Page 38 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Xander never heard Cassidy’s vehicle start, but he knew he was driving because he could hear the roar of his engine.

Hard banging sounded as if somebody was in the upstairs hallway trying to smash the bedroom doors off their frames.

There was a long stretch of silence, before two sharp, muffled pops made him clamp both hands over his mouth to keep from yelling—gunshots—then his bedroom door burst open.

Xander pressed his fist against his mouth trying not to make sound.

“They’re coming,” he whispered. “Oh God, Cassie, I don’t wanna die.”

Cassidy

Cassidy pushed his GT500 so fast the speedometer needle trembled near its limit as though it were begging for mercy.

One-fifty.

One-sixty-seven

One-seventy-five.

The Mustang tore through the sleeping city like a black bullet.

Cassidy had one hand gripping the wheel as he dialed on his business phone with the other, and Xander’s terrified breathing filling the Bluetooth in his ear.

“Please…please…”

Xander’s whispers were so broken and soft, Cassidy strained to hear him over the supercharged V8 Predator engine.

The fear in Xander’s voice was palpable—raw and stabbing.

Every one of his frightened breaths tightened something in Cassidy’s chest. But, despite the spiking adrenaline, he kept his voice level.

“Xander. I don’t want you to speak. Just press a button if you found a place to hide.”

Silence.

Then a beep sounded through the line.

Cassidy let out a soft exhale.

“Good,” he said in a hushed voice. “Stay hidden. I’m on my way and so are the police.”

He clenched his jaw at Xander’s shuddering breaths, and the faint sounds of him trying not to panic.

“Quiet, Xander,” he ordered. “Don’t make a sound. I’m almost there. I swear I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Damnit, he hoped he could keep that promise as he pressed his boot all the way down on the accelerator until it was touching the floorboard.

He muted Xander’s call and switched back to the other line.

When he’d first called God, he’d expected the lieutenant himself. Instead, his computer genius, Free, answered.

And thank Christ he did.

The hacker moved like lightning, as if critical tactical response was ingrained in him.

Within seconds Free had dispatched local law enforcement, LAPD SWAT, the city’s crises negotiation team, and mobilized God’s enforcers.

Before he could speak, Free started in as if he already knew what he was about to ask.