Operation 19 Targets in Spotlight #5
Xander went still against his back.
Tech reached inside his jacket, pulled a black-and-chrome .45 from his holster, and aimed it at the narrow gap.
“Open the doors, Free,” Tech said quietly.
The elevator doors reversed.
The young man stood on the other side, staring down the barrel of Tech’s gun.
He let out a shocked yell as he turned to run. He made it half a step before he slammed face-first into God’s chest.
God didn’t move and the kid bounced off him as if he’d hit a brick wall.
God caught him by the back of the neck with one massive hand and hauled him into the elevator.
The young man practically fell inside, raising his hands in surrender.
“It’s not me,” he rushed out. “I’m not a part of it. I swear.”
Tech kept the gun trained on him.
God and Day stepped inside.
His gaze moved from the kid to Cassidy’s bloody arm, to Xander’s face, then back to the stranger.
The elevator doors closed and for one suspended second, no one spoke.
The young guy was shaking so hard his teeth chattered as God leaned down, glowering right in his face, his voice gravelly and menacing.
“You better hope like hell you’re not wasting my time, or fear’ll be the least of your feelings tonight.”
Xander Vale
Xander was a mess.
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and his throat burned from screaming Cassidy’s name after he’d been shot.
His tuxedo shirt was gone, replaced by a hotel robe Free wrapped around him since his second outfit had Cassidy’s blood all over it. He was in God and Day’s bedroom with Cassidy, but his mind still felt trapped on that sidewalk.
He paced on the other side of the room, arms wrapped tight around himself, while Cassidy sat upright on the couch like the most stubborn man alive.
His black shirt hung open, the ruined fabric cut apart by the studio doctor.
His bulletproof vest was on the floor near a bloody towel, the front of it dented where the bullets hit.
Dark, ugly bruises had already started to bloom beneath the hair across his chest. The last round had grazed him high on the outer arm.
The doctor numbed the area, cleaned it, and was putting in stitches while Cassidy acted as if the real injury was being left out of the interrogation in the adjoining room.
“I should be in there,” Cassidy growled. “God and Day are questioning a potential witness without me.”
The doctor, a gray-haired woman with tired eyes, tightened her grip on his arm. “Sit still before these stitches end up looking like barbed wire.”
“I don’t care,” Cassidy glared at her. “Like I told everyone else, I’m telling you too. I’m fine.”
“You have a bruised rib, soft-tissue trauma, and a wound that needs to close cleanly unless you want an infection,” she said, threading the needle with brisk precision.
“I’ve had worse, Deb, and you know it.”
“Still doesn’t make you Superman.”
Xander kept pacing. The room was too small for how much he was feeling.
Maribel had already released a brief statement about an “incident outside a private event,” which sounded so coincidental and mild, Xander wanted to fire her.
An incident?
“Lane.”
Xander stopped moving.
Cassidy lowered his voice. “Come here.”
He crossed the room on unsteady legs and eased onto the couch near Cassidy’s uninjured side, careful not to jostle him.
Cassidy lifted his left arm and pulled him close until he was tucked against him. He pushed his nose into the side of his neck and breathed him in. “Please, stop worrying,” he murmured.
“You were shot.” The tears came again before he could stop them. “You can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way like that.”
Cassidy hummed, taking another long breath. “I’ll take a bullet for you any day, sweetheart.”
More tears slipped down his cheek and Cassidy lifted his hand and wiped them away with his thumb.
A knock sounded at the open doorway and Tech stepped inside.
Cassidy straightened. “What did he say?”
The doctor snapped, “Sit still.”
Tech sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the couch. “Free got a plate off the shooter’s vehicle through the traffic cameras but that car had been reported stolen yesterday.”
Cassidy clenched his fist. “So they got away?”
“The shooters ditched it in a parking garage in Koreatown. Free tracked it through street cams until it went underground. No exit footage.”
“Fuck!” Cassidy barked.
The doctor jabbed him lightly with one gloved finger. “Damnit.”
Tech lifted his hand before Cassidy could keep swearing, and turned toward Xander.
“The kid says his name is River Blackwell.”
Xander frowned. For a moment, the name meant nothing. Then it landed.
“Celestine Ashford’s son?”
Tech nodded.
His stomach dropped.
“He says it’s his stepfather behind all this.”
Xander covered his mouth. “Bennett Ashford?”
Cassidy scowled. “Why?”
Tech sighed. “According to River, Celestine’s film, Where the Sea Ends, was a forty-seven-million-dollar project she funded herself. Written and directed by her and produced through Ashford’s company. It was expected to dominate awards season until What Breaks in Silence overtook it.”
