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)
“Let’s get this heist started,” Roman said, unable to stop himself from kissing Wyatt one more time. And one more time after that.
And another after that.
Chapter 16
Wyatt Hernandez
Turned out sneaking into a secret hideout wasn’t as simple as hopping on the quicker flight and taking an Uber up to their front door. After everyone dried up from the pool and finished off their champagne, Roman gathered them in the living room, where he already had a plan whipped up. Wyatt sat on the couch next to Phantom, watching in awe as Roman weaved an entire heist seemingly out of thin air.
It wasn’t simple, but it was possible.
First, Theo and Wyatt were to hack into the security systems and figure out what was and what wasn’t being surveilled. With the blind spots marked, they’d have an easier time sneaking around the house and grabbing the tome—if it was there.
But that was only one facet of the plan. Roman was making sure they weren’t caught with their pants down again. He asked Mimic to get them three disguises with wigs and prosthetics that would completely alter their appearance, along with three shirts that showed they worked for the same cleaning company. Roman said he had a feeling the Pride wasn’t taking care of that mansion on their own, and what better way was there to snoop around than under the guise of someone having to get into all the nooks and crannies of a home.
The flight back to Miami was a calm one. They flew private, taking up a couple of the middle aisles on the luxurious plane. None of them were about to go through security to get onto a commercial flight, not with Roman’s and Bang Bang’s faces on every wanted list around the country. Tor was already working on erasing any signs of the two on whatever lists they landed on, along with any images and surveillance footage that may have captured their faces. It was a long process and likely wouldn’t be completed for another few weeks, so they’d need to lay low until then.
Wyatt tried to help but realized he was—once again—out of his league. He left Tor hunched over three different laptops at the back of the plane and went over to where Roman sat, looking out the window at a sea of puffy white clouds. Wyatt sat down and got about an hour of sleep when he laid his head on Roman’s shoulder. He spent the rest of the time watching dumb reality shows he’d downloaded onto his iPad, sharing the headphones with Roman so he could watch and comment on the ridiculous antics.
“So if one of those guys wants to win a date with her, they have to Jell-O wrestle for it?” Roman asked before tipping the tiny pretzel package into his mouth and getting all the crumbs out.
“Yup.”
“How do you know they aren’t trying to win dates with each other?”
“Some probably are. There’s thirteen of them—odds are a couple are more interested in each other than the girl. And that’s fine. As long as I get to watch them wrestle in a tub of Jell-O for it, then I’m happy.”
“I’m sure you are,” Roman laughed, rubbing Wyatt’s leg and kissing the side of his head.
The second they landed, it was go time. Mimic had their disguises waiting for them at the airport, while Mustang had a ride already arranged. They hopped into the black truck, its windows tinted a midnight black, and prepared for the heist with Mimic applying the prosthetics with the expert hand of a professional makeup artist, even with the potholes they had to drive over. By the time she was finished, Roman and Wyatt were unrecognizable. They both had noses that were double their normal sizes, with protruding chins and more prominent brows. The glasses Mimic handed Wyatt completed the look.
“This is wild,” Wyatt said as he looked at his reflection in the hand mirror. “I can’t recognize myself.”
“That’s the point,” Roman teased.
Mimic then got to work on her own face, having completely changed by the time Mustang pulled up to their cover van: a beat-up thing with a sun-chipped hood and a faded sign that advertised a long-gone cleaning service.
“This is what you got?” Roman asked as they got out of the truck and walked over to the van. They were under a bridge near the main turnpike that led into Miami Beach, the heat not as dry as Palm Springs but still just as draining. “Is anyone on Hammerhead Island getting their homes cleaned by someone driving this junkyard find?”
Mustang shrugged, handing over a set of keys. “It’s all I could find on such short notice. We could stop at a FedEx and try to print a new sign?”
“No, that’s fine. It’ll have to do.” Frustration slipped into Roman’s tone. Wyatt could tell that the stress was beginning to mount. This wouldn’t be easy, nor was success guaranteed. They were walking directly into the lion’s den, and the danger was real. If one of them got recognized or slipped up somehow, then they’d be surrounded by Pride members who would be rewarded quite handsomely if they delivered their heads to Leonidas.