Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

42

Heather

The shooting attempt at the party made national news. There was a lot of speculation as to who the intended target was. I guess most people weren’t aware of Amirah Pratt’s specific threats.

But among the people who were in-the-know, specifically here in Los Angeles, it was terrible publicity for HLS Security. It didn’t matter that Amirah Pratt was safe the entire time, and that no harm had come to her. The fact that the shooter was able to get several gunshots off, and then got away, was bad enough to tank their reputation.

Rogan came up to the residence one night and announced that they lost two more clients in Southern California, and one up in the Bay Area. Word was spreading among the personal security industry: the company owned by Rogan, Brady, and Asher was failing to keep its clients safe.

In happier news, the kids were back to their good behavior, and improving every day. Patty didn’t mind watching them one afternoon so I could go to my acting class with Maurice. Yet I struggled to focus as we went through the acting exercises. All I could think about was the hotel, and the man who had aimed a gun at my face, and his bloodshot, yellow eyes, and how guilty I felt for screwing up Brady’s chance of catching him.

At the end of class, when we met in private, Mr. Howard praised me for my job on the commercial.

“A big part of this industry is learning to work with people who are a pain in the behind,” he told me. “That director wanted to stretch out the commercial to squeeze as much money out of the financer as possible. You did a fine job. It takes commitment to put as much effort into your hundredth take as the first one.”

“You didn’t see my first one,” I pointed out. “You came on day two.”

“The gaffer on set, Roberto, is an old friend of mine,” he replied. “He told me how well you did, given the circumstances. I’m proud of you, Heather.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Mr. Howard.”

“Now that you have some good resume material, you can start looking for real agents. I’ve got a list of the best options for you, although I would highly recommend pushing for the first two names.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk.

I looked, but I didn’t pick it up. “I’ve been thinking about things. I want to hold off on searching for an agent. I’m spending the next few months finishing this nanny job, and then I’ll focus on my career.”

Mr. Howard gave me a withering stare. “What have I told you? There are no shortcuts in this industry. Maybe you’ll get a boost from these people, but you should still be putting in the groundwork in the mean time.”

Not wanting to argue, I picked up the sheet and said, “You’re right. I’ll give these agents a call.”

Asher made peanut-crusted chicken and green beans, but I barely touched it. A geyser of nausea pulsed from my stomach whenever I imagined the shooter aiming a gun at my face. The children were full of energy and good cheer as they ate their meals, but the dads were quiet and brooding. I did my best to engage with the kids, but I found myself mirroring the gloomy mood of the adults.

After dinner, the kids cleaned their plates and watched cartoons in the living room. I watched them from the table while the dads discussed the most recent events.

“Filming was supposed to start last week, but they’ve delayed it due to concerns about Amirah’s safety,” Rogan explained. “The studio is pissed about the delay. There are rumors that they’re considering replacing Amirah with another actress.”

I gave a start. “They’ll just drop her?”

“The other actors are concerned about their own safety,” Asher said. “Especially after the shooting at the hotel. Nobody wants to stand next to someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a human lightning rod.”

“And if Amirah gets dropped,” Brady finished for him, “she and The Weiman Agency will give us the boot and hire someone else.”

“Like Heimdall.” Rogan gritted his teeth. “I just know Jimmy Cardannon is salivating at the opportunity.”

“Do we have any more evidence that Heimdall was behind the shooting at the hotel?” I asked.

Asher shook his head. “The gun recovered from the scene was black-market—no serial number. There were no fingerprints. The hotel room wasn’t registered to anyone. The shooter stole a hotel janitorial keycard to gain access.”

“The fucker got away, too,” Brady cursed. “He ditched his ski mask and blended in with the crowd after the fire alarm. Walked right out the building.”

“I’m convinced,” Rogan said definitively. “That event proves that it’s Heimdall.”

Asher blinked in surprise. “How do you figure?”

“In the first attack, at Amirah’s house, there were two attackers. At the hotel, there was only one. This makes no sense if it’s two stalkers working together. But it does make sense if it’s all coordinated by someone like Cardannon. Two hired goons for the first job, and just one for the second.”

“That’s bullshit,” Brady said. “We don’t know there was only one guy there. The second one might’ve been down near the party. Or on another floor.”

“You really believe that?” Rogan shot back.

Brady jabbed a finger in his direction. “I’m just pointing out reasonable doubt. I think Heimdall’s responsible too, I really do, but we don’t got the proof yet.”

“Oh.” Asher sat up straighter in his chair and adjusted his glasses. “That reminds me. The hotel sent over the security footage from that night. I found something that implicates Heimdall.”

“Well, shit,” Brady said, shoving back from his chair. “Why didn’t you say so?”

