Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

46

Brady

This whole thing was fucking stupid, and I was the only one who seemed to realize it.

We were in the film trailer on set. Three video experts sat in front of eighteen computer screens along one wall, which showed the set from every available angle. That was for the purposes of filming some big pyrotechnics scene coming up, but it also made for a perfect setting for us to monitor everything going on around Heather.

“All available agents, announce your position,” I said over the open channel.

“Cooper, at the set with Happy Holiday.”

“Lopez, at the northwest intersection.”

“Crowe here, I’m outside the Starbucks behind the south roadblock.”

“Matthews, I’m in front of the west roadblock.”

As they sounded off, I noted their locations on a map of the film site. We had four extra security agents on-site today, both to keep Heather as safe as possible, and to ensure we caught the bastards doing this. Plus the film studio had their own security on-site. Not to mention the LAPD officers at the roadblocks. There was a short list of people who were allowed inside the set, a list which I had personally vetted before today. This place was tighter than a tick’s asshole.

We weren’t taking any chances.

Asher stepped over to me and lowered his voice. “That’s the third sound-off you’ve called in the last ten minutes.”

“I’m keeping everyone alert,” I replied stubbornly. “I don’t want anyone getting lazy.”

Asher clapped me on the back reassuringly. “Everything will be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that,” he replied, “because we’re going to make sure it’s fine.”

I grimaced. “That’s what worries me, Asher. If something does happen to Heather it will be our fault, and…”

I trailed off as the door opened and the last person I wanted to see walked into the film trailer.

“Jimmy fucken Cardannon?” I growled.

Rogan whirled on him. “What are you doing here?”

Cardannon took a look around the trailer and adjusted his suit jacket. “We were hired by Pedro Ortega, the male lead. He doesn’t feel safe with the current environment created by Amirah Pratt’s… situation. I’m here to keep an eye on things.”

I couldn’t believe he was here, in person. It was like he was mocking us with his presence. I clenched my fist and prepared to go off on him.

But Rogan beat me to it.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on?” Rogan got up in his face like an MMA fighter at a weigh-in. “First you show up at the restaurant where the first hotel shooting occurred, and now you’re here, on set?”

Cardannon’s shit-eating grin grew wider. “That restaurant has the best sushi in town. I was actually hoping to meet with some of the actors at the party and convince them to obtain Heimdall’s services, but your shoddy company botched the job so much that I didn’t have to. I ought to thank you.”

He extended his hand, and Rogan slapped it away. “I ought to kick your ass right fucking here.”

Rogan pulled back a fist, and I grabbed it before he had a chance to do exactly that. Asher grabbed him from the other side and we pulled our friend away before he could do something he would regret.

“Don’t worry—I have two Heimdall agents patrolling the roadblocks,” Cardannon said. “Since your little outfit cannot protect Amirah Pratt, we’ll do it for you. She can give all the autographs she wants without worrying a hair on her pretty little head.”

Rogan opened his mouth, then hesitated. I was thinking the same thing as him: did Cardannon know that Heather was acting as a double? If so, the plan was doomed from the start. We were making fools of ourselves.

Cardannon smiled widely around the room. “I’m going to make the rounds. I prefer to be out among the crowds, rather than growing soft in the air conditioning. When The Weiman Agency drops you and hires Heimdall once and for all, I’ll buy you boys a pint to make up for it.”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I said. “We’re going to stop you.”

“I doubt that.” He chuckled to himself. “What, no quips about my pale complexion? No remarks about putting sunscreen on my head? You three truly must be concerned about your business. As you should be.” He continued laughing as he left.

“Do you think he knows?” I asked.

Rogan shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like it. He wouldn’t have been able to resist making fun of our plan.”

“We ran background checks on everyone working on set,” Asher said thoughtfully. “Yet if Cardannon is here…”

He could have inserted anyone here, I thought. The set wasn’t as locktight as we thought.

“Do you think he would try it,” I said, “even though he knows we’re here, trying to stop him?”

“I think he’s cocky enough to think he can get away with it,” Rogan replied. “Doing it right underneath our noses would be so much more embarrassing for us.”

“That would emphatically cause us to lose the Weiman contract,” Asher agreed.

“We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears sharp,” Rogan said firmly. “Heather will be giving out autographs right after the pyrotechnics scene. Be ready.”

“Should I try to spot the two agents he said he has outside the roadblock?” Asher asked.

“Don’t bother,” I replied. “I’ll bet a thousand bucks it’s a distraction.”

Rogan nodded. “I agree with Brady. Everyone keep focusing on your assignments.”

I found the computer screen showing the director’s location. Heather was standing a few feet back, shifting from one foot to the other in her green dress. I clenched my jaw so tight that my teeth began to ache.

We’ll protect you, Heather.

“Ready in the control room,” one of the film guys said behind the desk. He was speaking into a walkie-talkie. “All cameras in position.”

