“No, we’re not. I’m not sitting in a goddamn room when she’s out here.” He glanced out of his window and his chest tightened.
“Our equipment’s at the hotel. I got a text from Rogue—they’ve passed off Rex and his woman. They’re half an hour from the hotel.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. Realistically, he couldn’t do anything. Had nowhere to look. They didn’t even have a starting point as to how they might use their equipment. “She mentioned something about a café. Cruise by her apartment building so we can see what’s there.”
It wasn’t much, but if he could find any clue as to where she’d been last, he had to try.
Chapter
Twenty-One
That bastard.
On the bed, Molly curled her knees to her chest. Tears filled her eyes, but she wouldn’t shed them. Not here. Not when Willy could walk in and see. The silk sheets against her skin were a sharp contrast to her impending future.
Rex had been so hell-bent on learning about Willy’s business dealings she’d assumed something had gone down between the two of them, or that the rival companies had developed too much competition between them.
To think she’d been working for a criminal. The notion made her skin crawl.
She brought her attention to the cuff at her wrist. Even if she got free, she couldn’t exactly swim to the mainland. However, she also couldn’t sit and wait for her fate.
Atlas was an incredible man and soldier and Phantom Ops a deadly team. But she wouldn’t delude herself into thinking they’d find her hidden away on this random island—they likely suspected Rex was behind this.
She let out a growl of frustration and pulled at the metal on her wrist. Her hand screamed, but she twisted and pulled so hard she flopped backward on the slippery sheet. Her breath came out in angry, rapid pants.
The metal was too snug on her flesh. If she had oil or something slippery . . .
She straightened. She grabbed the corner of the sheet, pushed the handcuff as high on her forearm as it would go, then wrapped the silk around her hand and wrist, holding the material tightly.
Taking a deep breath, she dragged the handcuff down her arm. The metal glided over the silk. It caught at her knuckles but traveled much farther than it had only moments before.
She could do this. Had to. Curling her fingers and hand as close together as possible, she pulled as hard as she could. Her knuckles pulsed from the pressure, her thumb taking the brunt of the assault, but the handcuff moved farther.
She grunted, holding her breath so she wouldn’t shriek. Her right hand slid forward, tearing the cuff from her wrist. She froze with shock.
I’m free.
She dropped the cuff to the bed and rubbed her aching hand. Her breath quickened. Her pulse roared in her ears as she rose on shaky feet. She paused near the wall just outside the balcony in case there were guards outside.
The cool ocean breeze touched her face, its saltiness calling her like a siren. Voices sounded from outside. She leaned closer to the wall and peered down over the balcony through the metal railings.
The property was on a bluff surrounded by rocks. Thick trees sprouted out around the house, which appeared to be growing out of the side of the cliff. The ground sloped toward the water.
If she could escape her room, she might be able to jump right into the ocean—a deadly option. She shuddered at the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. She wasn’t a very strong swimmer. Add in swimming at night forty miles from the mainland and she was bound to end up at the bottom of the sea.
A gruff laugh urged her a few inches closer to the door. She could see more of the property surrounding her balcony now, including a stone path nestled next to the back of the house. Two men stood on the trail about fifteen feet away with guns draped across their backs. White smoke billowed from their mouths and twin orange embers lit the night.
They spoke low, but their voices carried on the wind. “He’ll be here in a couple of hours to get the woman. We’re supposed to drug her before then. Willy wants her out cold when he gets here.”
The blood drained from Molly’s face. A lump swelled in her throat, preventing her from swallowing. His friend said something in response, but she couldn’t hear a damn thing through the racing of her pulse.
A few seconds later, the men turned away from her and moved up the side of the house, possibly to circle the perimeter. Now was her only shot.
She stepped through the open door. The breeze blew over her skin and around her leggings and long-sleeved T-shirt. Chilly. Too bad she’d never put on the zip-up hoodie Viper had insisted she grabbed. She almost grinned because he’d been right about the breeze. She had to move before they came for her again. Thankfully her pants were black and her shirt was navy but her blond hair would make her easy to spot.
Her bare feet moved silently over the cold cement. She’d lost her sandals at some point since being taken. She reached the railing. She was maybe eight feet up. She’d rather risk a broken bone or a sprain than getting caught.
She had to hurry.
