Page 107 of Nanny for the SEALs

The shooter would have to take the stairs down from their nest.

I kept my gun in my hand as I opened the stairwell. Just a crack—I paused to listen for anyone inside. There was only silence.

Slowly, I slipped into the stairwell and closed the door behind me, ensuring that it didn’t make any noise as it shut. The stairwell had rubberized steps, which deadened my footsteps as I made my way up to the seventh floor, then the eighth. I kept my gun aimed in front of me, waiting for the first sign of movement.

“Apple Pie is secure,” Cooper said in my earpiece. “Brady, what’s going on?”

I didn’t dare answer. I was too focused on the first sign of movement on the floors above.

The eighth floor was relatively quiet. I peered through the window and saw people milling around, chatting about the gunshots they had heard. Then a scream sounded somewhere above.

The ninth floor.

“Brady. Come in.”Cooper asked. He was calm and professional, but I could hear the urgency hidden in his tone. “Confirm your status.”

I didn’t dare answer. I took the steps two at a time and reached the door to the ninth floor. Slowly, I stuck my head in front of the glass and pulled it back again. In that quick glance I saw dozens of hotel guests on the floor, many holding their hands over their heads. Only one man was standing. He was halfway down the hall and had a black ski mask over his face. He was jogging this way, but had turned his head to shout at someone on the ground when I looked. He hadn’t seen me.

The tactical part of my brain assessed the situation calmly. One hostile and lots of civilians. They were all on the ground, but anyone could appear from a door at any moment. If I confronted the guy now, he could take someone hostage.

“Brady?”came Heather’s voice on the radio. “Brady, please let me know you’re okay!”

I ignored her and examined the area. The stairwell door opened inward. And it was weighted. By the time I pulled it open and aimed my gun, the shooter would have had plenty of time to raise his own weapon at me. It wasn’t ideal.

This was why I had disabled the elevators. Unless he wanted to reach the ground from the window (Hans Gruber style!) he would need to take the stairwell. And he had no idea I was here. I had a tactical advantage.

I hurried up the stairs to the next landing and rested my gun on the railing. I had a perfect line-of-sight on the door, and plenty of cover. He was mine as soon as he came through the door.

I counted down in my head. Just like when I had stalked Rogan at the Four Seasons, I had counted off the distance from my room to the stairwell for a reason. If the shooter was moving as fast as I had, he would be here in seven, six, five…

A voice called out a few floors below. “Brady?”

My heart skipped a beat.Heather.

“Brady?” Footsteps, muted on the rubberized stairs. “Brady! Are you okay? You’re not answering…”

“Heather! Get out of—”

I cut off as the door to the ninth floor swung open. But instead of charging into the stairwell, the shooter hung back. I saw the barrel of a gun stick out, but nothing more.

He must have heard us.

“Who’s there!” the shooter called in an American accent. “Show yourself!”

I kept my gun trained on the open door. All I needed was for him to take another step forward. As soon as I saw the ski mask, I would know it’s him, and I could take the shot.

But then the shooter called out again. “Walk toward me slowly. Good. Drop whatever is in your hand.”

There was a loudTHUMP. I heard it in my earpiece, too. The radio.

What the…

That’s when I realized what was happening. From his vantage inside the doorway, the shooter could see Heather. He had his gun aimed at her right now. She had brought the radio, and that’s what she had dropped.

Heather is in danger.

“Keep walking!” the voice commanded.

Everything happened very quickly. I left my hiding spot and leaped down the stairs. When I reached the corner, I planted my boot on the railing and hurled myself at the door to the ninth floor. I kicked forward while in mid-air, striking the door and swinging it closed.

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