Page 46 of Stolen Omega

I can’t come back here again. I can’t let myself get that close.

I head down the corridor and check in on each of my stationed guards, making sure they’re all where they’re supposed to be. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from tonight’s wander backstage, it’s that I need to station a guard or two at the right wing back here. The venue’s guards have been pretty consistent up until now, but I don’t like that oversight. Respecting their territory is one thing, letting them leave a gap like that isn’t acceptable.

I send a couple of my guys to cover that area, diverting them from crowd control.

Then, I get to the loading bay, and check in with our man outside.

Castle’s an older guard who probably should have retired a few years back.

I’m glad he didn’t. He’s slower moving than he used to be, but he can still outrun most of the younger guys, and he’s the most honest person I’ve ever met. I know I can trust him, and that’s not something I can say about most of the rest of my guys.

“How’s it looking out here?” I ask as I reach him in the loading area.

“Well, the equipment van ain’t here yet, but I’ve been told it’ll be here before we need it.”

“Did the driver call?” I ask, ready to chase it up.

“Yeah. They had a tire blow out on the way in, but they had a spare. Just gonna be late, is all.”

Castle doesn’t seem concerned, but he never usually does.

The old man is used to taking things in stride.

His energy usually has a calming influence on me.

Tonight, my own energy is too riled up to let any outside influence in.

“Let me know when they get here,” I tell him.

He nods. “You’ll be the first to know.”

I head back to the tour bus, where Russ is impatiently waiting for me.

We don’t usually get the chance to work together, but tonight everything is different.

It’s unsettling, and I can’t help feeling like something is off.

“You’re back,” Russ says, getting up from the table. “What happened?”

He thinks I went to go check on something, because why else would I walk away from my station while he’s in the bathroom? I don’t know how to explain it, so I just shake my head.

“False alarm.”

He sits back down, his expression relaxing. “Okay. Good.”

“Anything on the monitors?” I ask, as his gaze flicks back to the monitors on the tablets in front of him.

“Nah. A couple of audience members are ignoring the no camera thing, and I’m pretty sure I saw a dealer selling weed outside the men’s room, but there’s nothing that might become a real threat.”

There never usually is. For the most part, the general public come to concerts to enjoy themselves, rather than to stir up trouble. It’s pretty rare that an audience member poses a threat to the act on stage.

“How ‘bout the bar? Any overly intoxicated patrons?”

He shakes his head as I sit down opposite him.

“Nah. Well, there was one woman who fell off her chair, but one of the venue guys checked her over and decided she was sober enough to stick around.” He looks up at me. “Please tell me this isn’t the gig from now on?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “This is what I’ve been doing for years, and you can’t handle an hour of it?”

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