Operation 13 Lines Crossed
Xander Vale
By noon, Xander was getting dressed for the first time in days without wondering who would be waiting for him when he walked out of the door.
What he should’ve been thinking about was the stranger who’d been inside his house the night before and gotten close enough to make him believe he was about to die. Why his security had vanished.
Those thoughts were still there, but they weren’t the first ones that rose in him when he opened his eyes.
Cassidy was.
Cassidy’s big arm had been locked around his waist. His chest warm against his back.
Cassidy’s breathing was slow and deep behind him, steady enough that Xander had fallen into the rhythm of it instead of into the panic that’d been yanking him out of sleep for days.
For a few quiet seconds, he’d only felt the weight of a strong man holding him, and something inside him had loosened with a relief so pure it almost hurt.
He hadn’t woken once. He’d slept because his mind believed Cassidy when he said he was safe.
He smiled…actually smiled.
And Cassidy hadn’t slipped out of bed the moment the sun rose. Instead, he’d waited until Xander was fully awake, then drew him closer.
“Keep resting,” Cassidy had whispered near his ear, voice still rough from sleep, low, warm and gravel-deep. His soft beard brushing along the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go to my room to handle some things.”
That voice should’ve been illegal before coffee.
He’d mumbled a breathy, half moan, “Okay,” and Cassidy went still behind him.
Xander felt the subtle tightening of that powerful body. The faint, barely restrained groan that left Cassidy’s throat before he caught it. And God help him, Xander’d felt something else too.
Morning arousal, thick and unmistakable against his hip, separated only by a thin layer of linen and the discipline of a man trying hard to be a gentleman.
Xander’s face went hot as he finished buttoning his jeans.
Apparently, his body had decided fear, trauma, sleep deprivation, and lust could all live in the same crowded gut.
He threaded his belt, buckled it, then pulled on a crisp white Polo button-up. It was casual but polished. He slid on a pair of white Nike tennis shoes, then went into the bathroom to groom himself, taking more time to tame his hair than usual.
He ran product through the deep waves, working the longer blond strands away from his face while leaving enough volume at the top to keep it from looking too intentional. The sides were swept back, and he slid a narrow black elastic band across the crown to tame the fly-aways.
Lastly, he reached for the small square bottle tucked in his toiletry case.
His fragrance. Bespoke.
The perfume was made for him in Grasse, France. A rare splurge after he’d secured the Laroste cologne deal.
It had taken the master perfumer four months to create, sending tiny vials back and forth across the Atlantic until it was perfect.
He dabbed a little on each side of his neck.
When he realized he was primping, he left the bathroom, grabbed his phone off the nightstand, and turned it on.
It lit up like a warning flare—twenty-nine missed calls and nineteen unanswered texts.
Xander grimaced. “Good morning to you too.”
Most of them were from Jesse, Carla, and Elliot. Manager, publicist, and personal assistant. The three-headed monster who never let him have more than a few moments of peace.
There were a couple of calls from his agent, one from Wes and Law, Devyn, and an alarming amount from numbers he didn’t recognize.
His team were the last people he wanted to deal with, but he didn’t have the luxury of checking out of life no more than anyone else.
He opened Jesse’s thread first and immediately wished he hadn’t.
CALL ME.
XANDER CALL ME RIGHT NOW. BETTER YET ANSWER YOUR PHONE!
ARE YOU SAFE? WHERE ARE YOU???
WHY AM I HEARING THIS SHIT FROM THE NEWS?
CHECK SM
LOOK AT THE ENTERTAINMENT SITES!
DAMNIT Z…….ANSWER ME!!!!
Xander’s stomach tightened.
He opened the browser and pulled up the most popular entertainment news site—The Marquee Wire.
The headline hit before the page fully loaded.
brEAK-IN REPORTED AT XANDER VALE’S HOLLYWOOD HILLS RESIDENCE AMID ONGOING SECURITY CONCERNS.
His eyes widened.
The article had a video embedded at the top. He tapped it and a reporter appeared on-screen, standing in front of the gate to his house. It was barely visible as the camera zoomed in from two hundred, fifty feet away.
The lights were still out—except for the red and blue police lights moving across the landscape—making the scene look that much more sinister.
Then there was footage of Ruxs, Green, and Steele crossing his property, big, confident and moving with purpose.
The reporter started again.
“It’s unfortunate that the award-winning Xander Vale appears to remain a highly targeted figure during what should be one of the biggest moments of his career.
