ahead of him, he moved inside the building with Viper.
Molly accepted the chamomile tea Wraith had fixed her. She sat at the far end of the couch near the patio door, her legs tucked under her. A sitcom played on the TV, the volume low.
“How long have you known Atlas?”
Wraith took a sip of his coffee, then set the cup on the table between them, taking the accent chair across from her. The patio door was cracked open. A warm, salty breeze stirred the air.
Wraith crossed his ankle over his knee. “Long time. We served t’gether in Afghanistan, then I left the service. Rogue—Roarke, in case you didn’t know—called me up one day ’n said, ‘You’re joinin’ Phantom Ops. Quit whatever job you’re doin’.’”
Molly raised her eyebrows. “And you did?”
He laced his fingers behind his head. “Hell yeah. I was working at my stepdad’s shop in Dallas and that ole bast’rd drove me up the wall.”
“Why’s that?”
“He drinks more’n he thinks.” He gave her a devilish grin. “Plus, Rogue’s offer of ten times my yearly salary was like winnin’ the feckin’ lottery.”
His accent made her grin. “I’m sure they’re lucky to have you.”
“Prolly not.” His face turned serious. “How’re you feeling after last night?”
His question made her tighten her hands around the warm mug. She brought it to her lips and savored the soft, aromatic tea. “A little high-strung, to be honest. My neck’s sore.” She brushed her fingers over her throat.
Wraith firmed his lips. “Lemme know if you want me to get you anything.”
“I’m fine.” All she wanted was?—
“I know that what you really want can’t be here right now. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about Atlas. Guy’s our sharpest shooter.” He winked.
“I’m more worried about how well Rex’s men shoot.”
“Aye. That’s the kicker. You can be the best and . . .” He trailed off. “Ne’r mind. Like I said, he’s a golden boy.”
She chuckled. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
His reassuring grin twisted into one of horror. “I’ll deny it.”
That brought forth a real laugh. “You all are so amusing. I’ll miss hearing you guys fight after all this.”
He cocked his head. “Not sticking around?”
“What, you want me to be your seventh team member?”
Wraith studied her, not taking the bait. “I meant sticking around Atlas.” He sounded protective.
Her cheeks heated. Wraith was quicker than the others gave him credit for.
But if things didn’t work out between Atlas and her, it’d have nothing to do with her wanting to leave him. She couldn’t say that, though.
Rather than engaging in a conversation she wasn’t willing to have with one of Atlas’s closest friends, she reached for the remote. “This one’s getting boring. How about we watch Friends?”
Chapter
Fourteen
Atlas strode ahead of Viper. He panned his rifle from left to right, ready to shoot. The loading area held over a dozen pallets of items wrapped in plastic and waiting to ship. Interest pulled at him, but investigation wasn’t part of his job.
He moved to a door at the far side of the room, then pressed his back to the wall. Viper did the same next to him. He reached for the handle, then swung open the door and rushed into the concrete stairwell.
