Operation 8 No Safe Place
Xander Vale
The private hospital wing was quiet and serene with its overpriced abstract artwork on the walls, in soothing blues, grays, and golds.
Fresh cut flowers were arranged at every nurse’s station.
The halls had low, cream-colored sofas and sleek leather chairs tucked into small alcoves beside polished end tables stacked with current issues of magazines and books, clearly reflecting that this hospital catered to a certain class, unlike the county hospital.
As he moved through the halls, his security stood near every entrance, hands folded in front of them.
Xander hated that this was his new normal, moving with a cluster of guards as if he were an important politician. He couldn’t stand the way everybody gawked at him. As if he was something fragile…hunted.
Devyn limped beside him with one hand pulling his IV cart while he used the other to steady himself against the railing.
He looked better, still rough, but better.
The bruising around his jaw and left eye had faded from violent purple into a sickly yellow-green. A long healing incision disappeared into the hair near his temple where surgeons repaired a fractured orbital bone after the first blow from the pipe shattered it.
His staggered gait was the result of three cracked ribs, and his left wrist was wrapped in a hard brace after reconstructive surgery repaired the multiple torn ligaments.
But he was alive and walking, which was surprising since four days ago nobody knew if he or Luke were going to survive.
Luke—Devyn’s boyfriend—had taken two direct blows to the skull trying to protect him.
The doctors said the second impact had almost killed him.
A subdural hematoma caused dangerous swelling around Luke’s brain, but the quick surgery relieved the pressure, and he was placed in an induced coma before it could become fatal.
Part of Luke’s skull had temporarily been removed to save his life before being surgically restored yesterday morning.
Now?
He too was awake and responsive.
Some memory gaps still lingered around the attack itself, but he remembered Devyn…remembered everything important to him.
Devyn smiled as they made another slow lap around the hall.
“The first thing that man mouthed to me after waking up was ‘marry me.’”
Xander smiled weakly.
“Still had a damn tube down his throat but he couldn’t resist shooting his shot again.” Devyn laughed softly. “I guess he figured I couldn’t tell him ‘no’ this time. Not after saving my life.”
Xander swallowed hard as the guilt surged again.
It should’ve been him. His chest tightened until it hurt to take the next breath.
“I’m sorry,” Xander whispered.
Devyn stopped walking, turning and glaring so hard Xander took a step back. “You better not say that shit again.”
Xander blinked.
“I’m serious,” Devyn snapped. “Enough blaming yourself for someone else’s crazy.”
“I just—”
“Just be happy for the millions my lawyer said me and Luke are going to get from the studio settlement.”
Xander stared at him.
“And after all this rehab shit is over, we’re getting married somewhere far away. I’m thinking on an island. Barefoot, quiet, no phones, cameras, or crowds. Just us and nature. We’ll mail the pictures to our friends and family.”
Xander smiled. Solitude did sound nice right about now.
“And then,” Devyn continued, “we’re building a house near the Gulf, or maybe Cancun, and starting up one of those charter fishing companies where tourists pay to take them out all day and show them the best spots to fish.”
“Fishing?”
“Yeah.” Devyn grinned, his eyes glossing over. “That’s always been Luke’s dream. I think that man might be half shark. He took me out on his stepbrother’s yacht once for deep sea fishing, and I swear to God it was the best day of my life. I’d never seen him smile and laugh so much.”
Xander wanted to believe it, but this couldn’t possibly be a happy ending.
Devyn loved stunt work, he’d been doing it since he was fifteen years old. He lived for danger and adrenaline.
Now he expected Xander to believe he was ready to spend his days on some fishing boat with tourists who thought a good vacation activity involved yanking hooks through the mouths of innocent fish?
He wasn’t buying it.
But he also knew his friend was trying everything to make him stop blaming himself.
So he kept the apologies trapped inside his head, where they’d continue to play on constant repeat.
He stayed until visiting hours were over.
He’d been feeling good about his visit, especially when he’d gotten a chance to pop in on Luke.
He’d been asleep most of the time, but when he cracked his eyes open and saw Xander, he’d smiled around the tube taped to the side of his mouth.
Security was moving him through a private route down the official access halls that emptied into a back exit, but the moment they stepped outside flashes exploded through the darkness.
“Xander!”
“Over here!”
“How’s Devyn?”
“Is Luke Mercer alive?”
The security the studio provided loosely surrounded him in a way that didn’t make him feel safe at all.
