Page 6 of Not the Bodyguard's Princess
“Who? How?”
“Have you ever heard of Hastings Security out of Chicago? September Platt uses them.”
“Is that Jethro and Melanie Hastings? They’re still in the business? I hired them almost forty years ago when I performed in a stage production there.”
“I believe so. I’ve been talking with two of the sons, Adam and Andrew. As they were leaving, Andrew said something about working with me, and one of the Hearthfire guards was outside the door, so I clarified that he would be guarding Princess. The look on his face is going in my laughter file.” Jordan didn’t need to explain about the gaff. Her grandmother was more than aware of the intricacies of her bodyguard situation.
“I assume someone from Hearthfire can hear you now?”
“They are standing on the other side of the hospital-room door.”
“Wait, are you in the hospital?”
“Yes. When Blake took me to the ground, I hit my head hard. They want to watch me overnight. A plastic surgeon stitched, or rather, glued, me back together.” Jordan hoped no one had told Grandma what the surgeon suspected. She hadn’t been cut by hitting a rock. Rather, a bullet had grazed the side of her forehead. Her hospital stay probably had more to do with keeping her out of public access than it did her headache. “He took three bullets for me, Grandma.” Tears threatened to choke off her words, her acting skills no longer covering up her feelings like they had the last few hours. Blake was more than a bodyguard. He’d been her surrogate father for years. Which might account for the relatively few dates and fewer boyfriends she’d had.
“Oh, sweetheart, I wish I was there. But it would take me at least two days to get there, and I’m due in London first.”
“Don’t cut your tour short because of me. I’m not injured badly, and I would feel guilty. September is here, and she is very helpful. I’m not alone.”
“I know. But I’d rather be there with you.”
“Thanks, Grandma. I don’t know if I want you here. I’d probably worry more about you.” Grandma Claire was the only family Jordan had left. No way would she put her in danger.
“I have my own bodyguards. Hearthfire isn’t going to dictate security to Claire Lee.” Grandma slipped into referring to herself in the third person as she often did when referring to her acting career.
“I can have one too. As soon as I clear up a little canine misunderstanding.”
“I’m sure he’s thrilled to know he’s guarding Princess.” Grandma’s voice held a bit of humor. “You’ll be in my prayers, bunny. Let me know as soon as you know more about Blake.”
“I will, Grandma.”
Jordan disconnected the call and texted September to let her know it was safe to return to the room.
* * *
Dog? Surely she couldn’t mean he would be guarding the mutt the actress had toted around the last year. “Her emotional-support dog,” claimed the media. Andrew followed September and Adam to the closest elevator. He waited until the doors closed and they were alone before talking. “Was she serious? Her dog?”
September stifled a giggle with her hand. “You probably didn’t hear me complaining to Adam about the Hearthfire contract. Paul, the producer, decided he doesn’t want independent personal security on-site. Fortunately, they wanted me bad enough they made an exception, but I can only have a team of two, not the usual four. I may or may not have claimed that not having a bodyguard caused me emotional distress and I couldn’t sing.” Understandable. Anyone who followed September’s career the past two years knew how much damage one bad bodyguard could do. However, given her former bodyguard’s plea deal, most people were blissfully unaware of the depth of betrayal September endured at his hands.
“Are you trying to tell me I’m really not guarding her dog?”
“On paper, I’m sure that is exactly your job. Blake took the bullet for her instead of one of the Hearthfire guards supposedly guarding her. The Hearthfire guard protected the producer. They should have had more bodyguards near Jordan to begin with.” Adam voiced the disgust they’d all felt in reviewing the video clips.
When the elevator reached the main floor, the three searched for a secluded seating area. A small nook with three seats, a potted plant, and reasonable sight lines east of the main lobby gave them the privacy they needed.
Adam pulled out his phone. “Looks like Alan and Dad went over the footage we found online. They agree with my initial assessment. The shooter was aiming for Miss Lee’s bodyguard. I also don’t think the man in custody is the person who did the shooting. He was too close to the security member who took him down. Someone intent on a mass shooting or on killing Miss Lee would not stand next to security. It would’ve been smarter to be on top of one of the private hangars.”
Andrew studied the same information on his phone. “September, do you know if Miss Lee has any active threats?”
“We don’t discuss things like that. You guys know the drill. It’s your job to contact the personal security of anyone I work with if a threat might include them. There’s always somebody sending an odd email or letter to the agent, commenting too much on a post, or showing up too often at events. Talking about threats is just creepy,” she said and shifted slightly toward Adam.
Andrew’s oldest brother slipped an arm around his intended. He scanned the area. He hadn’t been thinking about guarding September. Watching Adam proved that his brother wasn’t actively guarding her either. Thanks to their own security, hospitals were secure places to begin with. Andrew chided himself for not being more aware of his surroundings just because he was with family.
September’s phone pinged. “That’s Jordan. She says she’s off the phone and would like us to come back up.”
A different Hearthfire security member met them at the door to Jordan’s room, along with a man Andrew recognized from the video as the one on Jordan’s far left when the shooting began.
“Ah, September, nice of you to come. I’m sure Jordan enjoyed your visit. She is indisposed at the moment, and I’m sorry to say she won’t be able to see you again today.”
