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They slipped into silence. Wyatt was trying to think ahead, trying to weigh out the different possible outcomes ahead of them. It was the kind of computer logic he was so accustomed to. If this happens, then that happens, which triggers this to happen. A logical chain of events that all made sense in the grand scheme of things.
Except none of this made sense, and none of it was logical. He had to instead rely on things like “hope” and “trust.” He had plenty of that in Roman and the Rainbow’s Eight, but he also understood that hope and trust were never a guarantee.
The boat pulled up into a small inlet, surrounded by tall palm trees and an overgrowth of bushes. A small slice of muddy sand squelched under Wyatt’s shoes as he jumped off the boat. His pulse pounded, his heart racing as fast as someone who just shotgunned ten Red Bulls. He didn’t let it show, though. The last thing he wanted right now was for Roman to have second thoughts about bringing him along.
“Alright,” Roman said, handing him a gun as Bang Bang and Phantom joined them on the beach. Mustang sat on the railing of the boat, looking out past the wall of palm trees. She, Doc, and Tor would need to stay back and be ready to get them out of there. Wyatt took the gun, the heavy weight of it in his hands not serving any kind of comfort. He didn’t like the idea of using it but knew it would likely come down to it.
“Everyone’s good on the plan, right? Phantom, you go in first. Bang Bang, ten minutes later, you infiltrate and go straight to where we think the tome might be. Salt, you’re with me.”
“We got this, brokis.” Bang Bang lifted one of his golden pistols up to his lips, planting a kiss on the barrel. “Anyone else want to kiss? For good luck?”
Wyatt cocked his head, pursed his lips. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Bang Bang laughed, pleased with his joke. He didn’t bother holstering the gun, taking out his other one instead and twirling them both on his fingers. Wyatt still wasn’t all that comfortable with guns and would have rather preferred it if they were all collected into a locked chest and dumped into the middle of the ocean. But he also understood that walking into this without any firepower would be a lethal mistake. It was an unfortunate reality that they had to work with, and he was at least glad that Bang Bang was on their side and not the other way around.
“Let’s do this.” Roman reached for Wyatt’s free hand and gave him a squeeze, whispering the words “I love you” to him before giving him a kiss.
Wyatt sucked in a deep breath. He followed behind Roman as he led them through a small trail that wound through the mangroves. Leaves and thick branches rustled against his head, grabbing at his arms and shirt, almost as if nature itself was telling them to turn back.
The trail continued for a short while, opening up onto a parking lot sandwiched between a seafood restaurant and a nail salon. They all concealed their weapons and tried to act cool, the four of them stumbling off the trail and into the crowded lot. According to their research, the service entrance to the hideout should have been close by. There was supposed to be a boat shed that had the entrance hidden inside it, but there weren’t any boat sheds in sight, and Wyatt felt like they were only getting further and further away from the water.
“We’re sure it’s this way?” Wyatt asked.
Roman nodded, looking around, his expression reading as someone who wasn’t exactly quite sure of much in that moment. Wyatt felt the pit in his stomach grow deeper. Every minute they wasted was a minute closer to Mimic getting her fingers chopped off. It wasn’t time to get lost. They didn’t have time.
Wyatt took out his phone and asked Roman for his. He connected them together through an app he already had on his home screen. He gave Roman back his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“What I should have done the second Leonidas sent that message.”
He pulled up the text, trying to not look at the image of Mimic, the fear in her normally confident eyes. He plugged in the text thread and went through a series of sketchy-looking interfaces before a box in the corner of his screen lit up bright green.
“This way,” Wyatt said, plugging in the address to his GPS. They exited the parking lot and walked down a street lined with small boutique shops, a couple of bars sprinkled through. A drag queen was giving a main-stage-worthy performance on the sidewalk in front of a gaggle of drunk gays, dollars being held out in abundance for the big-haired and sequin-covered queen.
