Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

19

Brady

I was in the back seat of the car, hunched low while waiting for my target.

People thought a lot of things about the Navy SEALs. There were books about it, TV shows, and even movies. A lot of the information was bullshit. Sometimes exaggerated, and other times downplayed. Nobody knew what it was really like except those of us who actually lived it. Who put in the work and did the job.

But we were good at what we did. That much was true. Our missions typically required stealth and precision. Other fighting units acted like machetes, cutting through enemies in wide swaths. The SEALs were like a scalpel wielded by a master surgeon.

Clean, quick, and effective.

What I was doing now, hunched down in the back seat of a car? This was more like spy shit. I didn’t have a weapon on me. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t have a proper weapon like my sidearm. I just had a knife in my pocket, and nothing else. I was here to gather intel.

That was usually Asher’s gig. He liked that sort of thing. Me? I was fidgety. To me, five minutes sitting around felt like fifty.

While I waited, I thought about the kids. Especially the boys. It had only been a couple of days, but their behavior was improving. Don’t get me wrong—Dustin and Micah were far from angels. They were still little demons. But they were slightly improved demons. From, like, one of the outer rings of hell.

Heather was perfect for the job, all right.

Rogan, Asher, and I got discharged from the SEALs before there were any women candidates. But I got to meet one a few years back who had just graduated from the Naval Special Warfare Preparatory School. This girl was a bad-ass of the first degree. She was able to complete the same BUD-SEAL Qualification Training program as the rest of us guys. Not easy while weighing forty pounds less than me. And from what I heard from her teammates, she didn’t take any shit from the guys, and dished it out with the best of them.

Heather reminded me of her. She was feisty, with a chip on her shoulder. She was the kind of woman who looked at everyone with an expression that says, I dare you to underestimate me.

I knew our kids were in good hands. She would be able to fix the terrible parenting job we had done so far.

Suddenly I saw my mark up ahead. He was exiting the building from one of the stairwell side doors, rather than using the front entrance. Sneaky fucker.

I ducked lower in my seat. This part of the parking lot didn’t have any lights, and I was totally veiled in darkness. I began counting out the distance in my head. I had already walked it myself: it took twenty-nine seconds to get from the stairwell door to the car. Plus or minus two seconds depending on his stride. I slipped the knife from my pocket and held it at my side.

Four, three, two, one…

Right on time, the driver door opened. The SUV shifted as the man slid inside. I waited until he closed the door before springing forward, sliding the knife around the headrest until it was pressed firmly against my mark’s neck.

“One move and you’re fucken dead,” I warned.

The man froze, then twisted his head. “What the hell is touching my neck?” Rogan asked. “It’s warm.”

I slid over in the back seat so I could look at him, then held the knife up to my teammate’s face. “It’s a rubber knife. One of Dustin’s toys.”

Rogan’s eyes flashed with anger. “Why aren’t you scouting Amirah’s stalker?”

“Already finished. Guy’s harmless. Roughed him up a bit and put the fear of Jesus in him.” I twirled the rubber knife in my fingers, then jabbed it in his direction. “The fuck are you doing at the Four Seasons?”

It was still dark in our SUV, and the only illumination came from the dashboard lights. But I had known Rogan for a long-ass time, and I could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that he was about to lie.

“I gave Heather a ride back here,” he said.

“Yeah, an hour ago,” I replied. “You’ve been inside since then.”

“We got a drink together.”

“Was that drink hidden in her panties?” I shot back. “Because you smell like sex.”

Rogan unclenched his jaw and sagged back against the seat. “I’m surprised you can smell it on me. We took a bath after.”

I made a tsk tsk sound. “Sex don’t just smell like snatch and come. Sex smells like satisfaction. And buddy, you smell awfully satisfied. The fuck are you thinking?”

“Don’t tell Asher.”

“She’s the nanny,” I scolded.

“I know.”

“You told us not to sniff around her because taking care of the kids was the most important thing.”

“I know.”

I pressed the rubber knife against his arm. “You said that anything that jeopardized the nanny position…”

“I know!” he snapped, losing control for a moment. He twisted to look directly at me. “I know what I said. I meant it at the time. But I couldn’t help myself.”

I leaned back in my seat. “Giving an order and then disobeying it yourself? You never would’ve pulled this shit when we were in the SEALs.”

“We’re not in the SEALs anymore,” he said. “And what Heather and I are doing is just physical.”

He was lying again. I knew it just like I knew that Teddy Fucken Williams was the best to ever play the game of baseball. But I wasn’t gonna call him out on it. Rogan didn’t like being backed into a corner, and I was already cornering him enough as it was.

“You should be watching Amirah’s stalker,” he said, shifting gears.

“Already told you I handled it. He’s an internet troll living in his momma’s basement. Made the same threat to a dozen other actresses. When I got home and you were gone, I decided to see if you were here. And whaddaya know? You were.”

“You could have just asked me,” Rogan said quietly.

“And you would’ve lied. I like my way better.” I flipped the knife end over and. “Plus, I got to pretend to be James Bond. Fucken sweet, right?”

Rogan closed his eyes. “Don’t tell Asher.”

“No can do, buddy.”

“You know how he is. If he finds out…”

“We gotta tell him,” I insisted. Rogan was my CO when we were in the SEALs, and he generally ran things at HLS Security, but I bit off every word with as much authority as an Admiral. “We’re a family. We got three kids together. We can’t keep secrets—not about the small stuff, and not about the big stuff. And buddy, this is a big thing.” I used the knife to point toward the Four Seasons. “You wanna make this mistake? Then own up to it like a fucken man.”

My words seemed to get through to him. Sometimes we all needed a little tough love. He nodded once and said, “You’re right. I’ll tell him.”

“Atta boy,” I said, kicking up my feet on the front console. “Now chauffeur me to Ginger’s Divine. I want some ice cream. Chop chop, driver.” I clapped my hands together twice.

Rogan stared back at me icily.

“Fine, all right, geez. I shouldn’t have pushed my luck.”

I climbed into the front passenger seat. Only then did Rogan start the engine and pull out of the parking lot.

“So?” I asked. “What’s she like in bed? I hear actresses get freaky.”

“You’re pushing your luck again.”

“If you don’t tell me,” I explained, “then I’m just gonna use my imagination.”

He stopped at a red light and slowly twisted his head to glare at me.

“Fine, be that way,” I said, staring out the window. “You’re no fun.”