Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
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.