The four of us went into the office and watched Asher login to the computer. He clicked through several directories before finding the video file he wanted. The video maximized on the screen.

It was security footage, probably taken from a camera mounted in the ceiling, based on the angle. It showed the entrance to the sushi restaurant that was in the hotel lobby, next to the front desk. From this vantage, we could see the first five tables inside.

Asher let the video play for a while, then suddenly paused it. He pointed at a bald man who was walking into the restaurant. “There. Just after seven o’clock. Recognize him?”

“It kind of looks like Jimmy Cardannon,” Rogan said. “But we can’t really be sure. He’s facing the other way.”

“Oh. Yes. Um. One moment.” Asher fast-forwarded the video. The man zoomed into the restaurant, then reappeared at one of the tables just inside the open door. Asher paused it again.

“Fuck me sideways,” Brady muttered. “That’s Cardannon, all right. I’d recognize his ugly mug anywhere.”

“I knew it.” Rogan slammed a fist down on the desk, causing the keyboard to bounce. “It can’t be a coincidence that he was there that night.”

“Who does he meet with?” I insisted. The ski mask had obscured the shooter’s face, but I was confident I could recognize his build and clothes. Maybe I could help nail him after all!

“Unfortunately, nobody,” Asher replied.

“What do you mean, nobody?” Rogan pushed forward and clicked play on the mouse. We watched the video continue at 4X speed, then 8X. Cardannon received a plate of food, wolfed it down rapidly, then nursed a drink before leaving. Altogether, he had been there for an hour and twenty minutes.

“What about the other footage?” Rogan insisted. “He must have met with the shooter. If we have video of him going up to the room on the ninth floor, then we have him dead to rights.”

“Cardannon never went upstairs,” Asher replied calmly. “He never met with anyone. He uses valet parking in front of the hotel, eats dinner at the restaurant, then immediately leaves.”

Rogan let out an angry groan. I had never seen him this frustrated before. It made me feel even more guilty for screwing things up at the hotel.

“We can take this to the police,” Rogan said. “Tell them everything we suspect about Cardannon and Heimdall.”

“Take what to the police?” Asher asked. “It is not illegal to eat dinner at the hotel restaurant.”

“He must have met with the shooter nearby the hotel, rather than inside,” Rogan replied.

Asher shrugged. “I suspect you may be correct, but we have no evidence of that.”

“What about confronting him?” Brady suggested. “Roll over to his place, the way he showed up here one day, and tell him we know everything.”

“That would be a mistake,” Asher said. He removed his glasses and cleaned them with a small cloth. “At this moment, we have an advantage because we know he was there that night. He is not aware of our knowledge.”

“Then what do we do with that knowledge?” Rogan demanded.

Asher replaced his glasses on his nose. “I don’t know.”

Now it was Brady’s turn to let out a frustrated growl. “I can’t believe we fucken missed him. The hotel was our chance to nail that asshole and prove it was Heimdall’s goons all along. We’re not going to get another chance to flush them out again.”

“Not without risking Amirah again,” Rogan added. “Which is the last thing we want to do.”

“Let’s focus on what we can control,” Asher said patiently. “Filming begins in two days. I looked at the film schedule Amirah’s agent provided. The first two weeks of shooting is done outside, in downtown Los Angeles.”

“Perfect. Just perfect,” Rogan muttered. “There’s no way we can keep her one hundred percent safe outside. We can’t lockdown all of LA.”

While they deliberated, I thought about what Amirah herself must be going through. Trying to advance her career while knowing someone was trying to kill her. I imagined myself on set, filming my first movie, worrying about my next scene and how I was going to act—while worrying that, at any moment, someone might start shooting at me. I didn’t know if I could handle that.

Poor Amirah, I thought. She just wants to live her life, and meanwhile people are trying to bring her down. Looking back on it, I was lucky that Maurice and I had sneaked into the Lakers suite six weeks ago, before Amirah Pratt hired HLS Security. If we tried something like that now, while her security was so much tighter, we would have gotten caught and probably arrested. And I definitely wouldn’t have been able to masquerade as the actress.

I blinked to myself.

Wait a minute.

The idea formed in my head like a thundercloud, swirling and manifesting into something powerful. It was a bold plan, but one which would help the three men I cared about. And it would absolve me of all my guilt for screwing things up at the hotel.

It would make things right.

Rogan and Asher were arguing about extra security when I interrupted them. “I know how we can flush Heimdall out. We need to get them to attack Amirah again. We’ll put her out in the open and lure them to her.”

“Amirah will never go for that,” Rogan said.

“No, she won’t,” I agreed. “Which is why we’re going to use me instead.”