“BACK UP!” I shoved one pap who was right in Saylor’s face. “Let my wife stand up, for fuck’s sake.”
I might as well have chummed the water.
The questions and flashes came faster and more furious.
“When did you get married?”
“What do you think of Gio’s death, Mrs. Holt?”
“Where were you when he died?”
I picked up Saylor and carried her away from the pestering fucking annoying assholes.
“I’m so sorry, Mal. I can walk now. Put me down, please.”
I ignored her pleas. I wasn’t letting her out of my arms as long as those vultures were circling.
I couldn’t protect Gio, but I could damn well protect my fucking wife.
A few seconds later, police arrived and played interference between us and the paps.
“Where were you guys five minutes ago?” I snarled. “They fucking took out my wife.”
“Sorry, Mr. Holt. We didn’t see your arrival,” one cop replied as we were ushered toward an office.
“Are you okay, miss?” another asked.
“I’m fine. I can walk. He’s just protective and won’t let go.”
I was pretty sure I heard one mumble, “I wouldn’t either,” but I didn’t know which fucker had said it so I couldn’t swing on him.
“Is your transportation here? We can arrange your pick up at a secure location so you’re not swarmed driving home.”
I had to put Saylor down so I could get my cell out and text Naomi. She should be here somewhere.
Me:Paps swarmed us at baggage. Where are you?
Naomi:I saw. I’ve got your bags. Where do you want me to meet you?
I’d never been in this situation. Usually only one or two papswaited to take my picture if I was passing through LAX.
“My assistant is in baggage claim with our bags,” I told the officer and he sent someone to arrange our pick up.
Fifteen minutes later, we met Naomi at a side exit and were motoring our way down the 105 in my Rolls-Royce Cullinan.
“How are you holding up? Congrats on the marriage, by the way,” Naomi said from the front passenger seat since she’d engaged a driver for the trip.
I grunted in reply.
“Right.” Naomi swung back to face forward with a sigh. “When do you want to meet with the authorities to make arrangements?”
“Let’s do it now. Get it over with.”
“We’ll have to wait until they’re open.” Naomi tapped away on her cell phone. “It’s only 6AM.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Just do whatever.” I turned and stared out the window at the passing traffic.
I felt numb. Like there was a layer of cotton between my ears and all over me, muffling me from seeing and hearing what was going on.
