“Your cover’s blown.”
“What?” Her hand flies to the eye patch. “But?—”
“The stalker’s here.” I let her see the grave expression in my eyes. I need her to understand the seriousness of this situation.
Her whole face crumples in fear. “No, no, no.”
I squeeze her arm firmly. “Stay close. I’m taking you to the safe house, but we’ve gotta move now.”
She nods, picking up the pace, but as we push through the doors to head outside, a blinding white flash hits my eyes.
“Get down!” I shield her body with mine as she cowers under me, but more and more flashes pop all around us, and I realize it’s cameras.
It’s the fucking paparazzi.
A young woman shouts, “That’s her! It’s Harper Slade! With the eye patch!”
A tall, dark-haired woman lunges in front of us, sticking a microphone in Harper’s face. “Why did you lie to us about Johnny Sayers?” she demands as a chorus of squeals sound out and a throng of people swarm around us.
It’s bringing back memories.Badmemories.
“Harper, we still love you!” a girl’s voice calls out.
A hefty blond man with an expensive-looking camera pushes against me, then he snaps a dozen photos in Harper’s face before I shoulder check him back. But now some of the fans are groping Harper. Clawing at her.
“Step back!” I holler, bracing an arm out to clear the way for her.
“Chase.” Her fingers tighten around my arm. “Get me out of here.”
I look her straight in the eye. “Can you run in those shoes?”
“Yes.” She gives me a confident nod, and I shoot her one in return.
“Step! Back!” I push hard through the sea of people until we finally reach a point where we can break through.
I turn to her. “You ready?”
She nods. “Let’s go.”
We break into a run. I dial my pace back, expecting her to be slower than I am, but she blazes past me. She’s lightning fast.
In heels.
“Hurry up!” she calls over her shoulder.
Who is this woman?
“Yeah, I’m coming!”
I finally catch up with her as we round the corner, then we breeze past a dozen startled onlookers as we sprint the last few blocks to the car.
We pile in, and I throw it in gear, peeling out and barreling over the bridge toward safety. But I’m kicking myself.
How could I have let her walk into such a dangerous situation in the first place?
If I hadn’t been distracted by her incredible moves—even joining her!—I might have sensed something was up. I might have been able to get her out of there before the mob gathered.
She pulls off the wig and the eye patch, plopping them in her lap. “Well, so much for these.”
