Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
They turned a corner and nearly fell all over each other as Wyatt came to a complete stop. The boat shed was ahead of them, a small waterway winding past it and leading out into the ocean. But that wasn’t what made Wyatt freeze.
It was the man standing against the doors to the boat shed with a hand casually relaxed on his waist, a small bulge underneath his flowy pink shirt revealing the concealed weapon.
Before they could turn around, the man with the pink shirt and lion’s claw necklace cocked his head and pointed toward them. “This area’s off-limits.”
Shit, shit, shit. This was supposed to be an unguarded entrance into the hideout, but apparently, Leonidas had been expecting something and upped the security.
It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t game over, either.
Chapter 27
Roman Ashford
Shit. This entrance was supposed to be unguarded. Roman had to play his cards right, or this heist/rescue mission hybrid would fail before it even began.
“Sorry, sir, we’re just looking for the drag brunch. Do you know which way it is?” Roman took a few steps forward with every word, trying to appear as oblivious as possible while keeping his wits high. He saw every micro-movement the guard made, every twitch of his upper lip and every subtle move of the hand over his hip. The lion’s claw necklace hung tight around his neck, almost like it was meant to be choking him.
“There’s no drag brunch here. Turn around.”
“You sure?” Roman was only a few feet away from the man and the boat shed. Bang Bang, Salt, and Phantom all stood back where they had originally stopped. Roman didn’t have to turn around to know that Bang Bang was ready to cover him with a bullet to the guard’s forehead if things went south.
“Very. Turn the fuck around.”
“The GPS led us here. Let me show you.” Roman made a show of reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. Except when he took his hand out, it wasn’t his phone he was holding but instead a small and lethally sharp blade. He lunged forward and snapped his free hand around the guard’s wrist, twisting the arm up and away from the gun, pulling the man directly against his body in a lightning flash of a moment, the blade held against the man’s throat.
Roman knew he didn’t have a choice. This was a matter of life or death for Mimic, and that balance had to teeter toward death for those holding her. He made a quick and fluid motion as he pressed downward, slicing the blade across the man’s throat.
Any struggle left inside him hissed out of him with his last breath, wet with blood.
Roman laid him down. He cleaned the blade on the man’s shirt and closed his eyes, placing it back in the hilt and into his pocket. He looked to see Phantom already going inside the boat shed, coming back out moments later.
“Does he have a key on him?”
Roman crouched back down. He looked inside one pocket, finding nothing but a wallet and a nearly empty bottle of hand sanitizer. He shifted the dead man, blood darkening the dirt around his head, and looked inside the other pocket. He hated this feeling, rooting around someone’s lifeless corpse, but thankfully, he didn’t have to do it much longer. In the other pocket, he was able to find a simple black key card, heavy with how thick it was. He handed it to Phantom, who slipped back inside and didn’t return this time.
“I’m in, Roman. I’ll be quick.”
“And safe, please.”
“You got it, boss.”
Wyatt stood angled away from the body, looking out the way they had come. He was making a good show of being a lookout, but Roman wondered if there was more to him needing to look away. He went to his side, making sure there wasn’t any blood on his hands before he reached for Wyatt’s.
“I had to do it,” Roman said. “He would have set off an alarm.”
“I know, I know.” He took in a deep breath. A long curl of light brown hair fell across his forehead, catching the sunlight and turning it into something closer to pure gold than hair. His symmetrical freckles seemed fake, but Roman knew better. He’d examined those freckles up close, kissed each one, tasted the skin underneath.
A sudden urge to protect Wyatt at all costs entered him. He nearly told him to go back to the boat and to wait with the others. This was too dangerous, too risky. He wanted Wyatt as far from the action as possible.
But before he could even begin that argument (because Wyatt definitely wasn’t going back without a fight), Phantom’s voice buzzed into his earpiece. “Found her.”
Roman and Wyatt both squeezed their hands, and Bang Bang pumped the air with a closed fist.