The Sunset Job (The Rainbow's Seven 1)

“How do you like London so far?” Mimic asked over her shoulder.

“I’m legit thinking I could move here. And I’ve barely even seen any of it.”

Roman chuckled, reaching for Wyatt’s hand and taking it in his. “Maybe we can plan a leisure trip when all this is over. I want to show you around. London is one of my favorite cities, but so are the ones around it. Oxford is like a classic fairy-tale book, and the Cotswolds is dreamy, too. It’s basically a bunch of villages that stood the test of time.”

“There’s no comparison between this and my neighborhood back in Miami. Although I think I would miss my weekly dose of Publix subs if I moved out here.”

Roman squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you can find a suitable replacement.”

A red double-decker bus drove past them as they waited to cross the street, the bakery directly ahead of them. People were sat outside, eating their pastries and sipping their coffees, none of them aware of what had gone down hours earlier with the owner of their favorite bakery. Wyatt felt a pang of sadness reverberate through him. It wasn’t his fault or his doing that caused Amelia to lose her life, but he still couldn’t help but feel a thread of responsibility tying him to the death.

And now here they were, ready to walk into her bakery and steal something left behind by her son. Wyatt would need to be on his best behavior after this to make sure his karma leveled out.

“Alright,” Roman said, stopping them next to an entrance to the underground. A flurry of businesspeople filtered out with their suits and their briefcases, some of them heading toward the bakery for an after-work snack. “We have no idea where she’s hidden the page, so this makes things a little complicated. Mimic, were you able to get the paperwork and badges on the train ride over?”

She nodded and pulled a neatly folded paper out of her clutch. Opening it, she revealed it to be an inspection notice, along with matching name badges. Wyatt blinked in shocked surprise, once again astounded at Mimic’s ability to pull together believable covers for them.

“Perfect,” Roman said, grabbing it. “Wyatt and I will go in as inspectors, and we’ll search every single corner of the bakery while you go in as a high-profile and extremely demanding customer. Distract the employees while we snoop around.”

Mimic nodded, dropping her glasses to reveal a wink. “Bitch mode activated.” She turned and strutted down the street, lithe legs walking as gracefully as if she were putting on a ballet. A couple of men (and multiple women) tried to be subtle in checking her out but were given away by their slack jaws and drool trail they left in their wake.

“Ready, Salt?”

“Let’s do this.” Wyatt looked down at Roman’s name badge. “Lester.”

“Seriously, Mimic couldn’t pick a less attractive name for me.”

“Mine’s Giovanni. I don’t mind that.”

“Gio suits you. Lester, though? I feel like I should be cast in the next Addam’s Family reboot.”

“You could be the walking hand since you’re so good at using yours.” Wyatt shot him a wink. Flirting didn’t always come naturally to him, but he guessed that changed when the flirting was aimed at his boyfriend.

Roman chuckled, smiling wide as they crossed the street. “Or maybe a walking penis, since you seemed to enjoy that about me, too. Judging by how you were shouting, ‘Yes, Roman, please, please give me that big juicy co—’“

“Okay, I got the point. You have options.” Wyatt’s cheeks flushed pink, matching the rush of warmth that spread down his back and settled somewhere around his crotch. He tried to ignore the tightening feeling that worked its way into his core, focusing instead on the job at hand.

They entered the bakery, finding it very similar to the one located in Paris. The walls were smooth oak with expensive detailing, each of the displays well-lit and magically arranged, highlighting all kinds of tasty desserts and pastries. There was a photo wall in this bakery as well, but unlike the last one, every photo on this wall featured Amelia’s son, from the day he was born to the day he stood next to his mom at the opening of her Paris location. It was clear this bakery was made with the love of her son at the forefront.

Unfortunately, it was her son who kicked off the chain of events that would take both their lives.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I need this order filled by tonight. I have a dinner set with three Oscar-winning directors and ten of my good friends—you might have seen them walking Rihanna’s Fenty show.” Mimic had three employees cornered, all of them looking at each other with doe-like eyes, wondering who the hell was going to rescue them from this demanding and slightly unhinged customer.