Operation 19 Targets in Spotlight #4
Wyatt’s face changed, the sloppy grin hardening into something insulting and ugly, but Cassidy was there before Wyatt could decide what stupid thing he’d try next.
He touched Xander’s back, placing himself between them. “Let’s go.”
Xander turned toward him with relief as Wyatt let out a weak, “Hey.”
“Starlight’s mobile,” Cassidy said into comms. “Front exit. Form tight formation.”
God answered. “Copy. Lead moving.”
They crossed the club through heat, music, and bodies that didn’t want to part.
“You okay?” he asked without looking down.
“Yes.”
Lie.
They got to the front entrance with God and Day ahead of them, and Ruxs and Green right behind. Steele appeared outside the front doors and opened them when they got close.
The outside world was ridiculous.
Valet traffic lined the curb with limos, SUVs, sports cars, and impatient drivers. Paparazzi crowded behind a thin rope that wasn’t holding worth a damn. Fans clustered near the edges of the building began screaming Xander’s name.
“Slade is two vehicles back,” Tech reported.
God’s voice was calm. “Hold the bubble.”
Cassidy kept Xander at his side.
“Xander! Xander, one photo!”
“Congratulations!”
“Xander, look here!”
A young woman slipped past the rope with her phone out, trembling. “Please, just one picture. Please, you helped me so much.”
Xander nodded.
Cassidy scanned her hands. Empty except for her phone.
Xander stepped a few feet away and leaned in just enough for the photo. “Thank you for supporting the film.”
The girl sobbed a little. “Thank you.”
Cassidy watched her phone, her hands, the people behind her, the valet lane, the throng of people still trying to get across the barrier.
Something pricked at the back of his neck. He didn’t like how out in the open they were.
He began to speak his concern into comms when a squeal of tires cut him off.
Steele’s voice cracked in his ear. “Shooter! Get down!”
Cassidy reacted before the words finished, but he was still too late.
He yanked Xander away from the girl, turned his own body into the line, as the first round slammed into his lower chest like a sledgehammer.
The second hit struck higher, just over his heart, driving the air out of him so hard the world flashed white at the edges.
Pain detonated across his ribs and sternum, hot and brutal.
The third round burned across his shoulder.
Cassidy spun with the force of it, grabbed Xander, and took him down under him.
More shots split open the night.
Glass shattered somewhere behind them. The sidewalk vibrated as people ran in every direction, crashing into each other, men and women shouting, tires screeching as drivers panicked and tried to move through a blocked lane.
Someone fell across the back of his legs. The crowd trampled over and around him but he kept Xander sealed beneath him.
His right shoulder screamed and his chest wouldn’t expand.
Xander was yelling his name.
Cassidy heard it through the pain and ringing in his ears.
He tightened his arms, not letting Xander go, not until he knew the shooting was done.
Strong hands grabbed his jacket.
He growled without sound and locked down harder.
“Morrison!” It was God. “Move!”
He couldn’t.
For half a second, his body didn’t understand orders. It only remembered the man underneath him and the savage need to keep him alive.
Xander’s hands found his face.
“Cassie!”
That name tore through his shock.
Xander’s face was inches from his, eyes wide, red-rimmed and terrified, mouth open around his name, hands shaking in his beard.
He blinked down at him.
He’s alive.
“On your feet, Morrison,” God commanded again. “Now.”
Cassidy forced air into his lungs and pain answered.
He pushed up and the team collapsed around them.
God grabbed one side and Steele the other, hauling him upright.
Ruxs and Green were shouting and driving people back, forming a shield. Day had his gun drawn beneath his jacket, angled low, eyes sweeping the rooftops and vehicles.
The Hummer roared into the opening like a black apex predator, the rear door already open.
“Move, move, move!” God barked.
Cassidy shoved Xander in first, because nothing else mattered. He used what strength he had left to push him down and climb in over him.
His knees hit the floorboard, and the door slammed shut as the vehicle lurched forward.
Cassidy had one hand braced against the seat, the other arm burning so badly his vision blurred. Xander was beneath him, trembling, hands fisting in his suit jacket.
“Stay down,” he rasped.
The team was shouting through comms.
“Lead clear.”
“Rear vehicle travelling.”
“Slade, evasive route two.”
“Copy.”
Cassidy stayed on top of Xander until he heard the words he’d been waiting for.
“Clear,” God said. “Convoy clear.”
Cassidy lifted his head, the motion jerking a sharp grunt out of him.
Xander scrambled from under him.
Blood streaked his hands from where he’d gripped his shoulder.
His eyes were wide, red and wet, his breaths coming in hard shallow breaks. He looked at Cassidy’s chest, his arms, then the blood on his own palms as if his mind was struggling to comprehend what’d happened.
