Roman caught the attention of the least flustered employee. She pushed a curly strand of red hair off her slightly sweaty forehead and walked around the counter, apparently relieved she was thrown a life raft out of that conversation. “Hi, how can I help you two today?”
Roman tapped the name badge on his chest. “We’re here for an inspection. Shouldn’t take very long. We’ll just need to get any of the keys for the back rooms and such.”
Did Roman just throw on a British accent, or was that Wyatt’s imagination? Mimic definitely spoke with one, but Roman wasn’t as well versed in disguises as she was.
“Oh… we just had the inspectors here last week.”
Shit. They hadn’t accounted for that. And still, without missing a beat, Roman continued on. “We know, we got their report. There’s just a couple things we have to look over. That’s all.”
He flashed her that disarming grin of his, those starry green eyes crinkling at the corners, inviting her to say anything but no.
“Right, of course. Here.” She pulled out a set of jingling keys from a pocket in her apron. “Just bring them back to me. I’m the manager.” She shot an apprehensive look toward Mimic and the two other boys, who were slowly inching away from the increasingly angry famous woman who they’d never seen in their entire lives. “I should go handle that. Let me know if you two need anything else.”
She went back behind the counter, confronting Mimic in the way a lion tamer would—chest out and mannerisms set to larger than life in hopes of distracting some of her fury.
“I’ll start out here,” Roman said. They were both wearing blue T-shirts and khaki shorts, although the shirts were a different shade, and the shorts were different lengths (Roman’s being short enough to hug his muscular upper thigh). They still looked the part. All Wyatt had to do was rummage around and find the page; it shouldn’t be too difficult. Especially considering no one had started shooting yet.
“I’ll take the back rooms,” Wyatt said. He left Roman in the front of the store, searching underneath baguette baskets and behind some of the framed photos. The employees were far too busy putting out Mimic’s fire to notice Roman’s odd way of inspecting a bakery. Meanwhile, Wyatt disappeared through a set of double doors, walking into a hallway washed in fluorescent light, the white brick walls bare of any art or photos, instead displaying various workplace rules and policies. Wyatt took a right and entered the kitchens, greeted by three bakers, all working on separate stations.
He couldn’t imagine Amelia choosing the kitchen as a good hiding place, but he certainly wasn’t going to overlook it, either. He started to open the drawers and cabinets, finding nothing but baking dishes and supplies.
By the time he got to the refrigerator, he could already tell the bakers’ eyes were pinned to his back. They’d seen actual inspectors come in and out of the bakery, and Wyatt doubted any of them acted the way he was acting.
He turned and looked at the bakers, none of them looking very happy at the intrusion. “Looks like, uh, it all checks out. Thank you—blokes.”
Blokes? What in the “tea and crumpets” hell got into me?
He turned away from the confused bakers before any of them could spot the blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. This was why he enjoyed working with computers instead of people. Anything dumb he might write down in a code could easily be deleted and rewritten—not exactly so with actual conversations.
He scurried out of the kitchens and back into the hall. There were only a couple of doors left. Wyatt checked one and found a pristine bathroom, the scent of pine-scented floor cleaner drifting out after he closed the door. The next door was locked, so he grabbed the ring of keys and tried out a couple, not taking long to find the one that fit.
Behind the locked door was Amelia’s office.
This had to be where the page was hidden. Had to be. Wyatt looked over his shoulder and made sure there weren’t any prying eyes as he entered the office, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could manage. The paranoia was beginning to enter from stage left, no doubt affected by the fact that the last two parts of this job involved a lot of guns and blood. It seemed like they were ahead of the Pride on this one, but he couldn’t be completely sure of that. The only guarantee of getting out safely was moving quickly. The faster he got hold of the page, the sooner they could get back on a plane and be that much closer to the finish line.
Thankfully, Amelia hadn’t splurged much on her office. It was a small space with minimal decorations and furniture. Only a desk and a computer, with a tall and banged-up filing cabinet sitting next to it. Wyatt started there, going through every drawer and finding nothing but recipes and business documents.