Operation 14 Trouble Strikes Again #2
Cassidy wouldn’t throw her out, he didn’t have that authority, but he assumed Carla wouldn’t test it.
He’d always thought Jesse Ross was good at her job, but now he had a new-found respect for her.
Carla gathered her papers with stiff, furious movements, shoving them into a red leather tote, before she stood.
Diners pretended not to watch as she marched toward the front doors, chin high, heels clacking, humiliation rolling off her in waves.
Outside, she stopped in front of the paparazzi and snarled something into the cameras before storming down the sidewalk.
“I didn’t like how that looked,” Green said.
“Free,” Tech murmured. “Tag Carla Kline, Xander’s publicist. Well, former publicist, and put her on a passive monitor. Socials, press contact spikes, the works.”
“On it,” Free responded.
Jesse sat back down and tapped one manicured fingernail near his plate. “Eat.”
A small smile tugged at Xander’s mouth as he picked up a couple of fries and dipped them into the ketchup.
Cassidy turned away before Xander could catch him watching.
“Maribel,” Jesse said, settling back in her seat. “I’m relying on you to get ahead of this. I want the focus moved off the threats and onto studio cooperation, his upgraded private protection, and most of all his commitment to finish filming.”
The meeting found its rhythm after that, and no one else dared to say anything out of pocket, or thoughtless.
Forty minutes later, Tech cut in through comms.
“I’ve got a suspicious stationary two o’clock from Starlight.”
Cassidy’s heart leapt to his throat, but he stayed planted.
Tech’s voice was as calm as if he was discussing the weather.
“Male, late twenties, tan beanie, gray shirt, phone in hand.”
Cassidy checked the location only long enough to confirm before returning to his zone.
“Approaching for contact,” Tech replied. “Ruxs, close rear. Green, hold AOR. Morrison, stay principal-side.”
“Copy,” Cassidy said.
Tech dropped a few bills onto the bar for his espresso, picked up his tablet, and walked across the dining room.
He looked like the kind of man who dined there on a regular basis—immaculately pressed blue shirt, patterned silk bow tie, and slim charcoal trousers.
He reached the man’s table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
The guy’s eyes widened as he started to stand.
Ruxs appeared behind him and dropped one big hand onto his shoulder, forcing him back into the chair with enough pressure to eliminate any further idea of leaving.
Ruxs sat beside him as though they were old friends meeting for lunch.
Tech leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and stared.
The stranger opened his mouth, but Tech lifted one finger to his own lips and shushed him.
Tech took out his phone, snapped the guy’s picture, and tucked it away. “Free, run it.”
“Hey,” the guy protested.
Ruxs clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder again and squeezed, making him grimace so hard he almost doubled over.
“Let’s not cause a scene,” Ruxs said, voice menacing beneath the fake smile. “We don’t want things to get ugly.”
“I’m just here to eat,” the guy rushed out.
“That’s funny,” Tech said. He plucked the single-page menu off the table and glanced at it. “The waitress came over six times already, and you still haven’t ordered. I guess these ten options really have you stumped.”
“The prices are a little high,” the man muttered.
“Then why not leave?” Tech asked. “There’s a McDonald’s around the corner.”
“I was just about to.”
“After you finished what you came to do, right?”
“What?” The man shook his head too fast. “No. I don’t know what you mean.”
Free came back through comms. “Mark Dugan. Twenty-four. No warrants or violent priors. Just a few dozen misdemeanor trespass citations and panhandling spanning six years. No record of employment.”
Tech’s gaze stayed on the man. “Look, Mark. I’ve been in this line of work long enough to know when someone is doing recon.”
The man went pale at the use of his name. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Ruxs snatched the phone from his hand.
“Hey!”
“Burner,” Ruxs said as he scrolled the phone. “No contacts, call logs. Nothing on it except for the two dozen photos of Xander…and us.” He paused. “Wow. Next time shoot from my right. That’s my good side.”
The guy looked as if he was about to shit himself.
“I’m a huge fan, okay?” he said. “I’ve never seen Xander Vale up close.”
Tech set the menu down with delicate precision.
“Mark, I’ve also been in this line of work long enough to know a flunky when I see one. So tell us who sent you, and I might overlook your bad intentions and that ill-fitting shirt.”
“I swear I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Okay, this can go one of two ways,” Ruxs cut in, sounding annoyed.
“One, you don’t give me the name of the guy who hired you to tail Xander, and I take you in the back and beat the shit out of you.
Or two, you tell me who hired you, I slam your face into the table, break your nose, and let you go. ”
Mark’s breathing turned choppy.
