Page 100 of Viper

He never should’ve left her. Not even for a second.

“Dude, you don’t look good.” Striker nudged his elbow.

Troy grunted. “Can he get here any faster?”

“Not unless he flies, and I don’t think that’s possible.”

He didn’t laugh at the joke. None of this was funny. He met Striker’s gaze and saw his own pain reflected there. Striker was a man who could put on a brave face in dire circumstances.

Until today, Troy had been able to as well.

“You just spoke with her,” Striker said. “She knows we’re coming. She’ll hang in there. You know it.” The assurance seemed to be as much for himself as it was for Troy.

He nodded because that was all he could do.

“Come on, lads,” Wraith said. “We need a plan.”

“Do we have an estimate on sunset?” Reaper asked, approaching. Havoc joined them as well. “I want to know if it’ll be dark when we reach them.”

Striker pulled out his phone. “Looking it up,” he murmured. “Shows sunset at 1940 hours.”

Troy flicked his wrist to check his watch. Half an hour away.

“Should be nightfall by the time we reach the yacht,” Havoc said. “Come on. Let’s get our equipment ready.”

The five of them made their way back to the parking lot and gathered around the trunk of Striker’s SUV.

Havoc reached in then passed each of them a Kevlar vest. “Probably won’t even need this. Five of us against one stupid motherfucker. There won’t be much of a shootout.”

Troy accepted the vest and fit it over his head.

“He could have help,” Striker said, as he suited up.

“Well, he shot the one and only person who was supposed to be his sidekick,” Troy mumbled. “Which tells us this guy is not only stupid—he’s a loose cannon.”

“For all we know, someone else shot him,” Reaper said curtly. He pulled a case from one of their tactical bags and passed everyone an earbud.

Troy fit the little device in his ear and called out a test, and each man confirmed his speaker and mic were in working order. He slipped two extra mags in his vest pocket—still not enough bullets for that sonofabitch—then strapped a holster fitted with a knife at his ankle.

“Ready.”

Sweat made his shirt stick to his back. The low roar of a boat’s motor reached his ears. His heart rate picked up. That’d better be their ride.

Striker checked his phone. “Boat will be here in less than five. Let’s get back to the dock.”

Havoc shut the trunk, and they all made their way through the trees and across the sand. The sound of the motor grew louder. Thankfully, there was no one else around. He didn’t want any witnesses.

Moments later, he reached the dock. His steps were heavy. He didn’t spare a glance at the bloodstain or the body floating beneath the planks. Spencer might have helped his stepbrother, but Troy wasn’t so sure he’d deserved the fate he’d been dealt.

Lettie and her son sure didn’t deserve to lose a husband and father.

Once Paige was safe and Craig handled, he’d make sure Spencer was respectfully returned to his family. Right now, the only important thing was Paige.

With his gun at his back, his mags in his pocket, and a knife at his ankle, he shifted into military mode. The tunnel vision it gave him was like a high.

A relief.

He wasn’t sitting and waiting for news anymore. He had everything he needed and now, it was time to bring Paige home.