by Bex Dane
Chapter 24
Falcon
"Door check," I whispered to the team via the communications headset.
Blaze, Diesel, and I were stationed to the right of the stage at The Met guarding Aida, Gaspar, and Matteo.
"Secure on one," Dallas replied.
Helix, Oz, Ruger, and two other guards from Dallas's team responded in the same fashion. We were sealed in tight.
The lights went down, the audience quieted, and the orchestra played an entrance song for Gaspar as he walked onto the stage. The roaring applause from the crowd made Aida smile but grated on my nerves.
Tickets to Gaspar's return to The Met had sold out in seconds, but security here always posed a challenge. The Met refused to allow wanding of patrons as they came in, and they limited our access backstage before the show. Even Gaspar couldn't get them to budge on those two weaknesses.
The fact a jet waited for us at JFK made us all edgy. Within twelve hours, we'd be meeting with King Ivan Sharshinbaev and slipping him the drink that would end his reign.
Tessa, Soraya, and Cecelia watched the show from their second-row seats. Rogan and Zook flanked them. Torrez sat in the front row. None of the guys had their eyes on the stage or the women. We were all on high-alert, amped up for Aida's first public performance since the last shooting.
The plan was to get the women together in the dressing room after the concert, hand them over to Dallas, Helix, and a team who would guard them at a safe house in upstate New York until we returned. Helix had returned my Sig to me, so I had two weapons tonight.
Gaspar sang his first song and took a bow. Everything was flowing smoothly.
He called Aida out on stage, and she made her grand entrance to the music of her signature aria from the opera. They embraced and she smiled at him as she spoke into the microphone.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to be back at the wonderful Metropolitan Opera with my beloved father figure, Gaspar Evaristo. After a horrible accident threatened to take his life, I thought I'd never return, not if he didn't. You'd think I would know sadness living Aida's life on the stage, but I promise you, there's no greater despair than watching a man you worship and adore fight for his life in a hospital bed."
Blaze, standing next to me, fidgeted his feet and cleared his throat as he glanced at the bandage on Diesel's head. Diesel gave him a glare. Idiots. Maybe this fucking time they'd get on with it.
Aida continued, "Gaspar Evaristo is God's precious gift to art. He shines as a beacon of light in the dark night, and he lives as an example to us all of valor and benevolence. Tonight our music will be a tribute to the beauty his life has brought to this world."
Gaspar, near tears, kissed her cheeks and beamed at her. They sang a duet of her signature aria from Aida, and the crowd loved it.
The spotlight narrowed in on her lone form against a dark cavernous stage as Gaspar took his place in the conductor's podium in front of the orchestra. Her royal purple gown glinted in the lights. It pushed up her boobs and flared out from her hips like a quinceañera gown.
Her face transformed into fifteen-year-old Magdalena. Vulnerable, insecure, and soft-spoken.
"Life isn't fair. Who lives or dies is out of our control. Fate can come at anytime and take innocent lives. This song is for the young women who lost their lives in St. Amalie." She raised a finger to her nose and sniffled. "For all the women out there who have had their future stolen from them, including my mother, and the heartbroken doves who wait in vain for their return."
Gaspar raised his baton, and the orchestra played the introductory strains to "Cucurrucucu Paloma."
She opened her mouth, and it happened again. Her voice seared my skin and woke up long-dead receptors. Art never moved me, but Aida's voice reached down and grabbed me by the balls, forcing me to feel it. It wasn't just her voice. It was her face and the way her body became a pillar of raw emotion. Everything I rejected, she embraced and made it grand.
When the crowd settled from the applause, she looked back at me for reassurance. No movement in the audience or house so things were going well. I gave her a nod to continue.
"This next song says love is letting go. This is hard because we want to hold onto what we love and letting go hurts. But… because I love him, I'm letting Thorne go." The audience murmured, and I scanned the crowd. If someone wanted to make a move, the break in the flow she created would be the ideal time. She raised her hand, palm up and waved it over to Thorne next to me. "Goodbye. I love you," she said with her eyes on Thorne. She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss.