“We need a doctor,” Xander said, voice cracking. Then louder. “Slade, get us to the hospital. Now!”
Cassidy tried to sit up.
Bad idea.
Pain flared down his chest and through his ribs, sharp enough to make him gasp.
Xander caught him. “Stay still. Don’t move.”
“I’m not leaving your side for a minute,” Cassidy said around a tight jaw.
“What?”
“I’m okay. I was hit in the vest. My arm was grazed, it’s barely a scratch.” Cassidy lied, leaning hard against the seat. “Slade, proceed on route two.”
Xander stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What the hell? No. No, you need a doctor!”
Tech twisted around in the front seat, scanning Cassidy with tactical efficiency.
“It grazed me,” he reiterated.
Blood dripped down his sleeve and Xander made a sound that damn near ruined him.
“That’s not a scratch.”
Tech shrugged off his jacket and gave it to Xander. “Here, put pressure on it.”
Xander’s hands shook violently as he bared down where the sleeve was torn apart.
Cassidy lifted his left hand and cupped Xander’s cheek. His fingers weren’t steady, but they got there. “Calm down, I’m all right.”
Xander shook his head, furious tears welling in his pretty eyes. “Don’t you dare say that like I didn’t just see you get shot.”
Cassidy softened his voice despite the pain. “I’m okay.”
“You jumped in front of me.”
“That was the plan.”
“That was not the plan.”
“It was always my plan.”
Free came through the comms. “I got the studio doctor in route to the hotel. Fifteen minutes behind you.”
God’s voice followed. “Morrison. Status.”
“I’m good,” Cassidy answered.
“I need a better report than that.”
“Vest caught two. Right arm grazed.”
Cassidy closed his eyes for half a second.
Xander shifted closer, almost climbing into his lap. “I’m scared,” he whispered.
Cassidy opened his eyes, those words hurting worse than the vest impacts.
He slid his hand from Xander’s cheek to the back of his neck and drew him forward until their foreheads touched. “I know.”
Xander shook against him.
Cassidy wanted to give him more. Reassure him better. Promise nothing like that would ever happen again, but he couldn’t lie to him. Not when gunfire still rang in his ears and pain pulsed through his shoulder with every heartbeat.
So he gave him the only truth he had.
“I’m still with you.”
Xander squeezed his eyes shut.
Slade took them around to the back of the hotel, bypassing the main entrance and rolling into a service lane they’d cleared with management to use weeks ago.
Tech opened the rear door and Cassidy stepped out on his own.
Barely.
Xander wove under his left arm, tucked so tight against him, he couldn’t tell if he was supporting Xander or Xander was supporting him. His right arm throbbed like fire, blood sliding down beneath his cuff and dripping onto the polished service floor, leaving a dark trail behind them.
At that time of morning, the hallway was empty, the few staff on the clock were probably in a breakroom somewhere with their feet up watching television.
“Doctor’s almost here,” Tech said, walking fast beside them. “Elevator secured?”
“Elevator secured,” Free answered.
“Where are the others?” Xander asked.
“God and Day are behind us. Ruxs, Green, and Steele are staying in the field,” Tech said.
Cassidy moved as if a boulder was sitting on his chest. The elevator felt miles away, but he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
The vest had saved his life. He knew that. But the body didn’t care that bruised ribs were better than holes. Pain punched through him with each step, and the graze along his shoulder had gone from burning to a sick, hot pulsing.
They reached the service elevator bank and Tech hit the call button.
The doors opened immediately.
Cassidy guided Xander inside. Tech followed, then turned to press the button for their secured floor.
“Hold on!” an anxious voice blurted.
A young guy rushed towards them, having come through the same entrance.
He was maybe in his early twenties. Slim build. Dark, messy hair sticking out from beneath a Dodgers ball cap, and damp at the ends as if he’d been sweating. He wore a Nike hoodie, ripped jeans, and expensive sneakers.
His face was sun-tanned, eyes wide and fixed on Xander with an intensity that made the last shred of calm in Cassidy go sharp as he crowded Xander into the corner and shielded him.
Tech blocked the doorway before he could enter and planted one hand against the kid’s chest.
“He’s not doing autographs,” Tech said.
The guy looked past him, staring at Xander. “I need to talk you in private, please.”
“No,” Tech and Cassidy both said in unison.
“Please, it’s important,” the guy begged, arm holding one side of the elevator door open. “You probably don’t recognize me.”
Tech shoved the kid backwards. He stumbled but recovered fast.
The doors began to slide shut and the kid’s face twisted with panic.
“I know who’s trying to hurt you, Xander Vale!”
The doors closed leaving them in dead silence.