Wylie #4
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’re done.”
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 protect him.
Cody nodded sharply, glanced around erratically once more, then muttered, “Sorry ‘bout this, man,” before darting toward the back door, crashing into something on his way out and leaving as suddenly as he’d arrived.
After a beat of silence, Diego took a deep breath and headed in that direction.
Wylie followed hot on his heels. They scanned the back lot for any sign of Cody or anyone else, then Diego closed and locked the door behind them.
“Holy shit,” Wylie uttered.
“You okay?” Diego approached and grabbed his arms, rubbing his goose-pimpled skin as if to warm him up. He was shaking, he realized, and not from the cold.
“Yeah, just, what the hell? Cody?”
“Not his finest moment,” Diego agreed.
“And a gun? Where did he even get it?”
“I don’t know.” Diego seemed more disappointed than angry. “We need to call Frank and the cops, file a report, give a statement.”
“Yeah,” Wylie said, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.
All he’d wanted was make out with his boyfriend–sorry, his casual friend whom he loved and adored–and eat a fucking sandwich.
He was still trembling with unspent adrenaline when Diego pulled him into his arms to rub his back and whisper words of comfort.
“You’re okay. We’re both okay. And it’s over now. All right, sweetheart?” Diego said soothingly.
“Yeah, I know. He just…came out of nowhere. He pointed a gun at you, Diego.” Tears brimmed in his eyes. That shit had been scary as fuck.
“Not a great way to end the night.”
“How are you so calm about this?” Wylie asked, pulling away to stare at the man in astonishment.
Diego shrugged. “Guess I learned how to deal with that sort of thing in prison. How to de-escalate or else get ready to fight back. Seemed easier in this situation to give him what he wanted.”
“You didn’t want to fight him?” Wylie asked.
“I didn’t want him to pull that trigger.”
“Yeah.” It could have gone very badly, indeed.
The fact that Diego seemed hardly even fazed by the threat to his life was a reality check as to just how different their lives had been up until that point.
“You saved my life,” Wylie said, and he wasn’t even exaggerating.
Diego gave him a skeptical look, so Wylie continued, “You did. You fucking handled that shit. I was about to run my mouth and get us both killed.”
“I don’t think Cody would have shot us,” Diego said mildly, giving the man way too much credit.
“He might’ve. He looked pretty high.”
“Yeah. What a dumbass.”
“Are you going to identify him?” He knew the two of them had been tight at one point, but he didn’t know how deep that loyalty ran.
“I have to. He threatened someone I love.”
Wylie blinked, broken apart by the tenderness in his eyes and his delivery, like it was common knowledge. What was Wylie supposed to do with that? Words of affirmation and life-saving acts of heroism were his love languages. Diego had rendered him speechless, yet again.
Diego grabbed his shaky hand and brought it to his lips. “Come on. Let’s get this over with and then we can go home.”