They grinned for the cameras, while halfheartedly waving the small mob back, tossing out lines like, “All right folks, back it up,” and “Let’s give him some room, he’s had a long day.”
“Studio wants him rested up,” another added.
The cameras blinded him as questions crashed into him from every direction.
“Xander! One picture!”
“Did the hospital confirm Devyn’s release date?”
“Are you increasing your security detail?”
“Xander, look this way!”
“Damn, you got some sexy guards, Xander!”
Yeah…that was the problem.
They were too smooth and camera-ready, like security bought for aesthetics instead of survival.
He didn’t feel protected and it made the cold knot of fear in his stomach grow larger.
“Are you dating one of them?”
Oh god. Xander cringed. This reeked of a damn publicity stunt. Devyn deserved better.
“Xander!” One voice cut through louder than the rest. “Your attacker is still out there! Are you sure you’re safe to be out in public?”
His heart sank as he was shoved into the backseat and the door slammed shut.
He stared out of the tinted window while the SUV pulled away from the hospital.
Was he safe?
He didn’t know anymore.
Maybe it was over, and since the person failed, they realized it wasn’t worth the risk now that security around him was tripled.
God, he hoped so.
He slid his fingers unconsciously into his pocket towards Cassidy’s card.
Just thinking of him lessened a bit of the fear inside.
Cassidy Morrison was solid and comforting in a world that wasn’t.
Strong, mature, safe…virile.
That word embarrassed him every time it crossed his mind, but it fit.
Cassidy carried himself with this intense masculine confidence that made every other security guard around look like a kid playing dress up.
Then he found himself wondering ridiculous, pointless things.
What was Cassidy really like when he wasn’t working?
How did he live? In a house…an apartment? A man cave?
Did he cook?
Did he have pets?
Family? Friends?
Does he have a nickname? Surely his family didn’t call him HOS.
Did anyone call him Cassie? He would if he was close to him.
He smiled at that before his thoughts continued.
Did Cassidy ever laugh?
Xander realized he’d never once seen him smile.
I can make him smile if he let me.
He stared out of the window at the passing city lights, as another thought hit.
He didn’t even know if Cassidy was gay.
The way Cassidy stared at him sometimes, and touched him, didn’t always feel professional either. He didn’t watch him with casual indifference the way straight men did other men.
No, Cassidy gazed at him for long moments at a time.
Since coming out publicly, Xander hadn’t shown interest in anybody despite his publicist begging him to start dating—preferably another actor.
It was better for optics, she said. Increased publicity. Bigger headlines.
His no had been firm.
He refused to turn his brand new, fragile personal life into a media circus show. For now, he was happy just being out. But late at night—in his empty house—he ate alone, watched television alone, and fell asleep the same way. It would be nice to lay his head on somebody’s chest and just…relax.
Xander stared at Cassidy’s card, brushing his thumb over the matte black cardstock.
He wished Cassidy had social media or something.
He wanted to see pictures of him outside of work. Vacation photos. Outings. Hobbies.
Instead he was a complete mystery, and somehow that made him even more attractive.
He knew Cassidy was older than him…much older probably.
But Xander didn’t think of himself as immature either, or he’d hate if Cassidy saw him as some vulnerable kid. He was a superstar even though he didn’t live like one.
His house was modest size, not a mansion hanging off the side of a cliff. He drove a Ford truck. Wore simple clothes. Never cared about gaudy jewelry or throwing champagne around at parties. He hated clubs and crowds and refused to pretend he didn’t.
But quiet and loneliness were starting to feel a bit too similar.
The SUV curved onto the rounded driveway leading toward his house.
The guards assigned to his property were sitting in the Adirondack chairs across his wraparound porch scrolling on their phones.
Not patrolling, or watching, just sitting there.
“What the hell…?” he muttered.
The truck stopped, and the guards got up, but instead of approaching his door, they walked toward the driver side.
“You relieving us?” one asked.
The driver shrugged. “Weren’t supposed to, but if you wanna go, I can stay. I need the extra hours.”
Xander blinked at them.
Were they serious?
Instead of focusing on guarding, they were acting like exhausted warehouse workers trading shifts.
A hollow feeling settled in his chest. None of them wanted this assignment. The studio had forced it on them. Now, he’d become a burden nobody wanted to bear.
Xander climbed out without saying anything and walked inside the house.
The moment the door shut behind him, he locked the knob and both bolts, then stood there in silence.