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)
“Um, who’s this?” Mustang asked, lowering her sunglasses to look Theo up and down.
“I’m Theo Cupper. I’m here to help get your friends out of jail.”
She pushed her glasses back up. Mustang looked to Wyatt, and even under the shades, he could tell she was skeptical. “I’m Monica, but you can call me Mustang. Put on your seat belt.”
Before Theo could reply, Mustang had the car in drive and was peeling out onto the road, pushing all three of them into their seats as she accelerated out onto the Main Street.
Don’t worry, Roman. We’re coming for you.
Chapter 9
Roman Ashford
The day had come. Roman woke up at the crack of dawn, heart already beating like a hummingbird’s. He had no idea what was set to happen, but he didn’t need to. All he had to know was that Salt and the rest of the Rainbow’s Seven were coming for them.
Bang Bang didn’t seem as anxious. He went through his usual morning routine, consisting of reading the same pages of the People magazine that had been left in our cell to then completing a mini workout, finishing off his hundredth push-up with sweat beading his forehead and a pink flush coloring his forehead. Likely his cheeks, too, but his beard covered them.
They went to the showers, washed up, then made a lap around the yard and tried to pick up on some kind of sign as to what Wyatt was planning. There were three hours left until two, when Garret had mentioned to be out in the yard.
“Why?” Roman mused out loud as they went back into their cells, the door shutting and locking behind them. “Why do they want us out in the yard?”
“Maybe that’s where they’re parking the helicopter that’s taking us out of here, broki.”
Roman huffed a laugh. “That would be one hell of a rescue plan. I have a feeling it’ll be something a little more grounded.”
“Like?”
“Maybe they’ve got a way to bring down the fence. Pull up in a truck and pop us in the back. Mustang races out of here, and we disappear by the time the sun sets.”
Bang Bang gave an approving grunt. He sat down on the edge of the bed and cracked his knuckles. “Whatever it is, I’m ready for it. I want to get back to Doc, I want a Big Mac, and I want to see who the hell won this season of Drag Race.”
“I just don’t see how they’re going to get the guards to let us just, what, walk out?” Roman couldn’t wrap his head around it, and that frustrated him to no end. He enjoyed being in the know. He thrived when he had the reins in his hands, seeing every dip and curve in the road ahead. This was the complete opposite of that. All he had now was a time and place, barely enough to paint a full picture.
He just had to trust in Wyatt.
Bang Bang shrugged, as unsure of the future as Roman was. He was the kind of guy who liked going with the flow and didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the unknown as Roman felt. He tried to absorb some of that energy. Wanted to be as calm, cool, and collected as his friend was.
He wasn’t. Every second that ticked by until two o’clock felt as if it stretched into an unbearable eternity. A hundred different scenarios played out in his head. He wanted to be prepared for anything, sure of the fact that he’d get out of there. And then there was the possibility of the rescue going south, the rest of the Rainbow’s Seven getting caught and thrown behind bars.
That would be a situation impossible to win through any court system. They’d be locked up for life.
Every second felt like an eternity; every minute, a new fear sprouted up. He chewed through three nails and nearly rubbed the back of his neck raw. All the while, Bang Bang sat on the bed and appeared to be enthralled by the five different celebrity weddings laid out on the page in front of him.
Finally, two o’clock came.
And it went.
Five minutes passed. The door to their cell remained shut. Aimee was supposed to have come at two to open the door and let them out for recreational activities, and that was when Roman planned on heading to the yard. His mouth went dry, the bars of the cell door growing larger, squeezing them inward. Had something already gone wrong? Had he messed up somehow? Missed a message or fumbled a cue?
“It’s two ten,” Bang Bang said, no longer looking at the magazine. He stood next to Roman, anxious gaze on the clock.
They were caged rats, ready to chew at the bars until their teeth wore down to nubs and their gums were a bloody mess. If that’s what it took—fuck. What was going on? Roman felt helpless and trapped, a toxic combination of emotions that seeped into his lungs and stole his breath away.