Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Kelsey
“Did you just see that?” I ask Carter as we stand in the security room together during the final sound check.
We finished up the final team meeting about an hour ago, and everyone’s nerves are fried. Tonight is a big deal, and we can’t let anything go wrong. We’re also coordinating with four separate security teams here with their A-list clients tonight.
“See what?” Carter asks, his eyes scanning the four screens in front of us.
“I swear the camera to Jaxon’s dressing room just flickered.”
Without pausing, Carter presses the button on his comms. “Weston, do you have eyes on Steele?”
I appreciate the faith he has in me, not even questioning whether I may be seeing something or if I’m overreacting—he just takes the necessary steps to confirm the client is safe.
“Weston? Confirm Steele is in his dressing room,” Carter says again after a second passes with no response.
“Confirmed.” Weston’s voice comes through the device in my ear.
“Well, that was terrifying for a second there,” I admit, my eyes focused on the monitors in front of me, watching as the crowd filters in past each of the security checkpoints.
“Having flashbacks, Kels?” Carter teases, lightly banging my shoulder with his.
“Not the time for jokes.”
“We’ve got this,” he says with more confidence than I’m feeling.
I’m on edge, and I can’t figure out why.
The team is ready. We’ve got our full team tonight, even bringing in an additional coordinator to work with the personal security teams who will be with celebrities around the venue tonight.
We know what we’re doing at this point in the tour, and even if we haven’t figured out the source of the last breach, we feel fairly confident we can have the system up and running again in less than thirty seconds should it go down.
It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we can do.
A message from Lila pops up on my computer screen.
Lila: Possible Bennie sighting at C. Fourth line.
Attached is a picture of a woman wearing a large cowboy hat, jean jacket, and boots. It’s hard from the picture to tell if it’s her or not. It definitely could be, but it could also be almost any woman at this concert.
Me: I’ll get one of Mitchell’s floaters on it.
Lila: Already asked. Eddie is trying to find her.
“Carter,” I say, pointing to my screen to keep him in the loop.
“Just what we need,” Carter says. “How many possible stalker sightings are we going to get today?”
“It’s the last day. My team is being extra vigilant. Plus, the sighting from earlier ended up being a false alarm. Maybe this one will be too.”
We sit in silence, watching as the opening act performs their first two songs.
Being on tour with Jaxon has given this group a lot of confidence, particularly the lead singer.
She has an amazing voice, and the crowds have been coming in earlier each concert to see them play rather than waiting until it’s almost time for Jaxon to start like they did in the beginning.
My eyes continue scanning the screens, continually going back to the one showing Eddie searching the concourse.
“What’s Eddie doing?” I ask Carter when I can’t wait any longer for an update.
“Fuck if I know,” he says, raising his hand to his ear to ask him.
“Eddie, we need a status report on the potential Bennie sighting.”
He tilts his head, listening to the response. Eddie isn’t on the same channel as I am, so I don’t get to be a part of the conversation.
“He says he can’t find her,” Carter relays.
“Not acceptable. Is he working with my team to spot her from above?”
“They can’t find her either. She turned a corner and got lost in the crowd. There are about ten thousand hats just like hers out there, and that’s assuming she even still has the damn thing on.”
Me: Need the seat info for the Bennie potential.
Lila: Already sent to Eddie. He’s headed there now.
“He’s headed to check her seat,” Carter says at the same time Lila’s message comes through.
As frustrated as I am that we can’t seem to find this woman, I’m impressed with how well Lila is anticipating every move I’m going to make and even beating me to it.
Plus, she and Eddie are coordinating well without Carter and me having to be the middlemen.
It’s seamless and so different from when we first started six weeks ago.
I’m about to have Carter check in with Eddie again when a sudden crackle of static fills my ear.
It’s gone just as quickly as it came.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Carter, my heart rate quickening.
“Someone may have just hit their mic by accident,” he says, looking at the open comms app on his desktop like it might’ve malfunctioned.
The static comes again, lasting longer this time before cutting off, replaced by the eerie silence of nothing.
“Weston?” Carter says. “Report.”
Silence.
Our eyes meet, and I see the same look of annoyance and fear that I know is on my face.
