Held A New Adult Romance(33)

Then there's an explosion of light all around us. She hides her face from the flashes.

"Leave her alone!" I yell. "Leave her the fuck alone!"

I can hardly see - it's bright as daylight, but they yell over the sound of their idling engines. "Amber, Amber, Amber, Amber! Look over here, Amber! Amber, do you have anything to say to Mr. Theroux's family?"

She raises her window once more. Behind me I hear the wail of police sirens. The Escalade leaps ahead at the first opportunity and I follow. Nothing matters but getting her home, away from these vultures.

The paparazzi fall away as we head north. Either the highway patrol caught up with them or they had better things to do. Amber slows, then my adrenaline spikes once more as she begins to swerve. She reels across the highway like a drunk, prompting angry horn blasts. For a moment I think she's going to crash, but as she approaches the side of the road she slows like a clockwork toy winding down. She comes to a halt maybe three inches from a signpost.

I leap out and bang on the door of the Escalade. When she opens the door she practically spills out, her mouth wide open as she gasps for air. Figures - thank God she slowed down before her panic attack got any worse.

"Breathe. It's okay. It's okay. You're not alone. I'm here."

She slides down onto the verge and fights to catch her breath. "Oh shit," she says, when she can speak again. "Oh shit shit shit."

"Shh. Everything's fine. You're safe. They turned back about ten miles ago."

Amber exhales slowly through pursed lips. "Why? What happened?"

"Police, I guess. That or someone tipped them off that Lady Gaga had been spotted wearing jeans and t-shirt."

She lets out a shaky little laugh, but it's like her face doesn't know whether to laugh or cry and suddenly she's doing both. "Don't make me go back," she says, still breathless. "Please, Jimmy. Don't make me go back."

"We've got to go back, Amber. Your Dad..."

"No. No." She swallows and pulls her hair back from her face, twisting it up in a scrunchie. "I can't go back. I can't go back to living in a fucking bubble. I'm crazy as it is - it was only making me worse, don't you see?"

"Amber, please. Get back in the car."

She scrambles to her feet and for a wild moment I think she's going to do something really nuts, like start running and screaming. But she doesn't. She stands with her back to the door of the Escalade, hugging herself. "If I do, will you take me home?"

I nod. I'm not going to lie to her - she'd see through me in an instant anyway. "I have to," I say. "It's my job. I'm supposed to protect you."

She bites her lips, making them red. She's breathing too hard and she looks like she might shake apart, but I nearly faint with relief when she nods her head. "Okay," she says.

"Okay?"

"Okay. Yes. I understand."

"Good. It's not safe out here. You don't need that. You need to get well - not run around being chased by the paparazzi."

Her tongue darts out over her lower lip again. "Okay," she says, and opens the rear door of the SUV. "Take me home."

"Thank you," I say.

"It's all right - I understand. I don't want you to get into any trouble."

"Probably too late, but thanks."

She climbs into the back. "Let me just get changed, okay? They know what I'm wearing."

I lock up the security vehicle and get into the driver's seat of the Escalade. She's futzing with her bag in the back seat. I catch a glimpse of her bare arms and reach up to adjust the rearview mirror, so as to spare her modesty. But she catches my eyes in the mirror and there's a Mona Lisa smile dancing in the corners of her lips. She looks me right in my reflected eyes and peels off her t-shirt. No bra. Her breasts are small and round, peach soft and pale. I'm hard in an instant - hard and stupid as all hell.

Quickly, I look away. She knows what she's doing and I'm an idiot for falling for it, but when she's dressed in black she has the same glow as a pearl on velvet. Or maybe one of those old movie stars, whose skin was never anything but white, those beautiful black and white ghosts with their dark mouths and razor thin eyebrows.

By the time I hear the click, it's too late.

There’s a gun pointed at the back of my head.

"Drive," she says. "North. Don't turn back. We need to find the exit for the Coast Highway."

I start the car. My hand's shaking. I think hers is too, but it's hard to tell and I don't dare turn around to check. I don't think she'd shoot deliberately but she's wired, tired and always on edge. The slightest jump or startle and the inside of the windshield is gonna be decorated in a fetching new shade of brain.