Him | Brooklyn Wyatt

Caught

Rye's pov:

I sat at the bar. I really hoped this disguise was going to work; I don't wear blonde wigs, lip piercings or sunglasses for nothing. I mean, I looked like a male version of Kesha. 

The guys were in the back, ready for anything that might take place. I had one job. Look out for anyone that looked suspicious. Which came quite easy when a random guy walked up to me. Well, I say random. It was the guy that was flirting with Ashley at the Olly Mur's concert. The one who Brook lunged himself at. The guy I kissed, joking around, obviously.

"Do you recognise this girl?" He said, pulling out a picture of Ashley kissing Brook, from the day of the concert. I should have known one of the fans would have caught a picture.

I turned to face him, hoping he didn't recognise me. "Oh, that b**ch? Yeah. She went round back about half an hour ago." I said, nodding my head over to the door in the corner of the pub.

"Thanks." The guy said, walking towards the back. Bingo! My disguise had worked and my plan, thank God, was coming through. I gave the phsycho a head start, before following after him.

Brook's pov:

Me, Jack and Mikey were stood in the back room. We were here to negotiate, but we'd snuck in a couple metal rods,just in case things got out of hand of course. I received a text message from Rye...

Rye: BINGO!!!

The plan was working. Or so we thought. The psycho burst into the room. It was the guy from the concert. The one who had kissed Ashley. But I didn't remember him from anywhere else. Why did he hate me so much?

The guys eyes widened as he entered the room. We'd caught him out. He just stood there. Time to put my game face on.

"Surprised?" I asked, smirking. "If I'm being honest, so am I. I was not expecting you to show up."

"You really don't remember me do you? O was one of the trialists for the band a few years back. You stole my spot. I'm here to get it back."

"So you threatened the guys who decide who joins the band?" Mikey cut in. "Smart move."

"You know?" I cut back in. "You nearly got me with those text messages. You really did do well at scaring my girlfriend too. But I knew that this was really between us and she didn't need to get involved. So I told Ashley to meet her friend at a different restaurant. That way, you'd see her leave the house and think she was still coming here, but really be unaware that we were the ones waiting for you when you turned up."

"Smart." The psycho said, nodding. "But not smart enough." He pulled out a gun. "You think you can get away with this. You stole everything from me. And you will pay. Like I said, I'm always one step ahead of you."

Seconds later, Rye appeared in the doorway. He smacked the phycho over the head with a wooden chair. "Or maybe...we're one step ahead of you." He said, breathing heavily.
Psycho fell to the floor, the gun skittered across the floor and his head hit the cold hard tile with a thud. Mikey leant over and grabbed the gun with a piece of paper he found laying on the floor.

I collapsed, my heart beating like crazy. We'd done it. I sat with my head against the dilapidating wall. I could finally stop worrying. Rye removed his wig and took out his fake lip piercing.

"Cool look." I said laughing. "It suited you."

Rye looked at me and threw the wig at my face. "I've called the police. They're on their way. Are you sure you're ok, though?"

"Yeah." I said nodding. "I almost pissed myself when he pulled out that gun. But I'm fine..."

After half an hour, the police had arrived and the psycho, who the police had identified as Simon Walker, was forced into the back of a police car.

"You did well boys." One of the officers claimed. "I'm just sorry you had to deal with it in the first place."

"No worries. We just wanted to make sure everyone was safe."

"I think this belongs to you." The officer said, handing me my phone. "Take care and stay safe, kid."

I sighed happily. I could breath again. I hopped into the back of Rye's car, smiling. Time to go tell Ashley. I ran into her apartment. I stopped dead in my tracks, looking at the kitchen counter. Blood?