Ruxs leaned closer. “Fifteen broken bones or one. Choose quickly.”
Cassidy stared across the dining room.
What kind of detective method is that?
No wonder God’s men were feared all over Atlanta…and his team under audit.
“Okay, okay.” Mark lifted his hands. “All I was asked to do was take some pictures of Xander Vale and his bodyguards and drop the phone at the place they texted.”
Tech leaned forward. “Who asked you to do that?”
“I was at my usual spot on the boulevard selling my star maps, when some random guy walked past and dropped this phone and two hundred bucks into my tip can. He didn’t look at me or say anything, just dropped it and kept walking.”
“One guy?”
“Yeah.”
“And…”
“As soon as he dropped it, it rang.” The guy shrugged. “So I answered. And the person told me to just tuck my shirt in, come in here and take some pictures, and he’ll give me four hundred more.”
“Where’d he tell you to meet him after?” Tech asked.
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to get a text. I drop it, and my money’s supposed to be there waiting.”
Tech tilted his head.
“That’s all I know, I swear. It was all done through the phone.”
Tech and Ruxs stood at the same time.
“Cool,” Ruxs said. “Let’s go make the drop.”
Mark stood with them.
Then bolted.
He shot toward the back entrance, slamming into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.
Glasses flew in the air before crashing to the floor. A woman screamed as chaos spread through the back of the restaurant.
Xander flinched, his eyes widening.
Ruxs and Green moved without a beat of hesitation, both tearing after Mark through the service corridor. Tech pivoted, stepping away from the stunned waiter and cutting toward Xander’s table.
Cassidy was already there.
He hooked Xander under his arm, hauling him out of his chair and into his body.
“We’re leaving.”
“What’s happening?” Jesse demanded, standing.
Cassidy didn’t answer—he had no time for questions.
Xander stumbled once but kept up.
Tech appeared in front of them, making a hole through the scattering crowd of employees.
“Starlight is mobile. Cover and evac. Slade, bring transport to rear connect point. Wheels hot.”
Slade’s voice came through for the first time, flat and steady. “Copy that. Vehicle moving.”
God had flown in their new driver that morning.
Slade was a retired Army sergeant with convoy experience, trained in evasive driving who specialized in high-threat transportation. Most of all he was a professional who understood and respected anonymity.
Tech lifted his voice as they exploded through the kitchen doors. “Clear the lane.”
People moved.
Cassidy kept Xander tucked close, his body between him and every opening.
Behind them, Jesse was still calling Xander’s name, but Cassidy didn’t slow.
They hit the rear exit and the black Suburban skidded to a sharp stop.
Cassidy got Xander into the back and climbed in beside him, crowding close as Tech took the front passenger seat.
Slade pulled out hard enough to throw Xander into his chest as he burned rubber out of the alley.
Xander was pale, his wide eyes sweeping the street, searching faces, every alleyway, and possible place danger could hide.
His breaths came too fast, and his fingers kept twisting in Cassidy’s shirt, clinging without awareness, as if his body had chosen him as his anchor before his mind could catch up.
He caught Xander’s cheek and turned his face to him.
“Look at me.”
Xander’s gaze fought him for a second before he finally locked on.
“Everything’s fine,” he said. “We’re just being cautious.”
Xander swallowed.
“You’re okay.” Cassidy kept his voice even, leaving no space for doubt. “I promise.”
Xander gave him a shaky nod.
He slid his hand from Xander’s cheek to the back of his neck, keeping him steady. “Breathe with me.”
Xander lowered his gaze to his mouth and mimicked the way his lips moved.
He listened to the comms feed while he helped Xander calm down.
“Rabbit’s moving fast. Southbound on Vesper Lane.” Green reported, wind cutting through the line.
“Little bastard’s fast for a guy who skipped lunch,” Ruxs added.
“Don’t lose him, Green,” Free said. “He’s our only lead.”
“Copy that, were gonna box him in.”
“Stay tactical guys,” Tech said, voice sharp. “Don’t overdo—”
The warning was cut off by a blast of horns, and a crash so loud Cassidy flinched away.
“I’m being robbed!” a man yelled.
Sirens whooped in the distance.
Police voices crackled through Ruxs and Green’s open channel.
“LAPD! Get on the ground! Hands behind your heads! Do it now!”
Ruxs chuckled, not even winded. “Um, Free?”
Free’s answer was flat. “Nice going.”
“I think you better call God,” Green murmured.
Tech slumped down in the front seat. “And trouble strikes again.”
Cassidy closed his eyes.