Hero: Complete Series Box Set: Special Forces Romance by Parker M. S

Author:Parker, M. S. [Parker, M. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Belmonte Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-04-20T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Leighton

I'd never felt safer. Tucked away in the basement of a strange building, hiding from paparazzi...encircled by Haze's arms. A hidden nirvana all to ourselves. The damp mildew smell of the emergency stairwell and the chaos that had chased us there didn't matter. Only the feel of his arms, his lips.

The kiss obliterated all that had been said between us. The only sound that penetrated our connection was a faint buzzing. I barely noticed it at first, but then Haze pulled back and I realized it was my phone. I pulled it from my purse and read the message on the screen.

“The driver's just outside the fire door. There are three decoy cars in place, one already in motion and drawing a crowd,” I relayed the message to Haze.

He nodded and pulled me up the flight of stairs. The door to the outside was also set with an alarm in case of fire. With a few deft twists of his wrist, he disabled it and opened the door quietly.

“It's her!”

Paparazzi loitering at the mouth of the alley stubbed out their cigarettes and started running towards us. Haze opened the car door and we dove into the back. My driver slammed the car into reverse, and we flew backwards out of the alley. The screeching tires drew more curious looks, and as we drove away, I saw paparazzi running to all sorts of vehicles.

The first to catch up with us was a motorcycle who flashed countless pictures despite the tinted windows. I curled into Haze's arms, but couldn't look away. They photographed the reflective window as if they knew each flash chipped at my nerves and brought me closer to breaking.

“Ah, Mr. Welch, we have a problem,” the driver said suddenly.

Not only had we been chased all the way up the winding hill to my grandfather's mansion, there was a tight knot of paparazzi camped outside the wrought iron gates. It was too late to turn around and the crowd surged around the car. The driver shifted into park.

“I can't move the car without some sort of law suit,” he said, glancing at us in the rearview mirror.

Household staff ran down the manicured lawn and positioned themselves by the side gate. Their intention was clear, once the gate was unlocked, they would push back the crowd and let me through. But how were we supposed to make it the fifty feet across the driveway without being overtaken?

“Fuck this,” Haze said. “Let 'em try to sue me.”

He threw open the door and plowed over five photographers at once. The driver crawled over the seat and formed a barricade with the open car door. There was just enough room for me to slip under the driver's arm and follow the path Haze was forcibly clearing.

He disarmed photographers, spun reporters around, and pushed aside anyone daring to stay in his path. Soon they realized even the slightest move towards me brought his fast hands and hard body in their direction, leaving the paparazzi no choice but to back up.

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