Page 95 of Overexposed

I grimaced. “He’s a real peach.”

Just then, the second car’s driver put their foot on the gas and sped up, overtaking the paparazzi guys and coming up level with us in the wrong lane. A frantic glance across showed me the car wasn’t carrying more professional stalkers with cameras but instead a bunch of girls. All with their shirts lifted and tits wobbled around as their driver kept them level with us.

“What the fuck?” Stella exclaimed with a mixture of laughter and panic. “Is this a regular occurrence for you?”

“It’s really not,” I admitted. “This seems to be your influence, Slick. The fangirls are losing their minds with jealousy like Claraneverexperienced.”

Stella started to say something, then gasped sharply. “Gem! Look out!” She screamed her warning right as a semi-truck came around the next corner, headed straight for the fangirls. I steered as far over as possible, dropping my foot hard onto the gas to give them space in our lane to pull in, but the paps remained hot on our tail.

There was no other option for their driver but to swerve the other way, and a split second later, the most almighty crash rang out on the side of the hill.

“Holy fuck,” I exclaimed, braking as fast as I could without endangering ourselves. A glance in the mirror showed a thick plume of smoke already rising from the trees where the car haddisappeared over the ledge and a sick feeling of dread curled in my gut.

The paparazzi car had stopped too, and both men were already out with cameras in hand. One ran toward the crash scene, camera raised and, presumably, shutter clicking like mad while the other approached my car. Fucking hell. That was the last thing StellaorSeven needed—so I made a choice I knew would haunt me forever.

I stepped on the gas and reversed back the way we’d come, passing close enough to the pap that he actually flung his camera as he threw himself to the side. I’d never have hit him. The camera though? I experienced a bit of glee as I ran right over it.

Once we were at the side of the road closest to where the girls went off, I was getting out of the car. “Call rescue services.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Get down there and see if I can help.” I circled to the back of the car and flipped open the trunk. Thank fuck I’d left my climbing gear packed in there.

Stella was getting out of the car, phone to her ear as she described where we were. The truck had stopped some way down the hill and the driver was hurrying up to us.

Three things happened at once: the pap whose camera got broken—so sad, moving on—charged toward us; the other photographer was yelling, “They’re alive”; and the stroke of helicopter blades echoed in the distance. Hopefully that meant rescue efforts were already on the way.

“You bastard,” the pap said as he reached us. Then Stella literally put herself bodily between us. The pap shoved her, and before I could punch him, she slammed her knee into his junk and he went down howling.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Stella continued. “The man tried to assault me, but he’s going to be too busy getting his dick out of his throat to do it again.”

That was my girl.

“You got more of that?” the truck driver asked when he saw what I was doing. He also had a fire extinguisher in hand. I slung the first-aid kit over my shoulder and then handed him some rope.

“Be careful,” I told Stella, and gave her a kiss. I pressed my keys into her hand and then eyed the guy on the ground who was still groaning. “You think about touching her again and you won’t have a dick to hold on to.”

Turned out the truck driver—Dale—was a decent enough climber himself. The route down was steep, but we made it swiftly.

The girls were somehow still alive.

The other photographer had also taken a tumble trying to get down there and had broken his leg. What a shame. We had most of them stabilized as the ambulances and cops rolled in.

One girl had to be airlifted. I was pretty sure she’d broken her pelvis. Another girl had a lot of lacerations; some were pretty deep. I gave one of the paramedics a number for a plastic surgeon we knew. I’d call him too. She might need some help with the scarring.

The fact no one died was a fucking miracle. We had to answer questions. The pap Stella had kneed was in handcuffs and in the back of a cop car when I got back up there.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Harrison,” a fresh-faced cop that looked like he still used pimple cream and was going to be late to his third period in high school said. “He got verbally abusive with Miss Charles. We put him in the car to cool off. Once my partner gets everyone’s statements, we’ll make the call on what to do with him.”

Fine by me. I slid an arm around Stella, and she hugged me tight. “That’s fine. We’ll be right here to make the statements when you’re ready.”

We never got to the waterfalls or to the picnic, and I found myself filing another police report. The whole time, there was a helicopter circling overhead. This story was going to go viral.

Dipping my head, I kissed Stella and soaked in the connection. She dug her fingers into my nape, and when I lifted my head, I studied her fierce expression.

“You okay?” In all the excitement, had I missed something? “You weren’t hurt with the sudden deceleration were you?”

“You’re a damn hero,” she said, and I blinked. “I’m more than fine. Just wish…” Then she glanced to where there was tape keeping people back. The full rescue effort had closed off this section of road, and we’d gained more than a few lookie-loos.

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