The Sunset Job (The Rainbow's Seven 1)

“It’s not even in here,” Amelia said, loud enough to make the entire room freeze. “I moved it! It isn’t here—it’s with my son. You won’t find it. You won’t.”

“So you’re telling me you’re useless?”

Roman’s eyes widened. Bang Bang moved to his side, all three guns aimed at a terrified Amelia.

“I… I won’t tell you where it is.”

“Fine,” the man said. “Waste of time this was.”

Roman looked up, a dangling light fixture directly above them. If he could hit the chain that connected it to the ceiling, maybe he could cause a distraction big enough to save Amelia. He only had seconds to think, to weigh out his actions.

He took the shot, raising his gun and pulling the trigger. The bullet rocketed up toward the light fixture, skimming the chain and tearing through the ceiling, plaster and wood falling down where the light fixture should have been.

Roman missed.

Another shot blasted through the air, and Amelia cried out and fell. The man leaped to the side, jumping through a window. Bang Bang tried getting him, but he was too fast, already disappearing in the alley behind the bakery. Roman went straight to Amelia, turning her over, blood trickling down her mouth, her gaze empty of life. She was gone.

He dropped his head and whispered a “sorry” before closing her eyes and laying her gently onto the floor. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Fuck. Another leg of this job completely rat-fucked. Had it been a coincidence that the Pride was here at the same time they were?

In this business, Roman rarely believed in coincidences. Still—it didn’t really matter, not right then. He knew his next steps were to get Phantom safe and stabilized. He wasn’t losing anyone else today.

“Mustang, pull up the van. Doc, get ready to treat a gunshot wound.”

He ran over to the couch, squeezing a reassuring hand around Wyatt’s, his entire arm covered in blood.

It was worse than he thought. “Phantom, buddy, you’re okay. We’ve got you. Just stay with us, alright? Doc is going to make you feel brand-new.”

“Maybe she’ll even throw in a new nose or a little tuck under the chin for you, free of charge,” Bang Bang teased.

Phantom, whose normally bright honey-gold eyes appeared to be having trouble focusing, smiled. Roman took over applying pressure. He noticed Wyatt’s shoulders were trembling, but his face was stoic, courageous. Even with one of their own bleeding out on the floor, Wyatt still managed to hold his composure.

Proud didn’t even begin to cut it.

“Help me with his legs,” Roman said to Bang Bang. He motioned at the bloodied T-shirt. “Mimic, keep the pressure on while we move him. Salt, grab the doors.”

They moved like they shared one mind, keeping things as smooth as possible for Phantom. Every second mattered, though, so they couldn’t be too delicate. They hurried down the stairs and through the bakery, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Mustang waited outside, her eyes bulging when she saw the shape Phantom was in.

Doc waited in the back of the van, having already set up a space to work, a thin cushion placed for Phantom. They put him down gently and climbed in, Roman shutting the doors and Mustang peeling off as the police sirens grew louder.

“What the fuck happened in there?” Mustang shouted over the sound of the engine protesting.

Roman didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know. Once again, he’d led his own into the jaws of an ambush predator, the trap having been set without him picking up a whiff of it. And for what? They didn’t even have the page, nor did they know where it was.

“Hold this,” Doc said to Wyatt, handing him a suture set before she moved off the towel and examined the wound. She worked with the focus of a brain surgeon, her hands somehow staying steady even with the rattle of the racing van. She went into her indigo toolkit, grabbing a syringe and popping the cap off with her teeth. She injected the pain medicine into Phantom’s forearm, his expression instantly softening with the relief. She gently rubbed his forehead and whispered something in his ear.

“Is he going to be okay?” Wyatt asked, unable to keep the tremble from entering his voice.

“It’s a clean wound, entrance and exit. I’m scared with the amount of bleeding but have ways to help that.” She took out a pack of green and red herbs from the toolbox and set it gently against Phantom’s lips. “Chew on this,” she said before grabbing the suture kit from Wyatt.

“Should I tell Mustang to slow down?” Roman asked.

She shook her head. “No need. She can go faster if she likes.” And Doc got to work, suturing Phantom shut while the crew looked on, Roman plagued with thoughts of doubt, of anger, of “what the hell was this all for?”