It was clear to Wyatt that he didn’t get the page. Even though years separated much of their relationship, he could still read the emerald-eyed man like his favorite book, spine worn and pages dog-eared.
“You guys are up,” Roman said, pulling out a bistro chair and sitting down. “She flipped when I said the phrase.”
“What, why? What happened in there?” Mimic asked. She wore a short blonde wig that had silver streaks through it, wearing fake turquoise glasses that matched with her slightly gaudy turquoise necklace. Wyatt had only known her for a short amount of time but still managed to be struck by how easily she could transform herself, this artsy and slightly kooky wedding planner worlds away from the raven-haired and effortlessly stylish Mimic who carried herself like a resurrected queen.
“Someone was here already. She said he came late last night and told her the phrase but that it was off by a few words. When she wouldn’t give him the page, he pulled out a knife on her and tried to take it by force. A pair of police were walking by the bakery just then, and he got scared, ran off.
“She told me that she’ll be destroying the page tonight, that she doesn’t want anything else to do with it or her dead son’s games.”
“Damn it,” Phantom said. “Not great.”
“And it gets worse.”
Wyatt sat up, unsure of what else could go wrong.
“She said that the man wore a necklace with some kind of claw hanging off the end. The Pride’s been here.”
Bang Bang dropped his head into those big bear paws of his, a collection of different rings shining on his fingers. Phantom let out a high-pitched whistle.
“Yeah,” Roman said. “My feelings exactly. Thankfully, they weren’t able to get the page, so we’ve got that going for us. Now it’s up to you three. Good luck.” He reached under the table and squeezed Wyatt’s knee. The physical contact in front of the others may have unsettled Wyatt earlier on in this adventure of theirs, but he was beginning to warm up to it. Want it. Give it back in return.
He put his hand on Roman’s and squeezed. A way to tell him “he had this” even though he wasn’t entirely sure he did. Flashes of their last gunfight in the midst of the Spanish elite came rushing back in, creating a tremble in his shoulders that he worked hard to suppress.
“Ready, boys?” Mimic asked.
Bang Bang and Phantom both nodded, Bang Bang reaching across the table for Wyatt’s hand and shooting him a wink. “Let’s go, hubby.”
“You’re not hubbies just yet,” Roman reminded him, a sliver of something resembling jealousy narrowing his eyes. It quickly faded, replaced by a glint that was enhanced with his growing smile. “Don’t forget your chocolate croissants. I wasn’t able to get them.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bang Bang said with an eye roll. The three of them stood and walked into the store, the door closing just enough for Phantom to slip in behind them without the bell ringing.
Wyatt was instantly impressed (and hungry) at seeing the assortment of baked goods, all made as if they were plucked straight from the cover of a food magazine. The displays were bordered with gold that matched the gold ceiling. Mimic walked the two hand-holding men—Wyatt’s smaller hand getting lost in Bang Bang’s—directly to the counter, where she spoke in fluent French to the smiley guy in a flour-dusted apron. She explained to him that her clients came from two very influential political families and their wedding was set to be a grand affair, except it was also on very short notice. She needed to speak with Amelia about making a cake under a very tight timeline.
There was some pushback from the man, his smile slowly fading as Mimic persisted. Wyatt couldn’t understand a lick of what they were saying, but he could read body language, and the story that was being told with stiffening shoulders and tightening lips wasn’t a good one.
He took that moment to look around the store again. There were a couple of framed photos showing the opening of the bakery, along with her standing in front of another location, pointing up to the name of the bakery: Remy’s Sweet Treats. It was a nicely arranged set of photos with a tray of sugar-dusted pastries in front of it. He took a picture, wanting to have some photographic evidence of all the cool places he’d been to. Julie would want to see it when he got back home; she loved going through travel photos with him.
The pretty frames and mouthwatering tarts weren’t all Wyatt noticed.
Phantom’s gone.
The ghost must have already walked through the walls. Wyatt wasn’t sure how, considering that the entrance to Amelia’s upstairs apartment was in plain view of the entire store, but he was grateful nonetheless. The sooner Phantom got up there and dug around, the quicker they could grab the page and get the hell out of there.