Xander shook his head. “That’s insane.”
“People have been attacked and killed for far less than ego and forty-seven million dollars,” Tech said.
Xander lowered his hand. “But Celestine…”
“She’s not involved.” Tech shrugged. “At least that’s what her son says.”
Xander’s mind jumped to every interview Celestine had done, every polite answer about being honored to be included with such extraordinary nominees. He remembered how kind she’d been at the first awards luncheon, hugging him and telling him his performance was one of the best she’d ever seen.
“She’s always so nice to me,” Xander said quietly.
“River says she’s barely functioning,” Tech said. “He says she relapsed after the awards losses started stacking up. Drinking. Pills. Cocaine.”
“Oh god,” he said, dropping his head in his hands.
“Hey,” Cassidy squeezed his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Her team’s been telling the press she’s on location developing a new film, but she’s been at the Solstice Wellness Institute in Malibu for the last three months.”
Xander stared at him. “I thought she was working in Vancouver.”
“It’s a cover story.”
“Wow.” Xander couldn’t believe it was an industry colleague coming after him and not some sick fan.
God had been right.
Cassidy’s eyes were hard. “You sure it’s just Ashford?”
Tech nodded once. “River overheard Bennett Ashford talking to two hired men at their estate. Ashford said he wanted you injured enough to shut down your future projects. He specifically said he didn’t want you killed because it’d bring too much heat.”
The doctor’s hands stilled for a half second before she resumed stitching.
Xander felt cold all over.
“He’s going to that extent because his wife lost a few awards? Seems extreme.”
“River said Ashford believes you’re coming out made your film untouchable,” Tech said. “He called it dirty politics.”
Xander let out a stunned breath. “That’s not true.”
“No,” Tech said. “It isn’t.”
Xander’s attention moved back and forth between them. “Can they arrest him?”
Tech’s expression told him the answer before he said it.
“River doesn’t have any proof. He overheard the conversation through a door. He can’t even identify the men by appearance and he didn’t record it. And without catching tonight’s shooters…”
Xander threw his hands up. “Will this ever end?”
“God considers this the first solid thread that actually pulls in the right direction. Free is digging into Ashford’s finances, and phone calls. But a lot of what Free will find won’t be legally admissible unless we can anchor it to a lawful source.”
Cassidy grunted. “We’ll need to catch the men flat out and get ’em to confess Ashford’s involvement.”
“Exactly.” Tech shifted in the chair. “River said the men indicated they wouldn’t be back to Ashford’s house since they were told to disappear after the job.
Besides, God and Day don’t want River putting himself in danger trying to get evidence.
He says he’s been trying to get you alone Xander, but after what happened tonight, he came straight to the hotel. ”
“Can I talk to him?” he asked.
“No,” Tech and Cassidy said.
Xander frowned. “I just want to tell him thank you for coming here. It was brave.”
“I’ll relay your gratitude.” Tech stood.
Cassidy touched the back of his neck. “Lane. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“He helped me.”
“You still don’t know him.”
“But he did all this to warn me. I gotta at least—”
“I said no.” Cassidy growled.
Xander wanted to argue, but when he looked at Cassidy’s bruised chest, the blood still on his arm, he closed his mouth.
“I’ll let him know you’re appreciative, Xander.” Tech came closer. “God wants you to stay in the hotel tonight. He’s got Ruxs, Green, and Steele sitting on your place to see if anyone shows there after the failed hit, but most likely Ashford’s men know they lost the window tonight.”
“Wait. My dogs?”
“Two of Morrison’s agents who’d helped install the security system are in your house.” Tech said immediately. “Ranger and Roxie know them. They’re fine.”
Xander exhaled.
“I’m going to run over and grab you a bag,” Tech continued. “Clothes, toiletries, anything obvious. Cassidy, I’ll grab your spare duffle outta your trunk.”
Cassidy settled back against the pillows, irritation still marring his handsome face. “I don’t like being benched.”
Tech’s tone was serious. “You did good work tonight, Morrison. You saved his life.”
The doctor finished the last stitch, cleaned the wound again, then wrapped his upper arm with gauze and a clean bandage.
Xander listened intently while she gave instructions about keeping the wound dry, monitoring for infection, icing his chest, taking pain medication, watching for dizziness, breathing difficulty, fever, swelling, and other terrifying things Cassidy ignored.
“No lifting, running, fighting, or unnecessary heroics,” the doctor said, popping Cassidy on his thigh, their long-time relationship evident.
She snapped her gloves off and tossed them into the trash.