Sources confirm there was another break-in at Vale’s secluded Laurel Canyon Heights residence at approximately ten-fifteen tonight.
Details remain limited, but neighbors reported police activity, possible shots fired, and what appeared to be a private security response shortly after the incident.
“At this time, representatives for Vale have not issued a formal statement. The LAPD could not confirm whether the break-in is connected to the recent attack on actor and stunt performer Devyn Frost outside Stage 8 earlier this week, an incident many believed was intended for Vale himself.”
Xander’s throat tightened.
The video jumped to a photo of him from a premiere, smiling like a man who had no clue he was about to end up on a hitlist.
“This comes as Vale is reportedly nearing the end of filming the highly anticipated sequel to What Breaks in Silence, the role that earned him a wave of awards nominations, and one of Hollywood’s most sought-out openly gay leading men.”
Then the footage returned to his property.
Ruxs and Green stood near the side yard.
Damnit.
The reporter concluded.
“The most intriguing question is, who are the unidentified men seen moving around Vale’s property not long after police arrived? Several witnesses described them as quote, ‘not regular-looking bodyguards.’ Whether these men are part of his new private security, remains unclear.”
Xander lowered the phone.
“Shit.”
Did God and his team know they were on the news? Could they get into trouble if things went bad? They were cops. Detectives. They had strict rules they had to follow.
He pressed his palm to his forehead.
Xander had been so wrapped up in wanting someone to make him feel safe that he hadn’t thought about their careers, or their lives back in Atlanta.
He had only thought about himself.
His phone rang in his hand. The caller ID said melodramatic mama bear.
Xander stared at it until the third ring. He didn’t want to answer and have to rehash last night.
He swiped the green receiver anyway. “Hey Jesse.”
“‘Hey Jesse’?” she snapped. “Are you fuckin serious? You say ‘hey’ as if you aren’t responsible for the biggest cardiac scare of my life.”
Xander closed his eyes. That was why he called her melodramatic.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You are not fine! Someone broke into your damn house in the middle of the night, again. I called you a million times!”
“Twenty-one.”
“How dare you not—.”
“I had my phone off.”
“Oh okay, well that’s understandable…you had your phone off?” she said sarcastically before yelling again. “Xander, I’ve aged ten years since breakfast!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just tell me what happened.”
He moved away from the bed to the chair facing the window, glancing out at the bustling city below. “I’m fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’m giving right now.”
Silence.
Jesse liked information and loathed secrecy. She needed control at all times.
Xander could picture her sitting in her favorite ritzy coffee shop with a laptop in front of her, glasses pushed up into her hair as a makeshift headband, lips pressed into a thin line, one hand gripping a matcha latte and the other clenched into a fist.
“Where are you?” she asked.
Xander paused.
He looked around the suite, unsure if he should disclose where he was. “I’m somewhere safe,” he said.
Another silence, colder. “Xander.”
“I’m under heavy protection,” he said, gentling his tone. “For obvious reasons. I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell anyone the location yet.”
“You don’t know if you’re allowed?”
“Yes.”
“Who exactly is making these decisions?”
“People who are dedicated to making sure I stay alive.”
Jesse let out an exaggerated exhale. “We need to meet ASAP. Like immediately. We have to discuss gaining control of the narrative of the break in, your promotions schedule, and whether you’re emotionally and physically ready to resume filming.”
Xander rubbed the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was to further delay production. And the truth was, he wanted it wrapped up.
“I’ll call you back within the hour,” he said.
“I want a time.”
“Within the hour is a time.”
“Xander.”
“Jesse.”
She let out a long sigh. “Fine. One hour. But please don’t make me have to keep chasing you.”
“I won’t.”
“But, really…you’re safe?”
He toned down his frustration. “Yes.”
“Promise me.”
He gave a slight smile. “I promise.”
“Good. One hour,” she confirmed and hung up.
Xander stared at the phone a moment longer before setting it down.
He left his bedroom and went into the kitchen.
The full-sized fridge was stocked with a selection of juices, soft drinks, sparkling water, bottles of cold brew, cut fruit, yogurt, wrapped sandwiches, and even protein drinks.
He grabbed an orange juice and twisted off the cap.
The tangy sweetness helped wake him up…a little.
He took the bottle with him and crossed toward the adjoining door to see if Cassidy was ready yet. The door to his room was half open. Xander slowed when he heard steady, measured breathing from inside.
Not sleep breathing, it was a regulated cadence.
He tapped lightly on the door but got no answer.
He tapped a little harder. “Cassidy?”
Still nothing.
The breathing continued.