“No, Señor Abana. The container was delayed after leaving the source and missed the ship it was scheduled to leave on. We have confirmation it is actually on the water now and will arrive in about a week. This isn’t the first time this has happened. You normally don’t see the delays because we build in time to allow for it when we give you a delivery date.”

 

“I must say, this all makes me very nervous. I lose my previous merchandise, you tell me you have made no progress on finding out who took it from me, and now you tell me of this delay,” Abana said quietly. He didn’t have be loud to make his threat clear.

 

“I understand, Señor Abana. We were caught as much off guard as you. Our paperwork said it was on the water and it wasn’t until it didn’t arrive that we knew there was a problem. We’re doing all we can to get your merchandise to you as soon as possible. We even looked into chartering a plane, but the merchandise had already left the supplier. The delay came between the supplier and the port, when the container was on the train. We don’t want to open the container any more than we have to, for obvious reasons. As far as the rest, we have so little to go on that we haven’t been able to uncover anything. We’re continuing to look, though.”

 

“Get me my merchandise, or I’ll find someone else who will.”

 

“Yes, Señor—” Saul stopped when his phone chirped, signaling the end of the call. He gripped the phone tightly, resisting the urge to throw it. It wasn’t their fucking fault Abana lost his guns, but they we’re the ones taking it in ass.

 

The Killers and Devils had been no help, and they were completely out of leads. He’d put some feelers out to the two outlaw clubs in Houston, but that had gone nowhere, as well, except to piss off two clubs that were two or three times the size of his.

 

The club had talked around the idea giving Abana this load of guns, but they had decided that was setting a precedence they didn’t want. They had made delivery of the merchandise as agreed. If Abana couldn’t keep up with them after that, it wasn’t their problem…except he was making it their problem.

 

He glanced at the clock. “Shit,” he muttered as he rose from behind his desk and slipped into his colors. Being Angela’s security blanket was damned inconvenient at times.

 

The production crew had settled into their groove and had gotten four good days of shooting under their belt. The crowds knew they were welcome to watch, if they behaved, and he’d been able to cut way back on the number of men on the set. They had ten brothers working security on First Unit, and only two on Second. He and Dallas were rotating men in and out, but he had to be there every day, for Angela.

 

She’d gotten over her nervousness, but he was still there every day. Yesterday, when they’d made up a full day of shooting, Ryan had given him a new pass to much cheering and laughter. It looked just like his previous one, the only difference was the job listed under his name. Security had been replaced with the words Good Luck Charm.

 

***

 

“I didn’t think you were coming today,” Caleb said as he checked Saul through the lines.

 

“Abana was chewing my ass out.”

 

“What does he want from us? We’re busting our ass for him.”

 

Saul nodded. “I know, but of all the times for the fucking container to miss the boat.”

 

“That’s not our fault either.”

 

“I know. He probably knows it, too. He’s just pissed off his merchandise went missing and we haven’t given him a target for him to express his displeasure with.”

 

Caleb snorted. “Maybe I’ll tell him my ex-wife did it. That’d solve two problems at once.”

 

Saul snorted out a laugh as he stepped past the barricade.

 

Today they were shooting three different dinner scenes in the kitchen and dining room of a house the production had rented. The house was small, befitting for Tanya’s humble upbringing, and was packed with cast, crew and equipment. The first scene was between Angela and Cora, as Tanya struggled with the veiled sexism and racism at work.

 

Saul had learned if he stood two or three steps behind Johnny he could see everything he wanted to see and was still out of the way. “Hey, you good looking, good luck charm, you,” Cora teased in her best Texas twang as he took his position out of the way.

 

“How are you today, Cora?”

 

“Fine. Looking forward to getting these shots because then I’m done unless they need me to do any reshoots. The heat down here is killing me,” she grinned, reverting back to her native Minnesota cadence.

 

“You get used to it.”

 

“I don’t see how unless you were born on the sun.”

 

Saul chuckled then stopped as Angela entered the house. She was dressed in gym shorts, a cut off t-shirt, and running shoes. Her hair was a carefully arranged mess and her shirt was stained with sweat, but she wasn’t breathing hard and she didn’t glow as if she’d been working out. It was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than a police uniform, and she was fuckable as hell.

 

“Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up now,” Angela said with a grin as she entered the kitchen.

 

The crew chuckled as they made sure everything was ready for the first take. “About ten minutes, Angela,” Johnny said as the crew worked.

 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming. Normally you’re here before I am,” Angela said as she stepped beside Saul.

 

“I was working on my other business.”

 

“Building houses, right?”

 

“Right. Do you mind?” he asked as he made to touch her shirt.

