Selene shrugged, shaking her head slowly. “We knew this day was coming eventually. Knew we were living on borrowed time, but I truly hoped...believed that the Grand Master would…”
She didn’t finish. Instead, she looked down at the letter. “We have to be in Boston in two days.”
“Two days?” Luca looked back down the hallway where Oscar disappeared. “That would give us enough time—”
“Enough time to run,” Oscar said as he appeared at the far end of the hall. His shoulders were set, his stride a bit too fast. And he held one hand down at his side and slightly behind his thigh, hiding his hand.
Mayday, mayday!
Tate’s internal alarm sounded, the suspicion that things were about to be FUBAR all but confirmed.
He locked eyes with Oscar, and in the other man’s gaze, he saw desperation. The desperation of a man who was about to lose the people he loved.
Tate yanked Roman back and slid in front of him, barking, “RUN!”
“Oscar, what—” Luca started to ask.
Oscar raised his hand and fired the weapon he held.
Tate had a split second to act, but with Roman, who had not run, behind him, there was nowhere to go. He used that second to shove Roman, shouting “Run!” again, and then the two barbed projectiles from the Taser stuck into Tate’s chest and shoulder.
Tate’s jaw clenched as pain rocked through him, fueled by the electricity. He hit his knees, and had just enough brain cells left functioning to remember that Luca had, not all that long ago, used a modified stun gun-type weapon on Levi, which had resulted in a nice hospital stay.
A fresh arc of electricity seized his muscles and Tate face planted.
He didn’t quite blackout, but he couldn’t move and his ears were ringing.
“Um, that may not have been an excellent idea,” Luca said.
“I’m buying us time,” Oscar snarled, his voice retreating as he stepped over Tate.
“Oscar, where are you going? You better not tase my favorite cousin.”
Tate lay on the floor of the hall, unable to move. He could vaguely hear shouting from outside.
FUBAR. Short for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.
This mission was royally FUBAR.
Chapter Two
Scarlet had just closed the back door of the rental car after stowing the antique cake cutter and framed wedding photos of Oscar’s parents and grandparents—they were going to display them at the reception—when she heard shouting.
Shouting wasn’t good.
Roman and Tate were just supposed to hand over the letters, make sure that Oscar knew when the other two were supposed to be in Boston—the plan hinged on him following his lovers—and then get out of there.
That plan was Plan A. The Grand Master might not have had a Plan B, but Scarlet did. She always had Plans A through J at the ready. It was her first time planning a surprise wedding, but plans were her thing.
She’d been shocked and a little horrified when she realized that everyone didn’t constantly run through scenarios, create plans and backup plans, as a way to deal with life. In college, she’d been a decent student—planning how to get good grades was fairly straightforward—but she’d excelled at extracurriculars.
Nowadays, she planned events, symposiums, and music festivals. She didn’t panic if the power supply failed or a computer went down or a band cancelled because she had at least one plan that accounted for that.
She crept to the corner of the pretty white farmhouse and peeked around the corner. She’d need more information about what was causing the yelling before she could decide which of the backup plans she needed to activate.
Roman, who normally looked calm, cool, and reserved in a way that she was sure meant he probably had some seriously weird sex kinks—okay, that might have been wishful thinking—was racing toward her. Oscar Hayden—easy to identify since she knew Langston and the men really were identical—was right behind him, holding a bulky-looking gun in his hand.
Scarlet froze, and her brain short-circuited, because this...this she didn’t have a plan for.
No one had said it explicitly, but it was clear that Tate had been selected as the third person for this mission because Oscar might react badly to not receiving a letter. Tate was here to make sure Roman didn’t have a black eye in the wedding pictures.
She, of course, had accounted for the possibility that Tate might not be able to block a punch in time. She had a box with stage makeup tinted for Roman’s skin tone in her event boxes back in Boston.
But she didn’t have a plan for how to handle it if Oscar literally shot the messenger...messengers?
Where was Tate?
Roman spotted her and waved one hand, his legs pumping as he ran. “Start the car!”
Selene Tanaka—Scarlet knew almost everything about the woman, including her measurements and shoe size—was racing after Oscar.
“Do not tase my favorite cousin!” Selene shouted.
Tase, not shoot. Better.
Still, there wasn’t a plan for Tasers, either.
Scarlet backpedaled for the car and yanked the driver’s door open. A second later, Roman rounded the corner and was sprinting for the passenger side.
“Tate?” she yelled.
“They got him. Oscar is nuts,” Roman panted.
“Hey! Don’t talk about him like that.” Selene was fast, and she had gained on Oscar, so the two of them came around the corner of the house at the same time.
“Who the fuck are you?” Oscar demanded, looking at Scarlet. “Wait, I don’t give a fuck.” He raised the Taser, pointing it at Roman, who yelped and leapt through the air toward the passenger door.
“Wait,” Selene snapped. “Hold on, Oscar. A third person…”
His hand lowered. “Oh.”
Selene looked at her, and Scarlet resisted the urge to yelp in fear.
“Do you have a letter for Oscar?” Selene demanded.
“No,” she stammered, and then Plan D, which accounted for her being seen but not getting caught breaking into the parents’ house snapped into place. “I was just supposed to pick them up at the airport and bring them here since I know Charleston.” The lie came easy because she had planned for this. The phrase was at the ready, filed mentally under What to say if they see me.
“Damn it,” Selene breathed. She turned to Oscar. “I can’t believe the Grand Master would do this to us.”
“I can. She’s a stone-cold bitch.”
Scarlet was pretty sure that the Grand Master herself would agree with that. She probably had that nickname embroidered on her underwear.
Selene licked her lips. “We run?”
Oscar nodded. “We run.”
Selene sighed. “Okay. Tase her.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Scarlet shook her head. “Don’t tase me.”
“Roman’s the bigger threat,” Oscar grumped. “I only grabbed two cartridges for this thing, and I already used one on Tate.”
“First of all,” Selene said. “Assuming that my cousin, who is an accountant, is a bigger threat is misogynistic of you. I expected better, Oscar.”
Oscar softened, turning to her. “Baby, I didn’t mean it like that—”