Operation 21 The Last Stand
Xander Vale
At seven in the morning, Xander sat at the small table in the hotel suite with his phone propped in front of him.
Jesse filled one square of the screen from her office, sharply dressed, her all-business-no-bullshit expression in place.
Maribel occupied another, calmly rotating the notes of the shooting crisis.
Nolan Price, the studio manager, looked as if he hadn’t slept in days if the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and wayward hair were any indication.
Elliot was in the bottom square, efficient and focused like always.
“We have to control the narrative,” Maribel said. “Right now the story is escalating without us. Police have no details of the shooters. Thank goodness no one else was hurt, but people are still blaming you since you were the target.”
Xander wanted to scream. He was a damn victim. How could he be responsible for another person’s criminal actions?
“If we don’t establish stability, speculation will continue to run rampant.
” Maribel picked up another piece of paper and begin to read.
“The statement should be simple. Xander Vale returns to set and production on the sequel to What Breaks in Silence. Filming continues and is on schedule. Additional security measures have been put in place to ensure his safety and the safety of his co-stars and studio personnel. The attempts on his life continue to be an on ongoing investigation, and we trust the LAPD will track down all responsible.”
Xander remained composed and impassive.
He never mentioned the meeting with River Blackwell last night or the implication of Bennett Ashford’s involvement.
That’d been God’s and Cassidy’s call, that the information River had given them was need-to-know only. River Blackwell had risked his life by telling them the truth, and if Bennett or his hired men found out he’d ratted them out, he could also become a target.
If the press got a whisper of it, Bennett could lawyer up and clean house or twist the whole thing into celebrity paranoia.
So Xander sat and listened to his team tell him he needed to be seen and to keep working.
He didn’t argue.
Bennett Ashford wanted him scared, injured, or dead, whatever it took not to finish his movie.
But fear had been driving too many of his decisions, and he wasn’t going to let Bennett Ashford, the coward, control him from behind the walls of his seaside mansion.
He lifted his eyes to the screen. “I’ll be there.”
Maribel stopped speaking.
The studio executive released a long sigh. “Oh thank goodness. We can adjust the schedule and keep the first half of the day interior.”
“No,” Xander said.
Everyone looked at him.
He straightened in the chair. “We do the schedule the way Nolan built it unless security changes it. I’m not asking production to tiptoe around me. I’m not hiding in my trailer between takes so cameras can catch me looking terrified. If I’m coming back, I’m coming back to work.”
Maribel studied him, something approving in her eyes. “That’ll send a strong message.”
“It’s not a message,” Xander said. “I’m just ready to work. This is my livelihood, and I won’t disappoint the cast, crew, or the fans by postponing the film.”
Maribel added, “I’ll draft the public statement. Xander returns to set today. Production continues. Nothing defensive or panicked.”
“Good.” Xander pushed his untouched coffee away. “Then I’ll see everyone on set.”
The call ended in a scattered chorus of agreement and encouragement.
Xander pocketed his phone as the bedroom door opened behind him.
Cassidy came out dressed for the day in black jeans, boots, and a black shirt under a dark jacket.
His beard was trimmed, hair brushed back, jaw set. Apparently, all a man needed after being shot three times was amazing sex and a few hours of sleep to appear fully restored.
Cassidy stopped near the table. “You told them you’re going.”
“I am going.”
“I heard.”
Xander rose from the chair. “Then you heard why.”
Cassidy’s gaze moved over his face. “I heard a studio trying to protect a schedule rather than your life.”
Xander flexed his hands at his sides. “After what River told you guys, I need to go to work.”
“Lane.”
Xander shook his head. “I can’t hide with my tail tucked between my legs, while Bennette Ashford succeeds at exactly what he’s trying to do.”
Cassidy’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes did. The protector in him hated this.
He went to Cassidy and wrapped his arms around him. “I won’t give him that.”
Cassidy studied him. “The plan is to get proof, not revenge.”
“I know.” He cupped Cassidy’s cheek. “But I have full confidence in my security.”
Cassidy grunted. “You’re saying that to make me feel better.”
“No.” Xander slid his hand carefully down Cassidy’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Cassidy caught his wrist, brought his palm to his mouth, and kissed the inside of his wrist.
“Then we go to work,” Cassidy said.
