“And how will we do that?” Mustang asked, arms crossed against her chest, covering the band logo on her T-shirt.
“We have an important inside connection at the museum.” Roman’s gaze turned to Phantom, who had a bandage wrapped around his chest, a backward cap thrown on his head with a matching pair of black sweats. “Phantom’s sister, Alecia, works as one of the museum’s curators. She should be able to walk us right up to the tome. We’ll be going in during the middle of the day, when the museum is busiest. Salt, you’ll need to get into the system and throw the cameras on some kind of loop, along with knocking out the alarm system so we can get out clean.”
“Got it,” Wyatt said, feeling a surge of adrenaline flood through him. It sounded easy enough but entirely depended on just how much of the museum’s budget had gone to cybersecurity. Wyatt assumed just about as much as what went into landscaping.
“Then we turn to Phantom’s sister. She likely won’t be able to open the glass and take out the tome without security saying something, so Mimic and Bang Bang, you two will create a distraction up front. Draw security to you.”
They both nodded, the two sharing an almost comical fist bump, Bang Bang’s fist eclipsing Mimic’s.
“Of course, we need to consider the Pride, since they’ve seemed to predict almost all of our moves. Everyone needs to be armed and ready. We want to do this quietly, but if it gets loud, then it gets loud.” Roman clicked through some photos of the museum, showing various entrance and exit points, highlighting areas that could serve as ambush spots, blind spots. He appeared to be covering nearly every base, but Wyatt could tell there was still some opaqueness to his information and directives. He wasn’t giving the exact time or day of their operation and dodged a couple of questions from Doc about his thoughts on how the Pride knew their almost every move.
Wyatt understood—he could sense the subtle suspicion that undoubtedly slipped into Roman’s consciousness. It may not have been the best time or place to express that, but Wyatt could sense it regardless.
And so could the others. The mood soured after Mustang made an icy comment about the lack of trust Roman was showing. “We’ve been through way too much shit for you to be playing this game, Roman.”
“I’m not the one playing a game here. The Pride has their ears on what we’re doing, and part of my job leading you all is keeping you all safe, and that means making sure the Pride can’t hear shit. I’m not hiding anything vital to—”
“You’re not even telling us the day, Roman.” Mustang’s voice raised slightly. Mimic put an arm around her shoulder, but Mustang shook it off. “Trust is what drives me, and to know you don’t trust us is like a slap across the face. None of us here would work with Leonidas, like come on now. How can you even insinuate something like that.”
“Shh, baby, it’s okay.”
“No, Mimic, it’s really not. Do you like the suggestion that you’re working with someone as monstrous as Leonidas? Huh? No, I didn’t think so. How about you, Bang Bang? Phantom? Doc?” She turned to Wyatt, his mouth drying as if she dumped a bag of sand into it. “Salt?” He didn’t respond, didn’t even blink. He could feel her anger rising and was scared that this might all somehow unravel, right when they were about to cross the finish line.
“None of us are working for that fucking shitbag.” Mustang stood, fists bundled at her sides. “And the fact that you think so fucking hurts.”
Roman was about to speak but was cut off by a furious Mustang. “You all can call a fucking Uber. I’m out.”
She stormed past Roman, disappearing through two ocean-blue double doors, leaving the rest of the Rainbow’s Seven in a stunned kind of silence, only broken by the rustle of clothes as Mimic stood and followed Mustang’s smoke trail.
Chapter 26
Roman Ashford
This was the last thing Roman needed before going to steal the tome. He needed his crew working like a fine-tuned machine, well-oiled and efficient. Any cracks in their foundation could easily spread, turning what he previously assumed to be concrete into quicksand. Mustang’s anger could spread like a virus, ratcheting up tension and weakening the bonds between them.
He couldn’t have that. Roman needed to be a leader; he had to talk to Mustang and get her to see his point of view.
It was late, but some sunlight still clung to the evening sky, giving the aquarium an odd twilight-zone kind of feel. He walked past the empty cafeteria, through Amphibian Alley, where the ribbits competed with the crickets, past the Seal Sea, where a couple of night keepers were currently having a mini training session with a few seals, none of them acknowledging Roman as he continued on.