I stepped closer to Thorne. "What the hell was that?"
"Divorce came through today. She signed it before the show," he whispered.
She divorced him and announced it publicly? Leave it to Aida to do it with a flourish.
Holy fuck.
She was free.
Matteo joined Aida on the stage, and they belted out "Perhaps Love" with fiery adoration in their eyes, but I knew she sang every note for me.
All kinds of possibilities flooded my mind, but no time for that shit. I always kept vigilant. Many years of fuckups had taught me one truth. The second you drop your guard, you're fucked.
"Bravo!" The standing crowd shouted and cheered. Gaspar returned to the stage and took a final bow in the arms of Aida and Matteo. Thank fuck this event was coming to an end with no incidents.
Aida's eyes found mine. She dipped a deep curtsey in my direction and gave me a glowing smile. I nodded back.
Good job, mi paloma. You have bewitched us all again.
My nerves eased as the audience left the venue. Blaze, Diesel, and I guided her, Matteo, Gaspar, and Thorne to the dressing room we had secured earlier. I cleared the room and allowed everyone to enter.
Torrez, Rogan, and Zook came in behind us with Soraya, Tessa, and Cecelia.
The women huddled around Aida. The guys stayed by the door.
"You were fantastic," Tessa said. "I had goosebumps."
"How did you learn to sing like that?" Cecelia asked her.
"Many years of practice," she answered humbly, but she had a God-given talent all the practice in the world could not imitate.
"I absolutely loved it and I don't even like opera," Soraya said.
"Good. I'm glad."
I turned to Rogan. "I'll stay here. Everyone else on halls and perimeter until the venue is empty."
He nodded and the guys fanned out.
Blaze came up to me with a smarmy grin on his face. "You got a backup weapon?"
"You feel the need to be up in my business?" I returned.
"Just saying, in case your side arm gets uh," he glanced at Aida, "wet."
Fucking Blaze. Probably watched us on the video feed. "Bro code, man. You cut the feed when the action starts."
He pulled his teeth over his lower lip like a teenager who just saw his first titty flick. "Enjoyed it. Can't pay for porn like that."
Asshole. "I have two weapons. Get the fuck out of here."
"That's good. Not letting you borrow mine. Ever." He waggled his eyebrows, thinking he was smart.
"Your gun could end up in Diesel's ass any moment now. Not touching nothing of yours."
Burn. His face turned red and he stuttered. I got him. "Go guard the fucking hall and make sure the place is empty."
He gave me a smartass salute and smiled at Aida and the girls.
I closed the door and watched them chat. Aida spoke with her hands and the women laughed. They looked like fast friends already. I could see on her face she loved being the shining center of attention and a chance to make new friends.
Rogan's knock sounded at the door. His voice followed in my ear. "We got company."
I opened it to see my father standing there with a bouquet of red roses in his hands. He raised the flowers. "For the señorita."
The girls stopped talking and stared at us in the doorway.
"Told you never come near her." I spoke in Spanish to my father. Behin
d him, Rogan patted him down and removed his gun. He handed it to me, and I tucked it in my belt.
My father allowed all this with a calm demeanor.
"You may take my gun, Primitivo. She's the closest thing to a daughter I've ever known."
Goddamn asshole took the money and went back on his word. I should've known better than to make a deal with the devil. "She's not your daughter and not interested in a relationship with you. So get out."
I felt Aida approach behind me. "What is it, Falcon?" she asked in English.
"My father wishes to speak with Magdalena Esperanza," I responded in English so everyone in the room could be a witness if something went down.
"I am not her." Aida lied.
"I can see you are her as sure as Claudia were standing here in front of me," my father said with longing in his eyes for her.
"I don't know anyone named Claudia."
"If you were Magdalena, and I'm sure you are and deceiving me, I would simply ask that we could be a family. I loved your mother. Manuel took her from me, but I've missed her for many years."
