“Where are you, Phantom?” he asked into the earpiece, looking for Wyatt and seeing him run through a set of double doors with Mimic next to him.
Fuck.
He wanted to keep Wyatt far from this mess, but it looked like Salt had a different idea, and he ran after them. An apron-wearing clerk was crouched behind the counter with his hands over his head, fear in his big brown eyes. “Go outside, hurry.”
The scared man nodded, Roman’s words cutting through the haze of adrenaline. He got to his feet and bolted in the opposite direction as Roman, the bell chiming behind him as he ran into the street shouting for help.
The double doors opened into a hallway lit by a row of fluorescent bulbs.
“Upstairs, living room. There’s two guys up here. Be careful.”
More gunshots rattled through the building. Roman took the staircase three steps at a time, unholstering his gun and clicking off the safety. The stairs left him in a small circular room, the door to Amelia’s apartment directly in front of him, thrown off its hinges.
Definitely not Phantom’s work.
Roman ran to the wall, pressing his back against it. He peeked over and spotted Wyatt and Mimic crouched behind a couch, Wyatt holding down a bundled-up T-shirt soaked with blood against Phantom’s wound. Meanwhile, Bang Bang stood in the center of the room framed by a window that looked out directly to the Eiffel Tower, both arms held out and raised, golden guns aimed at two Pride members. They also had their arms up and their guns aimed, outnumbering Bang Bang two to one.
This was bad, but it could be worse.
Bang Bang could take the shots and drop both men instantly, Roman was positive of that. He had full confidence in his best friend, knew that he could save the day. Even with being outnumbered. Bang Bang worked best under pressure, and this was pressure at its most extreme.
What Roman wasn’t counting on was Amelia trying to save the day herself. She jumped onto the back of one of the Pride men like a rabid cat, latching onto his shoulders and tugging at his hair, trying to drop him to the ground. It made it impossible for Bang Bang to shoot without potentially hitting her.
The distraction created an opening, the other man dropping to his knees and letting go of his gun, taking out a serrated blade from the inside of his boot, rolling forward.
He launched up, the blade aimed directly at Bang Bang’s throat. The man moved too quick, fluid in a way that appeared otherworldly. He rose like a vine ready to choke the life out of Bang Bang.
Roman wasn’t letting that happen. He lurched out of cover and took less than a second to aim, time slowing, stretching, his muscles taut as high wire, his eyesight sharp as a hawk’s.
He pulled the trigger. Bang.
Thud.
The man dropped like a bag of lead at Bang Bang’s feet.
Bang Bang gave Roman a wink and shouted, “Thank you,” before turning both golden pistols in the other man’s direction, Amelia still clinging to his back like a spider monkey.
“Drop and run,” Roman shouted, but Amelia wasn’t listening. She was reaching over the man’s shoulders to try and grab the gun. What the hell had gotten into her? “Drop!”
That seemed to cut through the chaos. She lifted her head and looked to Roman, eyes widening with fear as she realized the immense danger she was actually in. She fell to the ground. The man turned and kicked her, causing her to clutch at her stomach. He shouted profanities but kept the gun aimed at Bang Bang.
“Do you want to walk out of here in one piece?” Roman asked, taking a step forward. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wyatt trying to keep Phantom awake, slapping his face. The T-shirt pressed against his chest was soaked with blood. It didn’t look good. Roman knew he had to finish this quick if he wanted to get everyone out of here alive. “Then drop the fucking gun and run. Tell Leonidas what happened. Let him know this shit won’t be easy for him.”
The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. He lowered his gun and glanced at the door. Roman was giving this fucker a lifeline; would he take it? Make everyone’s life just that much easier? His eyes darted down to his dead buddy, blood still leaking from the hole in his chest.
“I’ve got a better idea,” the man said, a heavy Italian accent coloring his words. He spun around and grabbed Amelia. She tried to run but wasn’t fast enough, the man grabbing her apron strings and yanking her backward into his arms. He pressed the gun against her head.
“I’m going to get the page, and I’m going to make my boss happy. Now, where is it?” He held Amelia against him, crouching behind her so her body served as a shield. “Where is it!”