His “security guard” stood with the gun now aimed at Roman. “I’m going to need that piece of paper.”
Chapter 14
Wyatt Hernandez
Roman shifted slightly so that the gun was aimed at him and not a trembling Wyatt. This wasn’t anywhere in the plans, a heart-stopping fear washing over him with the realization. Not only had he just shot and likely killed someone, but now he was facing the opposite end of the gun and had no idea what to do about it.
“Just give him the page,” Wyatt said through the pounds of sand that had been teleported into his mouth and throat.
“Listen to your boyfriend.” The man moved closer, pressing the pistol into Roman’s chest. Wyatt looked down, seeing the gun he used back in the holster on Roman’s hip. If he inched his hand a little to the left, he could graze his fingertips against the cold steel. But he’d have to be incredibly quick if he wanted to get off a shot without the man blowing Roman’s chest wide open.
Impossible. He couldn’t do it. His shoulders shook, and he tried to force them to still, making them tremble further.
“You’re working for the Pride?” Roman asked, paper still in his hand.
“I’m working for whoever pays the highest.” A manic glare entered the man’s beady black eyes. Wyatt knew this was the end. They had messed up, and it would cost them their lives.
“Did someone pay you to stand in front of the huntress statue in the gardens? With a gun aimed at my heart?”
“Someone paid me to shut you the fuck up.” The man drove a knee up and into Roman’s crotch, making him gasp and clutch at his stomach, the page still in his tight grip.
“Alright, fine. I didn’t want any more blood, but you forced my hand.”
A single gunshot blasted through the air. Wyatt shouted, looking to Roman and trying to discern where the bullet had entered. Maybe it was a clean wound, entrance and exit, through some nonvital part of him. Maybe… Roman wasn’t bleeding. He hadn’t been shot.
The man who’d had them cornered grabbed at his chest before his knees gave way. He collapsed at their feet, lifeless by the time he hit the ground.
Bang Bang’s voice echoed in Wyatt’s skull. “Thanks for the location assist, broki. Meet us out front? Mustang’s waiting.”
“We’ll see you there,” Roman responded, waving up at the window Bang Bang had just been at before stepping over the body and encasing Wyatt in a tight embrace. “Come on, Salt. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
A small part of Wyatt—the part that wasn’t dealing with a brain-numbing amount of shock—felt an electric buzz course through him at the use of his nickname. He smiled against Roman’s chest, allowing himself a second to soak in the man’s warmth before pulling away. Roman put the folded-up page into the pocket of his suit and grabbed Wyatt’s hand before they took off, running past the bonsai trees and the azaleas and the poppies, a blur of colors swishing behind them as they burst into the castle, falling directly into a chaotic scene. Terrified parents were shielding crying children, running for whatever exit was the closest, security guards having completely lost control of the scene.
Better for them, Roman and Wyatt easily blending into the tangle of party guests trying to escape. They flowed through the tapestry-lined hall and through the massive doors, out into the night air. Mustang smiled at them from behind the wheel of a ruby-red Mercedes, Bang Bang already in the passenger seat and drinking a dew-covered Corona.
Roman hurried to the door and opened it. Wyatt threw himself into the back of the car and fell against Phantom. Roman got in and completed the sandwich, the door slamming shut as Mustang slammed on the gas, the momentum pushing Wyatt back into the white leather seats.
“Did you get it?” Mustang asked, eyes piercing through the rearview mirror.
“I got it,” Roman said, taking the page out and lifting it in the air.
“Fuck. Yes. Party in the girls’ room tonight,” Mustang said as the boys gave celebratory hoots, Phantom reaching over and patting Roman’s leg. Wyatt was no longer shaking. Instead, he found himself smiling as they drove through the Spanish countryside, the entire ride full of them trying to out-sing the other and failing miserably.
The mood in the girls’ suite was purely celebratory, with loud music blaring through the speakers and four buckets of unopened champagne sitting in their ice baths, waiting for the group to finish drinking the one they were currently passing around, taking swigs directly from the bottle. Wyatt was last, the bubbly gold champagne going down like silk. He lifted the empty bottle to a room of cheers, Roman slapping him square in the back.
“We did it, gang,” Roman said over the clapping and cheering. “We just need to do this one more time, and then we grab the book and we have our entire lives changed forever.”