Aida stared at him, confused. My father was a master manipulator. His plea now confused me too. But I wasn't stupid. He could never earn my trust.
"That's unfortunate, but you have the wrong person." Aida's continued lie to him told me she didn't trust him either.
"Fine. Then, Aida..." My father bowed to her. "Allow me to give you these roses. Your performance tonight was magical."
I took the roses and handed them to Rogan. "Trash these."
My father frowned at the lost flowers but continued to talk to Aida, "I am Guillermo de la Cruz. Primitivo's father. Surely you recognize me."
"I don't, but it's nice to meet you, Mr. de la Cruz. If you don't mind, my friends and I are having a private celebration and…"
I didn't hear the rest of Aida's sentence because a shot rang out in my earpiece. Helix's urgent voice came through the comms. "He got past me. He's coming your way. Be ready."
As Helix spoke, Rogan and I made eye contact. We pushed the girls, Gaspar, Soledad, Matteo, and Thorne to the bathroom we had converted into a safe room.
"Active shooter." Helix's frantic voice and running footsteps came through in my ear piece. More shots. "Shit. More than one. Need backup here on the south side of the building. There could be more on the other side. Who's over there?"
"This is Dallas on the south side. I don't see anyone."
"They're running into the storage area. Need backup. I'm going in."
Another gunshot drew screams from the women. Zook and Torrez had drawn their weapons and stood guard at the open door of the safe room. "Zook, you stay with them. Nobody but me. Open this for no one but me."
He nodded, holding his gun ready. He looked scared too, but in control.
"Who is that, Primitivo? Who is shooting?" my father asked.
Before I closed the door, Aida screamed, "Those are the men who killed my mother!"
"We don't know who it is," I snapped at her.
"Give me my weapon, Primitivo." My father held out his hand.
"No." As if I would give Satan a weapon in the middle of a gun fight.
"If they killed Claudia, they are my enemy too. I'll help you. We fight together again."
Fuck it. To save time, I handed him the weapon. "Get away from Aida and stay in front of me." Let him betray me, give me cause to kill him. A test under pressure.
He nodded, took the weapon, and moved to the door. I stayed close behind him, prepared for him to make a move. He didn't. He took measured steps into the hallway with his gun drawn, ready to fight by my side. Maybe my father wasn't lying. Maybe he really wanted to make amends. I'd have to think about that later because automatic fire echoed through the corridor and people were running and screaming to get away.
As Rogan and I braced, my father turned and aimed his weapon at me.
I nailed him in the neck with a roundhouse kick before he could get a shot off. He grunted as I yanked his arms behind his back, threw him to the ground, and tied his hands with a zip tie.
"You fucking mother fucker. Betray me while I'm taking fire."
He didn't reply or fight the restraints.
"We gotta go." Rogan kept his aim down the hallway. "Leave him."
"At least three shooters. Where the fuck are you guys?" Helix called over the comms.
"Torrez and Blaze are on their way. They're not there yet?" I replied.
"Okay shit. I see them."
"We're coming too. Where are you?"
"South entrance to the set storage area." We ran through the corridor in the direction of the shots. We reached the storage area and spread out along the walls.
All the actors and staff had evacuated the backstage area. A long silence passed with no shots. My heart pounded loudly in my chest.
I grabbed a chair and tossed it to the middle of the room. The shooter revealed his location when he shot at it, and Rogan shot him. A guy in a suit fell. He could be Russian, but hard to tell.
I took point down the hall, Rogan at my six. We moved slowly, listening for any movement. We heard running and heavy breathing in the comms, but no shots.
Where the fuck were the other shooters?
We turned a corner and there. Hiding behind the stage, another guy in a tux, crouched down. He got several shots off aimed at us. I unloaded four bullets into him and he collapsed. "Two down," Rogan called.
The gunfire through the comms ceased.
"Got one more here," Helix replied.
"Did you see more than three?" Rogan asked.
