Page 62 of Hurricane Love

“The fuck?” Wylie said, more to himself than anyone else. Even with the mask, he’d recognize that Fall Out Boy t-shirt anywhere, along with the tics that characterized the man himself. Cody Wallace. Fucking Cody Wallace had run up on them with a friggin’ ski mask and a gun. What the ever-loving fuck was going on?

“Hey, there. Take it easy.” Diego raised both his hands in a defensive posture and turned slowly to angle himself between Wylie and Cody. Meanwhile, Wylie’s mind was still racing at why the fuck Cody Wallace was attempting to presumably rob them wearing a piss-poor disguise.

“What’s up, man? What do you need?” Diego asked.

“I want your money,” Cody said, trying to deepen his voice and doing a bad job of it. For a moment, Wylie thought this might be a prank, some kind of sick joke, but Diego was taking the threat seriously, and the gun sure as shit didn’t look fake.

“Allright, we can do that for you. Just follow me to the register,” Diego said. He was the picture of calm, cool, and collected while Wylie was anything but. The only time Diego looked truly rattled was when Cody’s eyes shifted toward Wylie. “Eyes on me,” Diego snapped, getting both their attention with the authority of his voice. “I’m the one you want, not him. He doesn’t even work here anymore. You keep that gun on me.”

“Diego,” Wylie said, bald terror leaking through his voice.

“You get fired or something?” Cody asked Wylie, like it was any other day and they were just shooting the shit.

“I’m moving,” Wylie said bitterly, pissed that Cody was pointing a gun at the man he loved while he stood there, trapped by his own inability to do anything about it.

Cody nodded, seeming to accept the answer, and flicked the gun to indicate that Diego should proceed. Diego walked slowly toward the register, still with his hands raised by his ears. They were headed to where Wylie was usually stationed, the one facing the front of the house, thankfully empty at this late hour. Wylie should be the one doing this, not Diego.

Diego punched the No Sale button to open the register and quickly gathered up the bills. “There’s about two hundred dollars there,” he said and handed it over.

“That’s not enough,” Cody complained while stuffing the wad of cash in his dirty jeans. He had a restless, agitated look abouthim as his wild eyes darted around the restaurant. “Whaddaya got on ya?”

“Nada,” Diego said shortly and gave him a flat look.

“Fuck, man.” Cody knocked his temple with the muzzle of the gun. The gun jostled wildly in his hand, and Wylie tensed while hoping Diego was prepared to hit the deck if Cody accidentally blew his own brains out.

“There’s about seven hundred more in the safe,” Diego said, probably just to appease him, “but you’ll have to follow me to the office to get it.” Diego hadn’t used Cody’s name once, though he must surely recognize him. Was it intentional on Diego’s part, allowing the man to believe he might get away with this?

Cody glanced between Diego and the front door as if it were a trick, as if the cops might bust in at any moment. If only. They didn’t have a panic button at the pit, and Wylie hadn’t pulled out his phone either, first because he was confused about what the hell was going on, then for fear that Cody might use the gun. The three of them were the only ones in the building, trapped in this doom spiral of bullshit.

“Do you really want to do this?” Wylie asked Cody, thinking maybe he could reason with the man. Cody had shown up at the pit higher than a kite at times, but he’d always been reasonable before. That said, the gun was terrifying. And what a betrayal for Cody to pull this shit after all those free meals. That riled Wylie up all over again, and now he had to deal with Cody pointing that gun athisDiego. “I mean, seriously, man, what the fuck?”

“You don’t know my life, asshole,” Cody said with uncharacteristic venom as the gun swung back in his direction. Shit, he really didn’t love that. It triggered his fight-or-flight instinct, made him want to run at Cody full-on or throw something to distract him, then tackle him to the ground. “You think you know me? You don’t know shit.”

“Wylie,please, shut the fuck up,” Diego said, still in that calm, measured tone of voice, but there was a nervous strain to it too. “This is between you and me, right?” Diego said to Cody, tryingto reestablish the connection between them, deliberately drawing the danger away from Wylie. “Point the gun at me. I’m the one you have to worry about. I’m the only threat here.”

Cody’s wild eyes swung back toward Diego. The gun followed soon after, aimed directly at Diego’s chest. At this close range, it’d be a kill shot, for sure. Panic rose inside Wylie at the possibility that Diego might get hurt or worse. His need to act intensified and, as if sensing it, Diego said very intentionally, “Wylie Fox Sommers, don’t you fucking move. I’m handling this.”

Full name,Wylie thought. Diego meant it.

“Yeah,” Cody said, nodding along. “Stay right there, and don’t you fucking move or I’ll fuck you both up. I’m not scared to do it. Now, take me to the safe, and you better not try nothing.”

“I won’t, but you’ve got to stay chill, man, all right?” Diego said.

“Yeah, I’m chill. I’m chill as fuck. But I want that money.”

Cody waited for Diego to pass by him, and then followed him toward the back office where the safe was located with the gun trained on his back. Wylie, sweating and anxious, was rapidly running scenarios in his head. He could possibly rush Cody from behind, but he might startle and shoot Diego. Wylie could call the police, but what if they arrived while Cody was still there and this thing escalated into a hostage situation? What if Cody got scared and shot one or both of them? He wasn’t trying to be a hero; he just hated not knowing what Cody might do next.

“Goddamn.” Wylie swallowed, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a too-powerful drug. The two of them could take Cody, who was a hundred and fifty pounds at most, but there was the gun to consider, and clearly, Diego didn’t want to confront the man. Wylie took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Diego knew Cody better than him. He’d said that he had this under control, but what if he’d misjudged the situation?

Fuck.

The two of them were in the back office for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes. Diego returned,healthy and whole, and Wylie exhaled, eyes darting all over his body to assess him. Diego walked toward him slowly, hands raised, and gave him a slight nod that was probably meant to be reassuring. Cody was behind him, not even attempting to point the gun at them anymore. Instead, he was trying to count out the wad of cash in his hand.

Diego pivoted slightly to stand in front of Wylie, shielding him yet again from danger. Wylie wanted to push him aside and be the barrier between them, but he didn’t want to make any sudden moves.

“That’s almost a thousand dollars,” Diego said. “Now, take it and leave and don’t come back here again, you understand? Never again. You and me, we’redone.”

Cody glanced up at him, and even Wylie was intimidated by the coldness in Diego’s tone. The threat was implied. Diego wouldn’t let him off so easily next time. And what if Diego was alone then? Who would defend him? Not that Wylie had done much on that front. He’d totally frozen and panicked. Diego had been the one to protecthim.