 

She grinned. “Go ahead. It’s not wet if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said as he brushed his fingers over her shirt. “It’s stained so it doesn’t dry and will provide continuity between takes.”

 

“I knew that. I just wanted to touch your boobs,” Saul said with a grin.

 

Angela grinned. “You’re awful.”

 

“I am, I really am,” he moaned as he shook his head sadly.

 

Johnny ignored Angela and Saul kidding around behind him, but he couldn’t believe the difference in Angela. She was still high-strung and demanding, especially with herself, but she’d really bonded with Saul, and that had spilled over into the way she treated the rest of the cast and crew, all except Bradley. Something had happened there, and though she was a total professional in front of the camera, she seemed to be avoiding him behind the camera. Bradley had noticed it too, the entire production had, and he’d cooled noticeably towards Saul. That’s all they needed, having to deal with a love triangle, as if this production wasn’t fucked up enough.

 

“Johnny, we’re ready,” Porter, the key grip, said.

 

“Okay, Angela, Cora, we’re ready,” Johnny said, turning to look at his two female leads. He always knew where to find them. Find Saul and you would find Angela and Cora.

 

“Here we go,” Angela grinned as she stepped in front of the camera. Someone stepped up and spritzed her face, arms and legs with something that made her shine as if she were soaked in sweat. She gave her head a hard shake, messing her hair even more, then wiped her face as she began to breathe hard. She trotted out the front door and shut it behind her.

 

“Lock it down!”

 

“Speed!”

 

“Action, Angela!”

 

Angela came in the door, her breasts heaving as if she’d just run a marathon. She walked into the kitchen, the camera pulling back to track her movement as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of water. “Hey, Mom,” she gasped as she twisted the lid open.

 

“Cut!” Johnny called. “Good job Angela. Next setup!”

 

***

 

It took three hours to shoot the kitchen scene, Cora and Angela nailing every line of dialog and every movement. They had to do only one second take because the Giraffe operator let the mic get in frame as he moved with Cora, Cora reaching up and grabbing the mic when it dipped to croon a smoky love song into it as the crew burst into laughter.

 

“Would someone please find Bradley!” Johnny ordered.

 

They’d paused while Angela and Cora were re-made up. Now Angela was dressed in a pair of tight jeans with a white men’s shirt that clung to her like a second skin, the front of the shirt open at the throat to reveal plenty of breast. If anything, she was even more fuckable now than she was before.

 

“Sorry,” Bradley said, stepping into the house, dressed in a blazer and slacks. It looked as if Angela and Bradley were going on a date, which is what this scene was, he supposed, even if Cora’s character, Terri, was there.

 

Saul stayed well back in the kitchen as the caterer loaded the table with food. He hadn’t had dinner yet, and the smells made his mouth water. They were going to shoot without a break tonight, to get all their scenes, and he decided now would be as good a time as any to grab a quick bite. He opened the garage door and the smell hit him like a wall.

 

“Everyone out!” he yelled, shutting the door. “There’s a gas leak! Move it! Everyone out!” He began herding people out of the house through the front door.

 

“I know what to do,” Bradley said rising from the table as the cast and crew began to file out.

 

“No. I’ve got it. Get out,” Saul replied as he continued to herd people toward the door.

 

“But I can—”

 

“Out!”

 

“Come on, Bradley,” Johnny said. “Let’s get the people to safety.”

 

Now that everyone was moving, Saul, turned back to the kitchen. He opened the door into the garage. The smell was stronger, but not immensely so, which meant it was a small leak. He stepped into the garage and closed the house door behind him. He moved to the workbench in the back of the garage and picked up a pair of adjustable pliers off the hook. He went first to the hot water heater, but the valve was on the wrong end of the pipe, in place to aid in the replacement of the water heater, not the connector pipe. He exited the garage through the side door, leaving it open, smiling as he spotted the gas meter. Ten seconds later, the gas was off to the entire house. He went back into the garage and pulled the disconnect on the door opener before raising the single garage door, moving slowly enough nothing would spark, just in case.

 

He stepped out onto the drive as the crew huddled on the other side. He glanced around then stepped across the yard and wheeled one of the large fans they had set up to help cool the crew onto the drive to blow air into the garage to dissipate the gas.

 

As the fan cleared the air, he stepped across the street to Johnny and Ryan. “The gas is off. Give the fan a few minutes to clear out the garage, then I’ll see what’s leaking. The only thing in there is the water heater, so that’s probably it.”

 

“We’ve called a plumber, but we had to leave a message,” Ryan growled. “I’m starting to think this production is cursed.”