"I saw three," Helix replied.
"Clear it," Rogan called in the comms. If there were only three, we got them all.
"Open the door!" My father's yell came from back in the dressing room where we'd left the women.
I snagged the shooter's weapon from his dying body and stalked back to the hallway where I'd left my father. There was nothing there. Where did he go?
"Open the door!" My father's voice again.
"Get away from the fucking door, or I'll shoot you through it." Zook's voice. He was bluffing. I'd told him the door was bulletproof.
I found my father on the floor in front of the door. "Lena, she's not dead. I will bring you to her, just please, open the door."
He was lying to her to save his damn life. "Don't open the door, Zook," I said.
"Not," his muffled voice answered back.
My dad rolled to his side, his arms tied behind his back. "Tivo." He must've scooted there on his belly like a worm. "Mercy. Please. Forgive me."
I aimed the shooter's rifle at this head. "Too late, Papá."
Six rounds hit him fast in the face and chest. Watched my father's body shake, the shock on his eyes, blood starting to pour.
It was over. No more battle. I won.
I walked the rifle back to the shooter and left it by his hand.
Rogan was the only one who saw me. "Shooter hit my father."
He hated when I did illegal shit, but he'd back me if I asked him to and I was asking. He nodded.
"Looks clear," Helix said. Dallas and the other guys all responded with clear as they checked through the opera house.
Torrez came running into the room. "Everyone okay?"
I dragged my father's body out of the way so Aida wouldn't have to step over him. "Let's get them out."
We opened the door to a group of terrified people hunched in the corner.
"It's okay now," I said.
Aida ran into my arms and cried. "What happened?"
"We'll talk later. Need to get you out of the building first."
Sirens approached.
Aida gasped when she saw my father's body.
"Shooter got him. There's lots of bodies. Don't look."
NYPD showed up. "Hands up. Police."
I raised my hands but blocked Aida. "We're security. We neutralized the threat."
"I don't give a fuck who you are. Keep your hands up until we disarm you an
d clear the building."
"We cleared the fucking building."
We had a long night ahead of us explaining this shit to the authorities.
Guess we'd be late for our flight to Veranistaad, but nothing would deter us. Ivan would be the next to die.
Chapter 25
Aida
Falcon refused to cancel the trip to Veranistaad.
I refused to give up on the sting operation.
After a lot of fighting that ended in angry sex, we agreed to reschedule everything as soon as possible. They wanted to get to Ivan before he heard the news of the dead hitmen at the Met gala.
Falcon and Alpha Squadron left New York after two grueling days of interrogations by the NYPD, FBI, and the CIA. We had agreed to keep the sting and plans to murder Ivan secret. The questioning was tough, but I'd held firm.
While they were gone, Isabella and Thorne helped me move all the planned escort meetings from last night to tomorrow night. It kept my mind off the insane danger of their mission.
They'd returned late in the afternoon today. Falcon only said everything was "fine" and I didn't ask the details. I was so happy he'd made it back safely, I jumped him and we spent the rest of the day in bed.
Now I was pissed because Falcon chose the absolute wrong moment to "inform" me I would be directing the sting from Boston, where we had a smaller group of women scheduled, instead of New York, where more of the action would happen.
"I'm not going to Boston," I said again.
His arm tightened around my waist as he held me from behind. "You fucking are," he growled in my ear.
"I have twice as many meet ups scheduled here in the city."
"And that's why you're going to Boston."
"Ivan is dead. Your father is dead. There is no one left to kill me."
Falcon pushed up out of the bed, which he knew bothered me. He knew I liked it when he stayed. "No one except a bunch of angry pimps who just had their cash flow cut off because Ivan dropped dead."
"I can stay at the shelter in New York."
"You will stay at the hotel in Boston." He pulled up his jeans, which he also knew I hated. It created distance between us.
I stood up and held the sheet in front of me. He glared at it. He didn't like barriers either. "Gah! You are so frustrating!"
