Page 148 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

He was going to miss that.

Captain Vega arrived with the first LAPD wave. Patrol units poured in through the breached south entrance. Officers spread fast, weapons up, voices sharp.

“Lieutenant Godfrey,” Vega barked, anger flaring across his face. “What the hell happened here?”

Vega took in the scene.

“I’m sure you can recognize blatant self-defense,” God said with his arms crossed. “But if you can’t believe your own eyes, you got countless witnesses standing around and plenty of video footage.”

Vega narrowed his eyes at him.

From the trailer row, the door finally opened. Cassidy came out first, blood darkening the bandage under his shoulder again. His face was pale beneath the beard, but his stance steady and immovable. Xander followed with one hand fisted in the back of Cassidy’s jacket. Shaken, but not shattered.

Xander’s eyes found his across the wrecked lot.

Cassidy looked at the dead men, the wounded guards, the cuffed attackers, the police lights washing red and blue across the studio walls before his gaze shifted to his team...his amazing rebuilt team.

Free spoke quietly into their ears. “Damn, they work fast here in Hollywood. The media’s already reporting breaking news. But I have the studio’s feed, it’s ready for the LAPD.”

“Captain, we have full digital chains ready for you,” Tech said to Vega.

Vega stared at him.

Tech blinked behind his glasses. “You’re welcome.”

Cassidy guided Xander toward the nearest medic with one steady arm around his back while blood soaked through his sleeve on the other.

God glanced around at the ruined lot. The attackers had come to finish what they’d started. They’d picked the end of a normal filming day, when the lot was dark, the crew was tired, probably hoping to catch Xander’s security off guard. But they’d also picked the one day every man protecting Xander was on post.

The LAPD loaded the two breathing suspects into separate ambulances under armed guard. Between the two of them, one or both would roll on Bennett Ashford in exchange for a lesser sentence.

Looked like their final mission was complete. Los Angeles had been their last stand.

Now they had to get home and figure what men like them did with the rest of their lives.

Furious

Furi stood in the dark kitchen with the phone still pressed to his ear.

One word replaying in his mind.

Com’ere.

It was an open door, and Furi had never wanted anything in his life the way he wanted to get through it before Syn changed his mind.

His heartbeat so hard it felt violent. Every breath was too sharp and shallow.

The house was quiet but not peaceful. It hadn’t been in weeks. Not with the kitchen missing Syn’s voice, the living room devoid of the heavy sound of him dropping onto the couch with a long groan after a shift.

Not with his side of the bed empty and his pillow still carrying the faintest trace of him because Furi couldn’t bring himself to wash it.

He had to hurry and get some things packed and get on the road, fearing if he took too long, Syn would remember all the reasons he shouldn’t’ve called.

He turned too fast and hit his hip hard on the edge of the counter.

“Ouch, shit.”

He raced around the house, throwing things in his backpack. Converse, comfortable, outdoorsy clothes, toothbrush, deodorant, electric razor, the bodywash Syn loved him to use. His charger and wallet were the last thing he added.