The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

Gunshots fire and the man falls to the ground with a thud.

Slowly I draw closer to the car, afraid of what I may find. I call out her name to no answer. The walk feels like swimming against a rip current, draining all your energy but going nowhere. Finally, I reach the small confines and I have to force myself to look inside.

Leaning into the vehicle, I can finally feel my lungs fill with air when I notice her chest moving up and down, her body seeming unharmed.

Delicately I push the hair away from her face and I have to force myself to keep from breaking down.

“Sir, would you like me to carry her?”

Hell no. No one is going to touch her, ever, if I have anything to say about it.

“No, I’ve got her.”

Her soul must recognize me instantly because Larsen’s body tilts closer as I lift her in my arms. Even without consciousness, she seeks me out.

As the large doors to the hangar open to let the other officers investigate, movement from the far corner catches my eye. A slight man walks out of what appears to be a storage unit. He walks with purpose toward the plane, keys dangling from his fingers, until he notices the commotion before him.

“What the?” Tessa asks as he spins around looking for an escape.

An officer tackles him to the ground and his t

hin wired frames slide across the floor until they land about an inch away from my feet.

Tessa picks them up in confusion until she takes in my angered expression. My entire face burns with the fury simmering beneath the surface.

“Michael?” she asks in confusion.

“The cops better get their questions answered because I’m going to kill him.”

The officer lifts the now handcuffed assistant up from the floor and his eyes meet mine. They’re crazed and wild, and as they tug him away, he begins to fight against the hold.

“You can’t prove anything,” he says maniacally. But as the officer reads him his rights, his already demented face distorts into someone I don’t recognize. He looks like a rabid animal lashing out. “She was supposed to have it all!” he shouts. “She deserves it all!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LARSEN

Against my cheek, the feel of soft cotton caresses my skin. I snuggle into the material wanting to feel it all over. It’s far better than the scratchy fake velour of the seat in the towncar.

The cloth.

The fear.

My eyes pop open as I remember Michael shoving me into the vehicle. I lost consciousness before we even made it out of the parking lot.

In my ear I can hear my heart start pounding, my limbs jerk against my body, protecting myself as I tug the covers sheltering me tightly in my grip. The room is unfamiliar, the light blue walls doing little to soothe me as I crawl back against the headboard in fear.

A scream erupts from my lungs, purging from my diaphragm before I have a chance to stop it. My throat aches at the shrill, but I can’t stop.

Pounding sounds from outside the door, heavy footsteps rushing toward the room.

I cower back into the corner of the bed, weighing my chances of hiding from the soon-to-be intruders. But I don’t have time when the door swings open, exposing two males and a lone female.

At first the trio seem unfamiliar, but as the closest male steps into the room, my heart distinguishes him immediately – Devyn.

His feet tangle with themselves as he trips into the room approaching the bed. But he effortlessly catches himself and hoists himself onto the furniture, his large body landing beside me. Together we bounce as the mattress counters back at his descent, and during the movement, my arms extend out to him, desperate for his closeness.

He wraps me in his own embrace, not a slip of paper could wedge between us. Devyn’s mouth settles against my neck, his nose inhaling my scent with every breath. I do the same with his earthy fragrance wishing that I could bottle it up and take it with me.

“You’re alright, Angel. God, I have died a thousand deaths today.”