A cry caught in her throat as she stepped into the boat. On the leather seat, she turned to reach over the side to push the vessel away from the dock. Her hands locked around the wooden planks. Chris was only feet away.
She pushed with all her strength, but her foot slipped off the seat. She careened forward, nearly toppling into the waves. His fingers plunged into her hair.
“No!” she screamed, twisting to fight him.
He held fast, dragging her over the edge of the boat.
“Let me go!” Clawing at his wrist, she pulled against his hold, not caring if every strand ripped from her scalp in the process.
Wham!
A fist smacked against her jaw, rattling her teeth. Her muscles went slack. Another blow threw her off-balance. She fell overboard and landed in the waves. Chris’s fingers stayed wrapped around her hair, jerking her head.
Icy seawater rushed into her nose and mouth. He pulled her to the surface. Her head burned, and her cheek pulsed.
She gasped. Saltwater scratched her eyes and throat.
Chris seized her under her arm and hauled her onto the dock. He pinned her to the planks, her face on the wood, his cruel hands heavy on her spine.
“You stupid . . . piece of shit,” he spat breathlessly.
Grabbing her shoulders, he rolled her onto her back. He hovered over her. Blood ran off his chin with the rain, hitting her lips and cheek.
“You’re going to wish you died in that cave.”
Footsteps on the dock solidified her doom. The guy she’d hit with the log approached. He stopped inches from her face. She stared up at the two men through a dizzying vortex of rain.
Chris sneered. “She almost got away. As slow as she is stupid.”
Whack!
Chris’s foot slammed into the side of her head. Her vision waned and her ears rang. Pain exploded across her skull. She covered her face, but the next blow was to the stomach. All the air was forced from her lungs.
Another kick. Then another to her head.
All went dark.
Atlas stormed into the hotel room after Viper and slammed the door shut. He didn’t give a damn if they woke the whole fucking building.
Rogue got to his feet from the kitchen table, his eyes bleary and his hair mussed. Havoc glanced up from his laptop, a cup of coffee steaming next to him. Some of the tension in Atlas’s neck unwound.
He might be walking through hell, but he wasn’t alone.
Appreciation expanded his chest and emotion burned his sinuses. When all this was over, he’d find a way to thank them. To tell them how much their friendship and devotion meant. But right now, he couldn’t put the words together.
Neither Havoc nor Rogue knew Molly like he did. And if she didn’t mean as much to him as she did, they might not be working as hard as they were to find her. But he knew they sensed how important she was to him, and they had his fucking back.
“We need to look at Willy,” Atlas said, coming to stand next to Rogue near Havoc’s side.
Havoc smirked. “One step ahead of you.”
Atlas hiked up his eyebrows. “What do you know?”
“Jack shit right now,” Rogue grumbled. “But while Havoc traced the license plate, I did some digging into Dunne International Exportation.”
“And?”
“The place was under investigation a few years ago for falsified weights. A load was seized but no drugs were found. There’s no evidence of illegal dealings, but clearly they had something to go on.”
