The men stopped a few paces behind Atlas.
Rogue bristled next to him. “What?”
“Don’t know.” He kept his finger on the trigger.
“We need to check it out.”
Atlas exhaled through his nose. “Not all of us.”
“I’ll go,” Rogue said. “Cover me.”
Apprehension rattled Atlas’s bones. He kept his gun locked on the target but swept his gaze around. The streets were empty, sidewalks clear. Nothing but the ominous orange glow of the streetlights.
His gaze stopped on the street they’d crossed earlier, which ran perpendicular to the warehouse. A sedan with its headlights off sat at the side of the road. At first glance, it appeared empty, but a flash of movement in the driver’s seat sent an alarm blaring through his skull.
“Get back!” He ran forward, grabbing Rogue’s vest.
Kaboom!
He threw Rogue to the ground and landed on the pavement next to him as the truck exploded. Debris rained down on them. Atlas’s ears rang and pungent smoke rushed into his nose and mouth. He covered his face, but heat scorched his head.
After several beats, he looked up. Rogue did as well. Blood trickled from his friend’s temple. Reaper and Havoc raced toward the sedan, firing at the occupant.
Viper bent and offered his hand to Rogue. “Jesus,” Viper shouted, over the crackling of smoldering metal. “You all right?”
Rogue grasped Viper’s arm and was pulled to his feet. “I’m good. You?”
“We took cover in time,” Viper said, reaching down to help Atlas.
Atlas stood, his heart thundering.
“I don’t know how you spotted that, man.” Worry creased Viper’s face.
Atlas grunted. If they hadn’t gotten down when they had, they all could have been killed.
One thing was for sure—they’d underestimated Rex.
Tears welled up in Molly’s eyes and choked the breath from her lungs. “W-What?” she rasped, staring at Wraith as if he held all the answers.
“Sit down.” He pressed his hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away.
She’d started pacing like a caged animal the minute Wraith answered his phone. Fear had been apparent in his voice while he spoke to Viper.
“Tell me he’s okay.” Why she was demanding this of him she couldn’t say. If Atlas was hurt—or worse—Wraith wouldn’t lie.
“He’s okay. Now please. Sit’own, for Christ’s sake.”
Her lip trembled but she dropped onto the couch. “You said there was an explosion.”
He rubbed his hand over his short blond hair. “Aye. No one was hurt, though.”
She sniffed, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. The chamomile tea sat like sand in her stomach. “Is he coming back now?”
Wraith gave one hard shake of his head. “No. They’re determined to get Rex tonight.”
She rounded her eyes. “And if that doesn’t happen?”
“I suspect they won’t rest until they do.” He knelt in front of her, and his large frame looked so silly crouched down she would have smiled if she weren’t sick with worry and what-ifs.