I had never seen a movie being filmed before. It was pretty cool listening to the film guys coordinating with the pyrotechnics team and the individual cameramen all around the set. A forty-foot-tall pillar of stone and glass was the focus of everyone’s attention, a structure that was designed to look like the corner of a skyscraper. Men in hardhats spooled wire away from it until they were a hundred feet away, over with the director and Heather and the rest of the crew. A sound like a tornado siren blared outside, warning everyone to keep away.

One of the guys in the trailer spoke into his walkie-talkie: “Prepare for demolition in four, three, two…”

There was no big explosion, just a sudden flash of light around the base of the stone pillar. I felt the concussive blast in my feet, and then the whole structure began to collapse in on itself. The screens in the trailer showed the scene from a dozen different angles. The film guys spat out a flurry of commands into their radios.

“Demolition was clean, but airborne debris is larger than anticipated.”

“Shot completed—get clear of the dust cloud.”

“Wind has shifted to the south-west. Move north to avoid.”

I saw what they were talking about on the screens: the demolition had created a huge grey dust cloud. It spread out in all directions, but mostly to the south and west—toward the director and his crew.

“No! No! No!” the director was shouting. “You said the wind was to the east.”

The crew began scattering. The food truck behind Heather quickly began closing its windows like it was preparing to leave, scattering condiment jars and napkins in all directions.

“I don’t like this,” I said.

Rogan continued staring at the screen, eyes wide and intense.

“Could this be the attack?” Asher asked. “Airborne particles in the dust cloud?”

“Get her out of there,” Rogan spoke into his radio. “I repeat: extricate Happy Holiday immediately. Abort the mission.”

On the screen, Cooper put an arm around Heather and began leading her away, but by then it was too late. The huge cloud of dust and debris was rolling over them like waves over a sand castle, veiling everyone in a thick grey haze.

“Visibility is decreased,” Cooper said. “Extricating Happy Holiday south to…” He cut off in a fit of coughing.

The film guys in the trailer were laughing at the scene. “Sherman’s going to be pissed!”

In any other context, it might have been funny: a bunch of Hollywood elite suddenly engulfed in a cloud of dust, ruining whatever designer clothes they might be wearing. The dust wasn’t filled with fiberglass or other particles that might be dangerous to inhale. It would just cause some discomfort for a day or two.

But Rogan, Asher, and I were beginning to panic.

“I’ve lost visual on Happy Holiday,” Asher said. He tapped one of the film guys and said, “Can you zoom in on screen six?”

“Sure, buddy, but it won’t do any good…”

I pulled out my phone, which had the tracking app on it. Heather was still smack in the middle of the dust. She had moved a few feet, but otherwise hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Cooper: get her back to the trailer!” Rogan shouted into his radio.

A sickening thought suddenly came to me. “Rogan. What if that’s the point? To get her to return to the trailer, where an ambush is waiting?”

Pure terror flashed in his eyes. “Lopez, get to Happy Holiday’s trailer ASAP.”

“Hard copy.”

The door suddenly flew open and Jimmy Cardannon burst inside. He was holding his own walkie-talkie to his mouth, and he gazed up at the screens. “I don’t see Pedro Ortega on any of the screens.”

“He was in the cloud, with the director and Amirah,” one of the film guys told him.

Rogan growled at Cardannon. “Is this your plan? Use the demolition as a distraction?”

Cardannon ignored him while listening to the radio. He was sweating, and nervously rubbing his thumb and finger together. He was a cocky guy; I had never seen him nervous before.

“I don’t care about the roadblocks,” Cardannon cursed into the radio, “move forward and get Pedro to safety.”

I let out a long, relieved breath. Cardannon hadn’t orchestrated this as a distraction. It wasn’t part of the plan to harm Amirah.

Which meant that aside from dust inhalation, Heather was safe. I stared at the dot on my GPS app and began to relax.

Just then, the cloud of dust began to dissipate. One of the crew members had found an industrial-sized box fan used to keep the actors cool, and had turned it on to banish the dust. One by one, the director and others became visible again, covering their faces and frantically waving their hands.

“Cooper, come in,” Rogan said. “We’ve lost visual on your location. Did you and Happy Holiday return to the trailer?”

There was no response.

I frowned at my phone. “I still have Happy Holiday in the same location as before, next to the director…” I trailed off and squinted at the screen. “She should be right there. Where is she?”

“Lopez?” Rogan demanded.

“I’m at the trailer,” Lopez answered. “No sign of Cooper or Happy Holiday.”

My stomach sank.

Rogan and Asher started shouting at the film guys to zoom in, but I knew the truth in my gut. I ran from the trailer out into the sunshine, turning toward the set at a dead sprint.

No, no, no, I thought, panicked. Please no.

I reached the director, who was shouting at someone, anyone, to get him a bottle of water. Heather and Cooper had been just to the left, but now there was no sight of them. According to the app, she should have been right here.

“Brady?” Asher asked in my earpiece. “Do you have visual?”

I whirled around in all directions. Panic gripped my chest and made it difficult to breathe.

Then I noticed something over by a crate of water bottles. A pair of expensive black heels, which Asher had inserted a GPS tracking chip into.

“Negative,” I said in a shaky voice. “Happy Holiday is gone. Heather is gone.”