Hero - The Ambush: Special Forces Romance (17 page)

“Go ahead.” She smirked. “I can't blame you for running off with that hunk while Ricky's out cold.”

I was too disgusted to say anything, and before Haze even turned around, I stormed out the door and down the sidewalk. Bright flashes blinded my eyes and a crowd surged around me.

The whole thing took only a few seconds and then I was caught.

“Leighton, Leighton, is it true you're sleeping with a 'super soldier?'”

“Does Special Forces extend to the bedroom? What's he like?”

“Leighton, tell us about the real Captain America. Is the sex explosive?”

Paris waved from the boutique window, a pleased expression on her face.

She set me up.

Bitch.

Chapter 19

Haze

“
Don't
worry, she'll be fine,” Paris said, even as I was moving toward the door.

Leighton disappeared from my line of sight faster than I'd been able to think. Paris moved to the window and waved as I pushed past her. I couldn't see where Leighton had gone, but there was commotion on the street.

“It's nothing to worry about. Just a little paparazzi. Leighton loves the spotlight, and I'm sure she's been dying to get back into the media,” Paris said. “Now, about my zipper...”

“You're disgusting,” I said as I shoved her away from me and ran for the door.

By the time I reached her, there was a knot of people between us. Now I could hear people behind me yelling at Paris too.

“Paris, wave! That's it. Gorgeous dress. Who's it for?”

Suddenly, I realized what happened. Paris must have called all the media outlets she could think of and told them exactly where she and Leighton would be.

Bitch.

If she thought I'd let her anywhere near Leighton after this, she was crazy.

I could barely see Leighton's red hair as she was woven into the center of an impenetrable crowd. Flashes exploded all around and I fought off the urge to use my combat training to clear my path. I pushed people aside, but they fought their way back. Finally, I gave up being gentle and sliced through the crowd to get to Leighton.

“Is it true you cheated on Ricky Gardener? The millionaire's really out of the picture?”

When I reached her, relief flooded me. I touched her arm and she recoiled as if I’d burned her. Then her eyes met mine and the force of what I saw there almost made me forget where we were. All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and never let her go.

“Is this him? Super Soldier, look this way.”

“Take your sunglasses off. Smile.”

“Give him a kiss, Leighton. Go on, Captain America, grab your girl.”

The flashes increased until it was impossible to see past the first ring of paparazzi. It was a good thing I didn't need to see. I had the street memorized. Our best chance was to push toward the street. It was impossible not to snap back at the questions and increasing innuendos, and I knew things were about to get worse. I needed to pull Leighton close to stop the crowd from reaching her.

The moment my arm went around her, the crowd went wild.

“That's it, Soldier. How about you fling her over your shoulder?”

“Come on, Leighton. One kiss for your hero. The hunk deserves a little lovin' for saving you.”

I shoved paparazzi aside with my free arm, not caring when two tripped off the curb and fell to the hard concrete. Once on the street, there was still nowhere to go. Photographers stopped cars as they stood in the center of the two lanes and flashed their cameras. A camera crew and entertainment anchor jumped out of a van, and I couldn't find an opening anywhere.

“It's good to know you support the troops, Leighton. What else are you going to do for our servicemen?”

“Is it the uniform that does it for you, Leighton?”

“What message do you have for the men still overseas?"

As more paparazzi picked up on the army angle, the questions got more intense. They realized the story was more than just a rich girl and her new boyfriend, which meant they could milk this for a lot more. I guided Leighton with my arm, trying to get her across the street and into a building with a back entrance.

“Is it true your brother just re-enlisted in the army?”

“Are you planning on seducing his commanding officer to keep him safe overseas?”

“Pulling more than strings to get your brother home safe, Leighton?”

Her heel caught on the curb as we rushed along and Leighton grabbed my arm to keep from falling. I looked down at her and saw the pleading there.

“Get me out of here, Haze. Please.”

The questions about her brother were hitting too close to home, and I could see she was ready to crack. She needed to get away from the photographers before they saw her breaking down. If they noticed her polite smile slipping, they'd go for blood.

I shoved aside the entertainment anchor and cracked the camera into the cameraman's face. With them stumbling back, we had a clear path toward an office building's front doors.

We ran.

