Chapter 25
Three days in China and the weight of everything was beginning to press down on him like the smog that clung to the city’s skyline.
The Guangzhou Opera House gleamed like a fractured crystal against the haze, its avant-garde curves blending into the landscape like it had grown out of the concrete itself.
Voodoo moved through the main atrium with practiced ease, eyes scanning everything, ceiling beams, exits, shadows pooling behind sleek modern columns.
His boots echoed against the polished stone floor, every step a reminder that beauty didn’t cancel out vulnerability.
He’d learned his lesson from the Baku incident, refusing to ever wear those too shiny tux shoes again, hence the boots.
Did they look ridiculous with his tux? Absolutely.
But at least he had a reliable place to stash his knife.
To ensure the Opera House’s security remained uncompromised, he diligently circled the building inside and out, meticulously verifying the functionality and proper implementation of all security protocols.
The building was an architectural marvel.
Glass and steel wrapped around the performance hall like armor, but Voodoo knew better. Nothing was impenetrable.
As he turned toward the corridor leading behind the stage, the low hum of stagehands and distant tuning instruments drifted to him. Savannah would be out here soon, center stage, every spotlight on her.
And he’d be in the wings—her silent shield.
He pressed two fingers to the comm in his ear. “Haley. You there?”
A breath, then, “Yeah. Barely slept. You owe me a week on a beach after this.”
“You hate the sun.”
“Then you owe me a week in a windowless bunker with caffeine on drip.”
He smirked. “That I can do. Any luck tracking the source of the video?”
“Not directly. But someone else is sniffing around the same trail.” She paused.
That wiped the grin from Voodoo’s face. “Jester?” They’d delt with the anonymous hacker before. Haley still couldn’t figure out how he manages to get through her firewalls every time. But when he does, he leaves behind useful information.
“He break through your firewall again?”
“Like it wasn’t even there,” she muttered, and Voodoo could hear the exasperation in her voice. “The thorn in my ass. He messing in my sandbox again—left a file drop with no traceable IP and a smiley face wearing sunglasses. Jackass.”
“We really need to find this guy,” Voodoo mused.
“I know. But he’s faster than a caffeinated ferret with a VPN.”
Voodoo chuckled—but it didn’t last. “So, what’d he give us?”
“Classified Chinese documents. Guess who signed a backchannel trade agreement with a Chinese state-owned energy giant three years ago?”
Voodoo leaned against the wall. “Don’t say it.”
“Senator McNabney. It was supposed to be an ‘exchange of cultural and energy cooperation,’ but it was a front. The real deal was Chinese surveillance tech in exchange for exclusive drilling rights in Central Asia. It was handed off to another party, another deal. And guess who those surveillance systems were tested on?”
His stomach clenched. He started walking again, making his way outside. “Dissident groups. Journalists.”
“Bingo. One of the pilot programs targeted an underground university in Azerbaijan that taught uncensored history. The campus disappeared. Literally.”
Voodoo’s hand tightened around the comm. “This is bigger than we thought.”
His instincts flared. Across the alleyway, two men stood too still, too tense. Not part of the crew he’d already identified. One of them tapped at his ear and nodded.
“Haley. Two untagged assets at my twelve. Not security. Weapons under their jackets.”
“Cameras show two more at the loading dock. A team?”
“Possibly. What’s their purpose?”
“Running facial rec.”
He was about to respond when movement caught his eye. Tomas Esposito, one of the sound engineers from Savannah’s tour crew, stepped out of an employee door and made his way to the unsubs. They stood in hushed conversation, and their posture wasn’t casual. It was tactical.
Voodoo didn’t hesitate.
He moved quickly, sticking to the shadows, coming around the opposite corner.
As soon as Tomas spotted him, the others scattered like cockroaches.
One vaulted a railing, another disappeared down a maintenance stairwell.
Tomas raced to the door he’d left propped open.
He attempted to let it shut behind him since it would lock immediately, but Voodoo was faster.
He grabbed the heavy steel door before it could slam shut and hurled himself through the opening, bursting into the narrow service hallway beyond.
Voodoo rounded a corner just in time to see the man duck down another hall. He pushed harder, lungs burning, boots pounding. Tomas charged ahead. Straight toward the dressing rooms.
Straight toward Savannah.
“Son of a—” Voodoo was already in pursuit.
Tomas shoved past startled stagehands and barreled through a curtain, sprinting down the back hallway. Voodoo closed the distance fast, adrenaline sharpening every step.