 

“What do you think caused the leak?” Angela asked as she stepped up beside Saul.

 

“Won’t know until I look. It’s probably safe now. Ryan, have everyone wait here,” Saul said as he strode across the street.

 

He left the fan running, for the breeze more than anything. There was still a hint of gas in the garage, but nothing to worry about. He went immediately to the water heater. It had a new electronic igniter, so the pilot couldn’t have gone out, so that meant it had to be the line. Finding an adjustable wrench on the bench, he quickly removed the line from the wall to the water heater and examined it. He couldn’t see a break in the dim light, but he carried the line out with him.

 

“I can’t see a problem, but it has to be this line. You can go back in and film now if you want. It’s safe.”

 

“We can’t. Our insurance won’t allow it, not until the line is repaired,” Ryan said.

 

Saul rolled his eyes. “Have you heard from the plumber?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“You!” he said, pointing at a man and handing him the length of flexible gas pipe. “Take this and go to Lowes. There’s one on San Dario. Tell them you need another one of these and pipe dope. Got it? If you hurry you can get there before they close.”

 

“Do it,” Ryan said.

 

The man took off at a run toward one of the production vehicles. He started the truck, but it sat for a long moment idling as the man found the address on his phone, then took off, the truck straining under heavy acceleration.

 

“What are you going to do?” Angela asked.

 

“Clean the threads so I can put the pipe on as soon as he gets back,” Saul said as he started across the street.

 

***

 

Forty minutes later, the man returned with a length of bendable pipe and some pipe tape. Ten minutes after that, Saul had the pipe installed and was turning on the gas. He rooted around in the kitchen until he found some dish soap, which he carried to the garage and smeared on the connections, watching carefully for bubbles. After thirty seconds of watching he cycled the door to reconnect the opener, lowered the door, and stepped out through the side door.

 

“Fixed,” he called as he stepped around the corner of the garage.

 

“Let’s go, people,” Ryan said, slapping his hands together. “We’ve lost an hour of shooting already.”

 

“Looks like I owe you another one,” Ryan said, stepping up to Saul as the crew crossed the road back to the house.

 

“All part of the service.”

 

There was a scramble to get set up, and while the crew worked, Saul carefully examined the pipe under one of the strong camera lights.

 

“What are you looking for?” Angela asked, stepping up beside him.

 

“I’m looking for the break. I don’t think this was an accident. Pipes don’t just break, not like this, not unless someone is messing with them.”

 

“Who would be messing with it?”

 

“Good question.”

 

“Did you find the problem?” Bradley asked, walking up as Saul continued to look at the pipe. “I thought I smelled gas earlier. I should have said something.”

 

Saul ignored him. If Bradley had really smelled gas and hadn’t said anything, he was dumber than he thought. With all the cameras and lights in the house, they could have been blown sky-high.

 

“Here it is,” Bradley said slowly, flexing the pipe to open the break. “This has been cut, or stuck with something sharp. See how the sheathing is damaged. That wouldn’t have happened if the pipe just failed.”

 

“Who would do such a thing?” Angela asked. “We could have been killed, right?”

 

“It’s possible, though not likely. The gas was contained in the garage. Somebody would’ve probably smelled it before there was enough to explode, but yeah, it’s possible.”

 

“And if nobody had?”

 

Saul shrugged. “If nobody had smelled it, and the water heater came on, we would’ve had a really bad day.”

 

Angela shook her head and walked away.

 

Saul turned to Bradley. “Next time I tell you to do something, you should consider doing it.”

 

“I could have helped!”

 

“You a plumber?”

 

“No, but—”

 

“Then you would have been no help. My job is to keep you safe, so next time do what I tell you.”

 

Bradley glared at him a moment then turned and walked away without another word.

 

***

 

“That’s a wrap tonight. Good job, people,” Johnny said, then stretched. The windows were just beginning to light with the first rays of the new day. It had been a scramble, but with Saul’s quick thinking and handyman skills, they’d managed to get all their shots tonight.

 

“Thank you, Saul. You saved us another day of shooting.”

 

“You’re welcome. How many more of these night shoots are there?”

 

“One more. But that’s later in the schedule.”

 

“Good. I’m a night owl, but I do like to sleep sometime.”

 

Johnny chuckled. “People think making movies is glamorous. They don’t realize how brutal principle photography is.”

 

“Yeah. I had no idea. What time is call tomorrow?”

 

“Three, at Casa Blanca Park.” When Saul groaned, Johnny grinned. He felt sorry for Saul, trying to run security for production and manage his other business, as well. “It’s a short day. Only six hours.”

 

“That’s good. You guys are killing me.”