The irate building security guards were helpless against the tide of paparazzi on our heels. One tried to stop me, but I held him back and got Leighton past him to the bank of elevators. She dove toward an open elevator.

“Not there. We're going to keep going, around the corner to the stairs,” I spoke low in her ear as I shielded her with my body so no one could see what we were doing. Then I leaned into the elevator, pressed as many floor buttons as I could, and pretended to talk to her as the doors closed.

Paparazzi were fighting their way past the building security and yelling to each other that Leighton was in the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, I took off for the stairwell. As soon as I went through the doorway, I found her standing on the landing with her face in her hands.

“Quick, downstairs,” I said.

We ran down a flight of stairs to a locked door marked 'Building Maintenance Only.' I kicked the door open and pushed inside just as the stairwell door above us opened.

“The elevator's stopping on three. Go, go,” the entertainment anchor said.

Footsteps ran up the stairs as I pushed the maintenance door closed and blocked it with a heavy metal tool kit. When I turned around, Leighton was standing in the middle of the basement hall looking completely at a loss. Metal ducts and damp pipes ran over her head and the only light was a few bare bulbs stretching down the length of the cement floor hallway.

“Please tell me there is a way out of here,” she said.

“There always is, but we have to hurry,” I said.

We ran as far as the hallway stretched and stopped at the emergency exit. This was our way out, but we couldn't go barreling through. As we stopped, Leighton wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

“Just give me a second to disarm this and we're good,” I said, trying not to think about holding her. Right now, she needed protection, not comfort.

She nodded, but fear burst into her eyes as we heard the maintenance door rattling. Shit. Some of those assholes had figured out what we'd done and were trying to get inside the blocked door.

I untangled the wires controlling the fire alarm on the door and quickly clipped one before tucking the knot back in place. Stuff like this wasn't my forte, but I'd learned enough to do what I had to do. When I pushed the door open, we held our breath, but no alarm sounded. I pulled Leighton into the emergency stairwell and closed the door behind us just in time.

From inside the dark stairwell, we heard four or five voices rushing through the maintenance hallway. They paused at the emergency door, but didn't seem to notice the alarm. A few seconds later, they discovered the other stairwell that led to the back alley and charged up those stairs.

I grabbed Leighton's phone. “I'm getting a driver here. Someone has to be close. I'm also getting a few decoy cars. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.”

Once the messages were sent, and the plan was in motion, I put the phone back in her purse and pulled her close. Her entire body was shaking, shivering, and I knew it wasn't from the temperature.

I tucked her against my chest and pressed my lips to the top of her head. “It's alright. You're safe. I won’t let anyone else get to you.”

She kept her arms tight over her chest, but let me keep her in my arms. “Paris did this to me on purpose,” she said quietly. “Now that they've got a good story line, the paparazzi will never leave me alone.”

“Give it a day or two and they'll get bored,” I said.

“They brought up Ian.” There was a note of anger in her voice now. That was good. “My poor brother. He doesn't need a bigger target on his back.”

“You don't need any of this. I'm so sorry, Leighton,” I said.

She leaned her head against my chest, and I couldn't help but brush a hand over her red curls. The quiet of the stairwell suddenly grew warmer and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Dammit!

I couldn't do it. I couldn't separate my job from how I felt about Leighton.

“I was afraid.”

The words were muffled, but I was able to understand them.

“Me too,” I admitted. “I can't let anything happen to you.”

She looked up at me, eyes dark. “You did your job.”

I was tired of pretending. “I'm afraid it was more than that.”

Her eyes met mine, holding for a few seconds before I leaned down and took her mouth, letting my lips tell her more than I could ever say.

Chapter 20

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. Cameras still flashed, but I was able to walk upright instead of run to the side gate.

Inside the gate, less than one hundred feet from the front door, and the worst appeared from behind a rhododendron. Five paparazzi, one still wearing his motorcycle helmet, rushed towards us despite the obvious trespassing violation. Their sudden appearance ripped a scream from my throat, and I saw something snap in Haze.

Within seconds, the five photographers laid prone on the grass, but Haze didn't stop moving. He swept me into his arms and ran to the front door, ignoring the new shouts. He kicked the door shut behind us, leaving the staff to escort the trespassers off the property.

Still, as seconds ticked into minutes and the silence between us grew, he kept me in his arms.