Carter breaks eye contact and tries again. “Weston? Report. Weston!” Carter is practically shouting now as he touches his finger to his comms device a third time.
“It’s not coming through to me,” I say. “Call him,” I demand, pointing to his phone.
He nods and pulls up Weston’s contact information when suddenly, every single image on my screen goes dark.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as my phone vibrates in my hand.
Lila
We’re on it. Lincoln says to give him 30 seconds.
I flash my phone to Carter, who nods, still clicking Weston’s name to call him.
The cameras on my screen flicker on and off, but it’s not enough. The comms system crackles again, and this time, a voice comes through, saying something I can’t make out.
“Weston, report. Now,” Carter says as soon as a voice comes through the line.
That’s when it hits me—the cold rush of dread spreading through my veins.
It wasn’t just a flicker on the screen. It wasn’t a random glitch. This is planned. They tested our systems, and now they—whoever they are—are putting it to use. Our equipment is all failing at once, and there is no doubt in my mind that it’s on purpose.
Carter’s eyes meet mine, and I know something is wrong. Everything about him is tense, from his shoulders to his hands as they grip the phone too tightly.
“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing my phone and calling Lila.
It was bound to happen. I knew—I knew—it couldn’t have been for nothing. No one puts in that much effort so a streaker can get on stage. How was I unprepared for this?
What? I mouth, but he just holds up a finger.
“We’re working on comms and video,” Lila says when she answers.
“Good,” I say. “But I think there’s more. Hold on.”
“We’ll be right there, keep knocking, but wait for us,” Carter says before hanging up. “Jaxon’s door is locked, and he’s not answering.”
“What?” I ask, my mind running through a million different scenarios. Like Bennie kidnapping him and cutting off all his toes.
“Don’t go there,” Carter says. “Maybe he locked the door and fell asleep. The room is huge, so maybe he didn’t hear the knocking.
There’s a bathroom attached too, maybe he’s in there.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered by all the people constantly around him anymore. I know it would drive me insane.”
Carter starts locking down his computers, clearly believing the drivel he’s spouting about Jaxon falling asleep this close to his show about as much as I do—not at all.
“My gut says this is serious, but how could it be?” I ask Carter, trying to shake the feeling of unease flowing through my stomach as I follow him out of the room at a pace that is purposeful but not so fast as to draw attention to ourselves.
“He’s in his dressing room surrounded by security personnel—how could anyone get to him?
Plus, shouldn’t his prep team be in there with him? ”
Carter’s hand runs through his hair, his jaw tightening. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s piecing together the same things I am. The cameras going down at the same time as the comms, and then Jaxon doesn’t answer? It doesn’t seem like a coincidence.
His phone rings again, and Carter answers, listening to someone give an update. “Do we have confirmation of that?” Carter asks whoever he’s on the phone with now. “He’s not with any CPOs? He’s not in the bathroom somewhere? He’s not down at the concessions stand wearing dark sunglasses?”
The hand he runs aggressively through his hair is all the answer I need.
I put my phone back to my ear. “Lila, Jaxon’s missing,” I say, summarizing the information for her. “Or maybe locked in his dressing room—it’s unclear.”
The line is silent for a moment.
“How? Where could he have gone?” she asks, putting voice to the same questions we’re all thinking.
“I don’t know. That’s what I need you to tell me.
We had eyes on the hallway,” I say quickly, my thoughts racing as I try to match Carter’s pace down the long hallway.
“Mitchell Security has multiple CPOs stationed around the dressing room. Find out where he went.” I pause before hanging up.
“Oh! and I need a key to open that door. Get someone from the venue down there now, but don’t say why.
And message Jaxon’s team to update their standard rider—his security needs the key to his door every place, every time. ”
Carter and I continue to navigate the hallways full of people. Jaxon takes the stage in a little more than thirty minutes, so the majority of the crowd is on their way to their seats now.
My adrenaline is flooding my veins, my feet wanting to run when my mind knows we can’t create a scene.
“The stadium team is bringing the key to the dressing room. They’ll be there in five,” Lila says.
“Don’t forget about Bennie, Lila. My gut tells me she’s involved somehow.”