Tomas burst through the dressing room door. Voodoo heard a startled squeak from Savannah. Quick on his prey’s heels, Voodoo surged into the room as Savannah staggered back in a flowing green gown, eyes wide. Tomas sprang toward her, reaching for her arm.
Voodoo didn't hesitate; he launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground with a grunt. Tomas flailed, moaning as Voodoo drove a knee into his gut. He heaved, muscles straining, trying to throw Voodoo off, but there was no way he was going to get the upper hand on a SEAL.
He slammed his elbow into Tomas’s temple. The man crumpled to the floor.
Voodoo climbed off the man and kneeled to cuff Tomas’s wrists with a zip tie he always kept on him.
“Sawyer?” Her voice trembled.
“He was coming for you.” His tone was steel, gaze not leaving the unconscious man. “You okay?”
She nodded slowly, but her face was pale. “Is that Tomas?”
“Yeah. Supposedly one of us,” Voodoo muttered. “Or so we thought.”
Haley’s voice crackled in his ear. “I lost the others. Got pics, though. Working on IDing them.”
“We’ve got a mole on the tour. Tomas Esposito.”
“I’ll get SYBIL digging,” she said.
The moment Tomas was restrained, Voodoo’s instincts shifted from the heat of action to the protective calm he’d learned to master in combat zones.
He rose, closing the door to the dressing room and flipping the old-school bolt. Savannah stood in the center of the room, one hand pressed to her chest. Her gown shimmered like emeralds, but her expression was pale and shell-shocked.
“Hey,” Voodoo said, crossing to her, his voice low and solid, and pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe.”
She nodded, eyes flickering to the unconscious man at their feet. “He . . . he was always so quiet. Kept to himself. I thought he was just awkward.”
“Breathe, Savi,” he said softly, tucking her head under his chin. “He didn’t touch you. He didn’t get close.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t fine. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, eyes fixed on the man crumpled near the door. “Because of you.” Her voice cracked. “Again.”
He didn’t respond with words. Just kept her tucked against him, let her fist his lapels in her hand.
Let her ground herself anyway she needed.
She was trembling. That quiet, almost imperceptible kind of shake that came not from fear, but from the recognition of it.
From realizing just how close she’d come to something horrible.
He knew, because he felt it himself. That had been close. Too close. If Tomas had had a weapon and used it . . . he didn’t even want to think of the outcome. It didn’t happen and it never would. He’d see to it.
Tomas groaned at their feet.
The trussed up man stirred, his wrists straining against the zip tie as he rolled partially onto his side. His eyelids fluttered open.
Voodoo gently guided Savannah behind him. “Stay back.”
She obeyed, and Voodoo crouched, grabbing the collar of Tomas’s shirt and yanking him upright until the man sat with his back to the mirror.
“You’ve got ten seconds to explain what the hell you were doing, Tomas,” Voodoo said, his voice hard and unflinching.
“And don’t feed me any bullshit. I’ve had a long couple of weeks. ”
Tomas coughed. His eyes, dazed at first, sharpened the moment they settled on Savannah. Then he sneered. “I didn’t come here for her.”
Voodoo’s grip tightened. “No? Then why are you in here?”
“Just doing my job.”
“Your job? Does your job entail shady meetings with covert operatives?”
Tomas looked away. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Voodoo heard his phone ping and smiled, knowing exactly what that meant.
“No? Then let me refresh your memory.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the text Haley sent.
It was a screenshot from the surveillance cameras of Tomas and the two men he was meeting with.
He held it out for Tomas to see. “Care to change your story?”
Tomas tried to swat the phone out of his face, but Voodoo grabbed his wrist, holding the phone right in front of his nose. “Look closely. That’s you on the left.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’ll send you there myself if you don’t start talking,” Voodoo growled. He switched tactics. “You made a run for her. Who gave the order?”
Tomas laughed, a bitter, rasping sound that grated on the ears. “You think I’m scared of some SEAL turned babysitter?”
Sawyer twisted his wrist further until Tomas grunted, his cockiness cracking.
“Try again.”
“I was never after her,” Tomas spat. “She’s a pawn. A shiny distraction. The real deals are happening in the shadows while the world watches her tickle the ivories for peace.”
Voodoo narrowed his eyes. “What deals?”
Tomas let out a low, strained breath. “Weapons. Tech. Quiet agreements with men who aren’t supposed to exist. The Senator’s got his fingers in more pies than you’ll ever count. Azerbaijan was just a piece of it. China’s another.”
Voodoo’s jaw tightened. “You’re working for him?”