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“Statement? You want a statement?”
One of the photographers shoved a camera in my face, grazing my cheek, and the flash went off. I felt the warm ooze of blood trickle into my mouth with a metallic taste.
I didn’t think. I didn’t come up with a way to handle him. Everything in my body fired with instinct first. My fist reared back in a solid mass and I punched forward, slugging him and knocking him to the ground.
“What in the hell?” The photographer rolled on his side, gripping his nose. He looked horrified at the blood on his fingers.
I stood over him, clenching my fists.
If I thought it was bad before, the mayhem grew to a frenzy as soon as his back hit the pavement.
“You hit me, you bastard.” He looked up at me, startled. “I think you broke my nose.”
“You shoved a camera in my face.” I was ready to beat the shit out of him, but I was suddenly aware of what was happening around me. No one gave a shit that he had cut my cheek and I had blood splatters on my shirt to prove it. I wasn’t the victim here.
There were recorders, cameras, and a small crowd gathered on the street.
I took off in a full sprint, not looking back.
I knew I had royally fucked up this time.
Chapter Four
Aspen
As soon as the wheels hit the tarmac, I powered on my phone.
“Come on, come on.” I coaxed it to life.
My heart seized and my chest tightened. “No, no, no. Not now. Not possible.”
I scrolled through the headlines. I saw the alerts pop up on the screen. Oh my God.
“Everything okay?” the flight attendant asked.
Now was not the time for more champagne. I nodded, but I knew my face gave him a different answer. There was nothing okay about what happened. He moved on to help prepare the plane for passenger arrival.
“Welcome to beautiful Rio de Janeiro,” the captain announced over the speakers.
My phone rang and I hesitated to answer it. I knew what my boss was going to say before I heard her voice. There were more headlines—worse than the ones from last night. My trip had just risen to level def-con five.
“Hi, Karen.”
“Aspen, thank God. Are you there? Where is he?”
We were still taxiing toward our gate.
“I just landed. As soon as I get my bags, I’ll find him.”
“It’s worse. He’s out of control.”
I closed my eyes. “I know. I saw the latest headline.”
“Bring him back to center.”
“I will,” I promised, but I had no idea how I was going to do that.
Lachlan had just punched a member of the Brazilian paparazzi on camera. The photographer was threatening to sue him. Things had snowballed faster than I could have imagined.