Xander leaned up for a more fulfilling kiss. Cassidy wrapped one arm around his waist, holding him tight and close.
The faint ache in Xander’s body from last night had him growing hard as he lowered his hands to Casidy’s tight ass, giving it a firm squeeze.
Cassidy growled against his lips, his tongue delving deeper.
He smiled and whispered, “After last night, I hope I still remember my lines.”
Cassidy eased back, lust and heat flashing in his dark eyes. “You better stop before I lock you in the bedroom instead of letting you leave the hotel.”
Xander smirked at him, then glanced toward the door.
“Tempting,” he said. “But work first, play later.”
Cassidy
Cassidy sat beside Xander in the rear of the Hummer with his one good arm close enough to block, cover, or pull him down if needed, but two more of his most trusted agents from his company would be bodyside with him to compensate for his injury.
Tech rode up front with Slade. God and Day were in the SUV ahead of them, and Ruxs, Green, and Steele followed in another.
They arrived at the studio at eight-forty, and the world outside the gates had already turned feral.
News vans and camera crews lined the curb. Paparazzi pressed against the perimeter battling with the throngs of fans for a better spot.
The convoy rolled through the first gate after two separate credential checks and a vehicle sweep. Cassidy watched his new and improved team move around them like a well-oiled machine.
Slade pulled into the assigned space and stopped.
“Starlight’s going live,” Cassidy said.
One of his guards opened the door, talking into her wired comms.
Cassidy stepped out first, pain flaring across his shoulder as he straightened, then turned and gave Xander his hand.
Xander took it. For a brief second, he tightened his fingers around Cassidy’s.
Then Xander was out.
He didn’t shrink, duck his head, or try to rush off. He stood beside the Hummer, lifted one hand toward the fans behind the barricade, and gave them a genuine smile as the questions began flying.
“Xander, were you shot?”
“Did your bodyguard die?”
I’m standing right here, dumbass. Cassidy hovered within inches of Xander, scanning the hell out of the crowd.
“Do you know who’s targeting you?”
“How long before the sequel’s done?”
“Xander, look this way!”
Xander didn’t answer, instead he waved and blew kisses at the fans swaying rainbow flags and posters of support.
He wore dark jeans, a pale shirt beneath a fitted jacket, Prada sunglasses, hair pulled back from his face with just enough product to look gorgeous in an unfair way.
Cassidy leaned closer, pushing his palm harder into Xander’s back. “No stopping. No autographs.”
Xander’s mouth curved faintly. “Mmm, bossy.”
“And no distracting me.”
They crossed towards the stage building in a tight, clean formation.
Inside, the studio had tried to pretend it was a normal filming day.
It wasn’t.
The crew gave Xander a wide berth. The director spoke too brightly. The movie extras in the upcoming scene kept glancing toward Xander when he wasn’t looking. Set assistants near the buffet table were whispering then stopped when he glanced in their direction.
But Xander was gracious as always, greeting people by name and asking about their families.
He thanked the extras and the cast for being so understanding and patient.
He took a little over two hours in wardrobe and makeup, then stepped onto set when called and became someone else completely.
Cassidy had seen Xander act before, but today he watched him through different eyes.
Xander was his.
He delivered take after take and received direction without ego. Reset without complaint. Hit his mark every time, even when the room went quiet after one scene landed harder than they’d expected.
Cassidy’s pride swelled until it pressed against his bruises.
By late morning, Xander was performing so effortlessly it was as if nothing chaotic was happening in his life, and the set began to move at a more normal pace.
At lunchtime people had stopped tiptoeing around him, and the cast and crew were back to laughing and playing little pranks.
But his security never relaxed.
While Xander filmed an interior scene at the end of the day, Cassidy asked one of his trusted men, Kellan, to take point while he went into the security office for a short break.
He needed a few minutes to stretch and pop a couple of Tylenol. He snatched a Gatorade from the buffet table, and noticed God standing outside, staring hard at his phone.
Day was beside him. Ruxs and Green had come in from their exterior rotation, replaced with more of his men. Tech and Steele leaned against the wall a few feet away with their arms crossed.
No one was joking.
Cassidy detoured and went to them. “What’s going on?”
God didn’t glance up. “Just got an email from our captain.”
Day rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s an official notice.”
Green’s stare stayed on God. “They shut us down?”